I'd like to take a brief moment before the story to thank
everyone who responded to my request for lawyer-ish sounding
martial arts attack names to be used in this chapter. If
you spot something you suggested, know that you have my
gratitude, and that you WILL be credited for them in the
Author's Notes that will follow the end of the finished
chapter.
Have fun, and don't be afraid to C&C.
Ed.
Ranma 1/2 characters and situations are copyright 1987, 1999 by
Takahashi Rumiko. Publishing rights (Japan) by Shogakukan Inc.
Publishing rights (North America) by Viz Inc. This work is not
intended to infringe those rights.
***************************************************************
Pagliacci - A story of the world of Ranma 1/2
Chapter 6
***************************************************************
Gosunkugi Hikaru, not being a professional martial artist,
didn't know how to hop from rooftop to rooftop the way many of the
so-called "Nerima Wrecking Crew" could. But as he dashed through the
streets of Nerima, he felt an odd sensation deep in his chest as he
saw the cloth advertising banners that hung from many a store front,
as well as the power cables, phone lines and other rope-like objects
dangling overhead. This feeling only grew stronger as he noticed,
just ahead of him, a rather large nylon banner celebrating the grand
opening of a new pachinko parlor. The banner, covering the entire
storefront and wide enough to cross from one side of the street to
the other, was gradually being winched into position by a pair of
bored employees.
Gos headed towards that side of the street, and with a bound,
grabbed the rope from them, his foot kicking open the locking
ratchet on the winch. The sign fell, yanking the rope up through
the pulley, taking Hikaru with it.
Just before the tail end of the rope slipped through the pulley,
Gos twisted sharply and flipped end over end, throwing himself
through the air. A free hand shot out and grasped a nearby flag,
hanging from a pole. As the flag tore free from its mount, Hikaru
used the change in his momentum to propel himself towards a phone
line further down the street. He swung from it over to a window
awning that jutted from the side of a nearby building. Bouncing
off the awning as though it were a trampoline, he continued on
down the street.
These actions were repeated, with both subtle and not-so-subtle
variations as he rapidly made his way above the traffic, headed
towards the bath-house his mother had told him of.
Lord John Clayton, 7th Earl of Greystoke Manor, would have
given him a 7.5 for his style and technique. (Points were deducted
for Gos's obvious inexperience.)
* * *
Norton South was just as inexperienced as Gos in the more
esoteric methods of Martial Arts... well, Travel, for lack of a
better word. But as has been previously noted, the little lecher
could take a beating better than anyone else in Nerima, with the
possible exceptions of Ryouga Hibiki and Ataru Moroboshi. So he'd
invented his own, unique, manner of high-speed cross-city
transportation.
A scream rang out from the middle of the street.
"PERVERT!"
*WHAM*
And with that, Norton went flying through the air in mallet
assisted flight. Intentionally.
He looked down as he passed the apex of his arc. "I'm making
good time," he muttered as he wiped a bit of drool from the corner
of his mouth. "Looks like I'll land less than three blocks from
the bath house." He laughed maniacally. "Soon, I'll have the harem
I rightly deserve!"
* * *
Somewhere in Tomobiki, a very cute girl sneezed, then she
electro-shocked her Darling for no apparent reason.
* * *
The offended girl in the street passed the mallet back to her
companion. "Thanks for the loan. GOD, that guy was so... CREEPY."
Akane just GLARED at Ranma. In, admittedly, reluctant
admiration. "Why didn't I ever think of using it like that?"
"Well, you know..."
"I know. I know. You're the best there is." And she half
fumed... Ranma had surpassed HER signature move... and half glowed.
Ranma had USED her signature move. Maybe that meant he cared.
"I know something for SURE now."
"What's that, Ranma?"
The redhead scowled. "That there's someone out there I hate as
much as Happosai... whoever he was."
Akane smiled. "Oh, I doubt we'll ever see him again."
