By the time Ryoko and Kyoko were engulfed in an explosion, he had found one useful thing to do. He helped Nuku Nuku crawl out of the way. He was cradling the wounded bakeneko in his arms while carefully removing needles when the wind and dirt stirred up by the explosion washed over them. Tenchi shielded the sex kitten as best he could from the dust storm and flying dirt clods.
The boom of that explosion was made even louder by a reduction in the noise from the crowd outside the compound. Many still cheered and shouted, but many others were stunned by the ruthlessness of Ryoko’s recent assault. The Natsume compound was often the setting for violence, and the Natsume slaves tended to bring a certain amount of chaos with them wherever they went, but it was a playful sort of mayhem. Whether it was an effort to corral a rowdy creature from beyond or squabbling among the slaves for status and attention, it rarely exceeded certain bounds, and people knew where to send the bills for property damage.
There had been no element of playfulness in the battle that had just occurred. It had been swift, savage, and efficient. It was violence with intent to kill, rather than the usual wrestling for dominance that often led to other forms of wrestling and dominance. A number of spectators who were not too far-gone in liquor or the excitement of the event were now contemplating what might happen if said event were to spill out of the compound.
The questions being considered by that section of the audience were far more immediate for Tenchi and Nuku Nuku inside the compound. They looked up through the billowing dusk and smoke to see a sword of red light slowly moving towards them.
Tenchi whispered, “Can you stand?”
Though she still had a few needles protruding from her fur and even more spots of blood where needles had been, Nuku Nuku nodded and slowly rose. Her wide green eyes never left the sword. The normally chipper and talkative cat-girl did so in complete silence, which was an indication of how serious the situation was. From the dispersing cloud, a voice called. Under other circumstances, it might have been described as “gentle” or even “alluring”, but now “eerie” and ‘haunting” seemed more appropriate. “Tenchi,” it called, “Teeenchiiiii.”
The young man being called put forward his next question, “Can you run?”
Normally Nuku Nuku could outrun a locomotive. Injured and moving gingerly, she showed herself to still be capable of leaving the average track runner in her dust. Tenchi, trained by his grandfather and propelled by his instincts of self-preservation, was able to keep up as they ran hand in hand towards the house. At least he kept pace until the very end, when he stumbled on some wreckage that once had been a shrub shaped to achieve harmony with its environment in accordance with the ways of Zen. That it had also been shaped much like Natsume Akiko’s rear when she bent over was one of those bits of serendipity that occur when proper harmony is achieved. After his stumble, the wounded bakeneko dragged her “hero” the last few strides into the house.
The demon emerged from the cloud in time to witness this, and called after them, “Don’t rough him up too much Kitty, I want to do it myself.”
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(Posted Wed, 19 Jan 2005 17:16)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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