Both legs had been lost, to differing lengths. One arm. Part of his chest.
When he'd gone through the process, he'd known it would hurt a lot as each nerve connected through the automail. No pain, no gain.
Now standing on his automail legs, Ranma clenched his automail arm and heard the clicking as the parts slid together. A little smile briefly creased his face as he turned a spare chair he'd kept for Hotaru into a shortsword.
Then he simply took his place in his old wheelchair and waited.
"I regret this, but it is necessary, Ranma Saotome," said a voice laden with regret.
Ranma turned the wheelchair to face the woman with the staff.
(Posted Thu, 24 Mar 2005 09:20)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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