Ranma froze. "You didn't just say that. You didn't."
"What do you-- Oh, NO!"
Ranma sighed, then shrugged. "Too late now. Let's go by the
bathhouse on the way home. I want some hot water."
* * *
Norton, having just invented the technique, hadn't quite
perfected it yet. (It would take many angry women and MANY mallet
impacts before he got it down right.) He struck a clothesline
suspended between two apartment buildings, which absorbed much of
his momentum, then recoiled, throwing him further on.
The resulted in his one-point, face-first impact about two
meters from the main door to the bath-house that his master had
JUST finished repairing.
Painfully crawling from the largish dent he'd left in the
pavement, the would-be womanizer pulled himself erect. Stretching
his stiff limbs, he smiled wildly.
"My harem awaits me!"
And with that shout, he dashed inside.
* * *
Another mass sneezing fit struck certain residents of Tomobiki,
but it passed rapidly.
* *
Screams rang out from the bath-house yet again. But now there
was a subtle difference. The usual subtle undertone of frustration
that normally accompanied Happosai-induced shouts of feminine rage
was missing, replaced by grim satisfaction.
The reason was pretty obvious, as Norton came bouncing out of
the bath house sporting a great many more bruises than Happosai ever
had. A rather burly-looking woman (who could have given the average
sumotori a hard time in the ring) came stomping out after him. She
was followed by females of every size and age, hastily dressed in
whatever came to hand, and armed with a variety of blunt instruments.
Bystanders (those who'd lived near the Furinkan high school, at
least) who saw the crowd of infuriated femininity and the weapons
they carried were irresistibly reminded of the morning battles that
had been a staple of the school until Ranma had arrived.
Unfortunately, while bruised and battered in body, Norton's
perverted spirit was indomitable. He bounded to his feet and dived
_towards_ the crowd of angry women, fondling and groping them like
a man possessed.
The owner of the bathhouse simply sighed, and reached for her
cellphone, hitting the new number she'd input into her speed-dial.
"Hello? McGyver-san? Would you please come by again?"
Meanwhile, a crowd was rapidly gathering to witness the
Ceremonial Thrashing of the Pervert, a fine old tradition in
Nerima. (One that was celebrated at every possible opportunity.)
"Look! Up in the sky!"
With one final bound, eiyu-Gosunkugi had arrived.
Women throughout the street looked, and as one, sighed deeply.
While on the very edges of the crowd, cameras could be heard faintly
clicking away.
Gos _still_ wasn't sure what had come over him, but he didn't
seem able to stop it, or even control it. And he was discovering
that as time passed, he was losing the desire to do so. He struck a
heroic pose (what else?), stabbing a finger in Norton's direction.
"HOLD, villain! How DARE you defile and abuse innocent women?
Women who should be respected and wooed, not molested! In the name
of Romance everywhere, I SHALL PUNISH YOU!"
* * *
Across town at the Kuno mansion, a young man was suddenly
convulsed by a severe fit of sneezes.
Several young girls in Juuban were similarly afflicted.
* * *
Norton spoiled the moment by laughing. "Who the heck are you?
Loony-Man? Go away and leave me and my harem alone before I kick
your butt."
"I say thee NAY!" shouted Gos. "I CANNOT abandon these lovely
ladies to your perverted designs! Have at thee!"
Norton backpedaled quickly as the tall blond stranger attacked
him with what the surrounding bystanders quickly identified as a
variation of savate, or French kickboxing.
(It's Nerima. If you live there, you rapidly become something
of a connoisseur of martial arts styles whether you like it or not.
It's something of a survival skill.)
Norton hadn't studied the School of Martial Arts Construction
as diligently as he should have, being far too busy chasing women,
groping women, fondling women, molesting wom... well, you get the
idea. But he WAS pretty good at his previous school, the Yankee
Carpetbagger School of Martial Arts. He'd almost achieved a dan
ranking before they threw him out. (Which was WHY they'd thrown him
out. Even that revolting group of ambulance-chasing lawyers had
become disgusted with Norton. Which shows just how loathsome the
little git was.)
