‘Hmm, a pretty flimsy handbook for such a supposedly powerful technique,’ the balding man mused.
He flicked past where he’d gotten to when preparing the area. When he saw the next part his heart sank.
“This technique is only something a complete idiot would use. Repeated attempts to use it will result in the psychological scarring of the individual.”
“Dear God, what have I done?” he asked himself.
He leapt into action, tearing the cover off the pit and jumping down to reach for his only child. Having scooped up the dazed boy, Genma bounded back up to the daylight.
“Ranma!” he called out to the bundle in his arms.
“Poppa?” the boy cried out weakly.
“Ranma, you’re alive! I’m so sorry,” Genma wept for his injured boy.
The bespectacled martial artist checked the blue-eyed boy for injuries. Finding nothing more than scratches, Genma breathed a sigh of relief.
Setting his son down, Genma began tending to the wounds. “I’m sorry, son. If I’d known about this, I wouldn’t have made you go through it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night at camp, Genma decided to allow his son to rest after their meal. He had to re-plan this stage of their trip, and possibly the next.
“If Nodoka were alive, she would have killed me if I’d gone through with that damned training,” Genma raged at himself.
“And what would Ranma do if I died?” he demanded rhetorically. Calming down instead of picking up his bottle of sake, he had a moment of clarity. “I've got it!”
“Wha?”
“Oh, sorry son. We’re going to be visiting an old friend of mine tomorrow. So rest up, we’ve got some serious travelling to do.”
“Ok Poppa,” Ranma yawned.
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(Posted Sun, 23 Oct 2005 17:53)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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