A chuckle came over his comm system. "I think it was yours."
"Oh, really..."
"Yeah, 'really'. You said that you wanted to get at them, so, here we are."
"Me and my big mouth..."
"You said it, not me."
Sighing to himself, the pigtailed boy rubbed at his eyes and wondered how things could have come to be what he was experiencing. He'd trained as a martial artist, not as a pilot of even a hot air balloon. Fighting was supposed to be one on one affairs at best, with the two combatants squaring off in a contest of skill and power. It was what he'd known all of his life, and was what he'd expected to deal with.
Instead, he was sitting in the cockpit of a mecha that was sitting on a forested hillside, waiting for the fight to start. Apparently his martial arts skills made him a superior pilot, and not only for the obvious reasons. Sure, he could react faster, and could stand greater stresses, but he was also the bearer of a keen combat mind, and had a talent for the job. Even if this wasn't quite what he'd expected when he'd been training in the Art, this was what he had to deal with now, and he knew that when one needed a mech to fight, the Art tended not to be quite as useful as when facing human opponents directly.
Still, he didn't have to enjoy being forced to sit around and wait for the conflict with the enemy start, while:
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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