This being so, he reverted to form.
"HA! TORT TOSS!"
"Yeow!" Gos backflipped as a dozen sheets of yellow legal paper
sailed past him, the closest ones giving him nasty paper cuts.
"COUNTERSUIT KICK! YEE-HA!"
The shorter youth sailed past Gos, his boot barely missing
Hikaru's nose. Gos was getting pretty irritated, and the usual
fear he'd felt in previous situations like this was nowhere to
be found, obliterated by a rising tide of anger and righteous
fury at the boy's perverted actions.
"You want special techniques?" shouted Gos, "I'll GIVE you
special techniques!" He dived under Norton's next attack, then
jumped up, grabbing at the boy's beltline as he leapt. "SPECIAL
ATTACK - WEDGIE FROM HELL!"
Norton made a sound no healthy human male should _ever_ make as
the elastic waistband of his undershorts was yanked up and over his
head. The male spectators in the surrounding crowd all winced in
sympathetic pain.
"For that you will DIE!" squeaked Norton, in a voice so highly
pitched, Alvin and the Chipmunks would have envied it. "I will kill
you until you DIE from it!"
* * *
"Hey, Ranma! Look!" Akane pointed further down the street, in
the direction of the bathhouse. "It's incredible!"
"What's incredible?" wondered Ranma.
"It looks like a full-out, no-holds barred martial arts battle
to the death!"
"So?"
"And you're not involved!" Akane immediately dissolved into a
fit of giggles.
"HEY! It's not like I'm always the targ.. okay, so maybe I AM
always the target, that doesn't mean it's fun.. okay, so maybe it's
a LITTLE funny," grumped Ranma.
Akane kept giggling. "Don't you know what this means, baka?"
Her tone was light and not at all insulting or angry, so he
responded.
"Okay, what?"
"Well, you've always said you wanted to be on the outside of
one of your fights looking in, haven't you? This could be the
next best thing!"
Ranma blinked several times as the idea sank in. "Hey! That's
right!" She grabbed Akane's hand. "Let's go see!"
The two of them went running down the street towards the
rapidly thickening crowd.
And of course, when Ranma and Akane run ANYWHERE inside Nerima,
THEY gather a certain select crowd of their own.
* * *
"Fist of the Frivolous Complaint!"
SWISH-THUD
"Boot to the Head!"
SH-ZOOMP
"Flying Dragon Litigation! HA!"
FWOOSH
"Serious.. ahh.. Ass Kicking!"
THUMP
Gosunkugi was having a little trouble thinking up dramatic
attack names.. shouting out his attacks in Japanese fashion wasn't
a habit his Western style cursed form was accustomed to. On top of
that, he'd never practiced any martial arts before, and hadn't
learned how to properly announce a special technique. This didn't
mean that his fighting skills were any less effective, merely that
the onlookers were deducting a few points for his lack of verbal
style and flair.
On the other hand, he was experiencing something that had NEVER
happened to him before.
People were cheering. For HIM.
Oh, they were shouting a great many other things as well,
including those women who were screaming some rather graphic
suggestions about what they'd like to do to the little pervert
once Gos had defeated him. But the cheers rang loud and clear in
Hikaru's ears, a sweet, seductive music that had never before born
HIS name.
Gos discovered that he LIKED it.
"Subpoena Serve!"
What he _didn't_ like was the fact that the vexing little
lecher was using DANGEROUS attacks. Not only were those envelopes
following him around, they were razor sharp, damnit! If he wasn't
careful as he dodged, the flying pieces of paper might seriously
injure an innocent onlooker. And _that_ made something lurking deep
inside eiyu-Gosunkugi furious.
He bounded across the street, leaping a car and put his back to
the brick facade of a small store. The glowing strips of fan-fold
paper arrowed towards him, glittering malevolently. Just before they
could strike, he dropped flat to the sidewalk. The papers embedded
themselves in the brick and became stuck, their chi-charge (at least
that's what Gos assumed it was) fading quickly.
I need an edge, thought Gos. I need ... something. Anything. He
looked around wildly, searching for anything that might give him the
advantage he required.
* * *
There are certain unwritten laws that bind every profession
under the sun. The business of private investigation is no
exception.
For PI's, they go something like this: Go to a seedy bar.
Drink self into a stupor, accompanied by theme music of a soprano
sax passing a kidney stone. Stagger drunkenly into the parking lot
and fall victim to menacing thugs in bad suits with a warning to
'drop da case or else, Mack, oooupph'.
It's not a very EFFECTIVE way to investigate a case, but it IS
traditional. And Maiku Kanazuchi, Private Eye, was nothing if not a
strict traditionalist.
Trouble was, Nerima had traditions of its own, and the insanity
of Nerima trumps everything else, hands down.
Which is why, when he went out to catch a quick snack (that gal
who ran "Ucchan's" made some pretty good okonomiyaki - even if her
ninja 'waitress' made him feel uneasy), he happened to walk straight
into the ongoing fight at the bath house.
Maiku found this vaguely annoying. PI's were supposed to have a
DIFFICULT time solving a case. They were supposed to be threatened,
abused, in constant danger! (and _loving_ it!)
He was NOT supposed to just trip over his objective.
This was against the RULES, damn it!
Still, dumb luck was ALSO a tradition of a private eye, and
whenever it fell into their laps, they were required to take swift
and ruthless advantage of it. So Maiku quickly whipped out the small
Minox spy camera he habitually carried and started snapping photos
of his target.
* * *
Ranma and Akane had reached the battle, and staked out what
Akane hoped would be reasonably attack-proof vantage points to
watch the fight from.
"Hey, Akane, do y'want some.. RYOUGA!"
Akane blinked, confused. Ranma was asking her if she wanted
any Ryouga? Then she heard "Can anyone tell me the way to the
Tendo.. RANMA! Prepare to-"
"Wanna watch the fight with us, P-chan? It's shaping up pretty
good."
"Come and sit with us, Ryouga," added Akane. "Ranma and I
decided that we wanted to catch a good fight without BEING in it."
The Eternally Lost Boy blinked in confusion, then processed the
following facts.
1) Ranma was being reasonably polite to him.
2) Akane appeared to be happy, and Ranma was being polite to
her as well.
3) There _did_ seem to be a good fight going on right over
there and it didn't involve anyone he knew personally. (Nor
were any attacks being directed towards himself, Ranma, or
Akane.)
This led him to:
4) At this particular time and place, there didn't seem to be
any pressing need to kick Ranma's ass for hurting Akane. And
there WAS an entertaining fight taking place.
Ryouga shrugged. "Why not?" He dropped his pack next to Ranma
and sat on it, looking at the two young men who were trying to beat
the snot out of each other. "Who's who? Any scorecards?"
"Well," noted Ranma, "They're both new in town, I think. The
skinny little guy with all the weird attacks seems ta be the new
pervert in town. He tried ta grope me and Akane while we were on
the way here. I ain't sure who the blond guy is, though, 'cept he
sounds like maybe he trained with the same sensei who taught Kuno
how ta talk like some poetry-spoutin' samurai-idiot wannabe."
Akane giggled. "I think he sounds like Sailor Moon giving a
speech. It's so _romantic_."
Ryouga peered closely at the two fighters. "With all that blond
hair, he sort of LOOKS like Sailor Moon. If Sailor Moon were a guy,
that is."
"Yep, real pretty boy stuff," nodded Ranma.
"You'd know all about that, eh, Saotome?" snickered Ryouga.
Ranma rolled her eyes. "And here I was gonna offer you some'a
my pocky. Ah, what the heck." She handed the lost boy some soda and
a bag of popcorn.
Surprised, Ryouga accepted. "Where'd you get it?"
"Been studyin' Mousse. Can't carry as much as Duck-boy does,
but I can manage a few small things now. I'm tryin' ta work my
way up to a full change of clothes and some dry towels."
"That makes sense," Ryouga supposed. He waved towards the
blond who'd just launched a sweep kick towards the head of the
pervert. "French Federation Judo, you think?"
"Mmmm, I dunno," returned Ranma, her brow furrowed in thought.
"I can see a little judo in there, maybe. But it looks more like
a real old version of French kickboxing. Old, like he trained with
a sensei as old as Happosai, only French, y'know?"
"And didn't learn the modern katas?" Ryouga tilted his head
to one side, thinking about it as he watched the battle move back
and forth across the open area of the street that the crowd had
cleared. "Yeah, I see what you mean. His attacks aren't as refined.
A little crude. But not because he's a beginner. And it's not all
kickboxing, either. It looks like there's something else mixed in
there."
"What do you mean?" asked Akane curiously.
"Look at his footwork, Akane-chan," said Ryouga, forgetting to
feel nervous as he analyzed the fight. "The way he advances, then
leans back." The Lost Boy looked over at Ranma. "More like me than
you. Weapons' user, you think?"
"Yep," agreed Ranma. "Like Kuno. Or maybe Mousse. Sword, from
the way he moves. But I ain't sure what sort. He's not movin' like
Kuno would with his bokken, or Mousse when he's got that big-ass
Chinese blade. Somethin' else, I think."
Ryouga took a closer look at the blond. "I think I know him,
maybe."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I met him in Kagoshima. He helped me catch a train to
Tokyo and led me to the Tendo dojo the last time I got lost."
"When AIN'T you lost?" quipped Ranma. This earned him a
(relatively gentle) blow over the head from Akane.
Ryouga gave Ranma a sour look, then continued on. "Anyway, he
said his name is Wan. Tenorioh Wan. He's from Spain."
"That'd explain the European style," nodded Ranma. "Ain't bad,
but unless he's got some special attacks he ain't used yet, looks
like the pervert's gonna win eventually." The young martial artist
frowned briefly as an idea suddenly occured to her. "Spain. He ain't
no prince or nuthin', is he?"
"Don't think so," replied Ryouga.
"Good. Akane's safe then. And he ain't gonna get any food
poisoning, neither."
This earned Ranma yet another gentle bop on the head from her
fiancee. "Be _nice_, Ranma."
* * *
Gos dropped, rolling swiftly across the pavement. Leaping to
his feet, he noticed a building with a small awning shading its
doorway. A quick snap-kick dropped the awning and its support poles
into his hands.
Twirling the awning like a bullfighter's cape, he spun it
through the air and tossed it at Norton, blinding the pervert for
a moment, giving him the break he needed.
Taking the longer pole of the two, he slid his hands together
at the middle of the shaft. He began to twirl it end over end like
a cheerleader's baton. Putting all the effort he had into it, the
stick quickly became a whining blur.
* * *
Akane and Ranma looked at the spinning staff, interested.
"What kind'a style is THAT?" wondered Ranma.
"It looks a little like Momma's naginata forms," said Akane.
"I think. It's been years since Momma..." Her voice sank into
silence at the memories.
"Ain't no bo form I've ever seen before. Looks a bit like
some of them, but it ain't any o' the ones I know, not really."
"That's because it isn't a staff style, Ranma," interjected
Ryouga. "That's le moulinet."
"What?" asked Akane.
"Le moulinet. French single-stick style. I learned a little
bit of it the last time I was in Paris," said the Lost Boy. "It's a
little difficult to adapt to an umbrella, but I thought I'd give it
a try. I figured that it would give Ranma a surprise, at least for
a few minutes."
"Oh, I see. He's kinda trying to use it like a bo, but
different. I get it now. Sorta like that Tuxedo guy who follows
Sailor Moon around."
Ranma began to say something else, then (to Akane's surprise),
a deeply thoughtful look crossed her face. "Y'say th' school's from
France, P-chan?"
Ryouga growled slightly, but didn't want to spoil the good
mood, or the chance to watch a fight. "Yeah. It's used to help
teach French sword forms, too. And don't call me P-chan."
"That's IT!" Ranma snapped her fingers. "That's what I'm
seeing!" She looked down at Ryouga's pack. "Nah, yours would be
too heavy for 'im, and the usual crap would break first time he
used it..." Ranma looked up and down the length of the street.
"Now where.. THERE!" She bounced to her feet. "Don't go nowhere,
I'll be right back."
"What's he doing?" wondered Akane. "We're supposed to be
watching the fight!"
"I think I know," smirked Ryouga. "He'll be right back, there's
the store right over there. And here he comes!"
* * *
While two young men were battling for supremacy (well, one
young man and one disgusting young pervert), and the crowd gathered
around them watched the battle, other people were looking on with
more than a little interest.
The boy has potential, thought one of them, hidden in the
deepest shadows. I'll have to see if he can't be turned. If so,
he'll be PERFECT. A natural. Much better than Ranma. My greatest
work. And it shouldn't take any effort at all.
* * *
"OBJECTION BOMB!"
Norton screeched in rage. The spinning staff was deflecting all
of his best ranged attacks with ease. And the few times he closed to
try some hand to hand blows, The huge blond fool would simply use
the built up momentum in the spin of the staff to strike a blow that
sent NORTON spinning.
But it seemed to be a mostly defensive form. If he stayed away
from the would-be hero, he wouldn't get hurt.
He wouldn't win the fight, either.
DAMN HIM, swore the young lecher. All I want is what belongs to
me, what's rightfully mine! Why is he getting in my way?!
* * *
"RAGING FILIBUSTER STORM!"
Gos blocked yet another attack, but was rapidly growing
frustrated. The stick style he seemed to instinctively know was
well suited to blocking oncoming attacks, and defending against hand
to hand combat, but it was primarily a defensive form, designed to
react to attacks, not initiate them.
What would he do to stop this stain upon the reputation of the
noble male gender? What COULD he do to stop it? He had no idea, no
plans, nothing!
"Yo, Blondie! CATCH!"
Gos looked from the corner of one eye to where the shout rang
out (still keeping the other eye firmly on the furiously battling
pervert) and saw something flying in his direction from someone in
the crowd. He recognized onna-Ranma, and despite what he'd insisted
on in the past, knew that Ranma was an honorable fighter, in his
(or her) own fashion. So he stetched out one hand and caught the
blurred object thrown his way.
* * *
Japan and Britain share many things. Both are (or were) island
empires. Both have royal families. And both have rain. Lots and LOTS
of rain. So the Art of making umbrellas flourishes in both nations.
But there's one small difference. Much as the art of forging a
sword has has taken differing paths in the two nations, so has the
art of making umbrellas. Japan has a rainy season, and they know when
to expect the rain, most of the time. Umbrellas there don't need to
be terribly sturdy, as they aren't constantly needed.
With England, however, rain doesn't come during a season, it
comes whenever it damned well pleases, and until modern scientific
weather forecasting began, it almost always came as a surprise. So
the English - or at least those who could afford it - tended to
carry an umbrella with them at all times. This meant that British
umbrellas often served more than one purpose (after all, if you had
to carry it with you at all times, why NOT make it more useful?) and
that they were built like the proverbial tank.
Oftentimes, that secondary purpose was, to no one's great
surprise, that of a walking stick or cane.
More often, it was the more lethal purpose of self defense.
The VERY best combined the two.
* * *
When the umbrella landed in Hikaru's hand, it felt... right.
Natural. As if it had always been there.
Teak and mahogany, oiled silk and whalebone, it sported a
six-inch long steel spike on the tip. While not razor sharp, it
could still punch a bloody hole in a person if handled incorrectly.
Or if handled _correctly_, for that matter.
Heavy, sturdy and long, it was perfectly balanced. It felt like
a part of his arm. And Hikaru KNEW how to use it. Somehow, eiyu-Gos
just knew.
And with that knowledge, he confidently dropped the awning pole
and went on the attack.
* * *
"That's your pervert, isn't it?" asked Lilac. "Sorry, I meant
to say your student."
"No, you didn't," sighed Seamus. "I know you better than that,
Lil. And yes, that's Norton. God knows I wish it wasn't." McGyver
had just pulled the truck into a parking space that had a fair view
of the battle raging in front of the building he and the Amazons had
just repaired mere hours ago. The young Amazons riding in the bed of
the truck were snarling like a pack of enraged wolves.
Lilac simply raised an arm, and the angry muttering from the
back of the truck cut off instantly.
"We will NOT interfere, children. I hope I am QUITE understood
on that point?" She was answered only by resentful silence. She
turned to face the young Amazons. "This is a personal fight between
two warriors. It would be dishonorable in the extreme to interfere
in their battle. Am I _understood_?" She stared hard at Dowel.
The giant Amazon nodded reluctantly. <"I understand and will
obey, Honored Elder.">
"See that you do. And keep the others in line. I want to be
able to SEE this fight through to its end." Lilac observed the
frustrated expressions on the girls' faces. "For what it's worth,
children, intruding in someone else's fight is both rude and
dishonorable. However, challenging the loser - or the WINNER - after
the fight has concluded; that is another matter entirely. Do you
understand?"
The girls brightened at that thought, and taking the Elder's
hint, tried to find comfortable positions in the back of the truck
from where they could see the fight clearly.
* * *
Now it was NORTON'S turn to feel uncertainty. That damned
umbrella was not only blocking all his best moves, the spike on
the end of it had come perilously close to causing him serious
injury. His clothing already sported long rips and tears where
Blondie had parried a kick or a punch, then with a twist of his
wrist, used the extended umbrella to launch a counter-attack.
Norton felt like he'd just fallen into some badly-made parody
of an Errol Flynn movie.
The umbrella lashed out, flickering faster than sight, and
Norton felt a sudden painful sting on his cheek. Another flicker,
and the pain doubled.
* * *
For once, RYOUGA had a Saotome-style smirk on his face.
"Looks like the big blond guy's a fan of the Battosai, eh,
Ranma?"
Ranma was snickering herself. "Yep. Don't look deep enough
ta scar for good, but Blondie's got a nice touch with the umbrella,
there. He's- whoo! Nice!"
A lightning stroke with the umbrella had severed Norton's
belt.
Unfortunately, to the disgust of all present, this did little
to slow the pervert down as he simply let his pants fall to the
ground, stepping out of them as they fell.
And Norton, to the horror of many of the women present, wore
a thong.
The collective "EWWWWWWW!" was heard as far away as Yokohama.
* * *
"That ain't right. That just ain't RIGHT."
"I hate to agree with you, but... urgh... you're right. That
is so wrong on so many levels."
Akane didn't comment. She was too busy trying not to pluck her
eyes out.
"I mean... where did he FIND a paisley thong? Who MAKES them?
And why am I not sick? Oh, right. Seen worse."
"How could you have POSSIBLY seen worse?"
"Ever seen Happosai in the buff?"
"Ewww."
"Ever seen COLOGNE in the buff?"
"EWWWWWWWW!"
* * *
Lilac snapped her fingers. "THAT'S what I forgot to bring with
me from the village. I'll have to see about buying some here in
Japan."
"What's that?" asked Seamus.
"Gelding shears."
"Ouch."
* * *
"Dreamers may die, but the Dream is eternal..."
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