“Urk. Uh, Misty, that wasn’t supposed to happen,” Ranma gasped and flexed his clawed fingers. His ears flattened in alarm, “was it?” He turned his hands over and felt up his arms. Light golden fur, with white highlights and black spots, ran up their length.
“Ash, you dummy!” Misty swore. “You’re channeling your spirit animal. You shouldn’t do that until you’re more familiar with it.”
“This is what happens when you channel?” Ranma demanded as he reached up to feel his face. That old familiar fear began to return as he felt a slightly extended muzzle and traced the jaw line up to a triangular fuzzy ear.
“Well, no, not usually like that, Ash,” Misty remarked in an odd tone of voice. “I think you’re over channeling or something. You– you’d better stop before you drain yourself — or the Professor sees you, or something.”
“What are you talking about?” Ranma demanded as he twisted around to peer at his rear. There was, as half expected, a bulge under the seat of his pants that might be a tail trying to pop out. So, the pressure back there really wasn’t just because his clothes were suddenly too tight. His legs, he noted in passing, were also longer and leaner. All that explained why he was looking down at Misty when he turned around.
It didn’t explain why she was looking somewhat lower than his face, blushing cutely, pointing, and stammering as if holding back giggles aplenty, “I-I mean, w-well, th-that!”
Dreading what he’d find, Ranma looked down and sighed as, indeed, he once again saw something he’d hoped he’d never see from that perspective again — a bust-line. A fairly nice –impressive even– bust-line, but still one he’d rather see on someone else. “The universe hates me, doesn’t it?” he asked the heavens.
“Honestly, someone should stop that Professor Oak from performing perverted and possibly illegal experiments,” Misty growled. “If only he wasn’t so well respected for constantly saving the city despite blowing up half of it that one time.”
“Uh, yeah,” Ranma agreed. “Let’s just find some hot water.”
“Why do you want hot water?”
“To… oh, never mind. Listen, how do I turn this off?”
“You’ve just got to repossess your spirit animal,” Misty informed him knowingly. “I think…”
“Great. The Professor should have trained us more before letting us go out alone,” Ranma complained, then thought about it. “What the heck am I saying?”
Misty grabbed his arm and tugged him along behind her. “Well then, if you’re not going to do anything about it, let’s get you off the street. People are starting to stare.”
“What, they’ve never seen a red haired cat girl before?” Ranma quipped, then pulled out a lock to check, “well, strawberry blonde anyway?”
“Ash!” Misty insisted sharply, then did that double-vision division thing and twin Misties were pulling him along.
“Okay, okay,” Ranma grumbled and picked up the pace. One step brought him even with the Double-Mint Misty Twins, two steps jerked his arms backwards out of the girls’ grasp, three—four—five steps came in quick succession, and it became impossible to count after that. He stopped somewhere in the high nineties and a thick hedge backed by a nice brick wall.
“Oh, riiight, speed magic,” he recalled to the planets orbiting his head. “Gottaaa retwaaain fooor thaaa…” His consciousness faded out, and his body faded back to normal.
“Well, that’s one way to get him to stop channeling,” one Misty panted to her twin as they ran up ten minutes latter.
Ranma hoped he’d wake up in hospital, or back in his –Ash’s– house, and not in hell. Well, under Nanako and the Professor’s care; same thing. Meanwhile he had the strangest dream involving grinning, invisible cheetahs, hooka-smoking caterprofessors, and an invitation to eat one side of a magic mushroom or the other.
“So which is it going to be, Ranma,” the caterprofessor asked, “the blue side, which will let you remember all about the animatrix when you wake up, or the red side which will turn you into a busty blonde bim…? I mean make you forget and… oh, fishsticks.”
“Would you stop day dreaming about perverted creepy crawlies and pay attention!” the Cheshire Hypre told him crossly. “I’m trying to teach your subconscious how to use my magic, and we’re late, late for a very– stop that!”
Half a dozen Misties danced by naked, singing merrily along.
“Red, red, red!”
“We’re painting the roses red!”
“The Queen, you see, planted white roses.”
“So we’re painting the roses red!”
“We’re painting the roses red!”
“But I wanted white roses!” insisted Queen Nanako. “So why are you painting my roses red?”
“So you’ll punish them, of course!” insisted the Brock rabbit.
“You’re quite mad, you know,” Hypre told Ranma.
“Don’t worry about it,” a dodo in a waistcoat suggested as it wandered up. “We’re all a little mad sometimes. Just relax. Here, have a cookie.”
“No, drink me!” cried a Muppet wine jug.
And the roses began to sing, “isn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king?”
“This is no time to talk about cookies and kings,” insisted the caterprofessor. “The fate of the animatrix may rest in your hands. At least have a red mushroom and think it over.”
“Which side are you even on, you perverted figment of his demented imagination?” Hypre demanded.
“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m a mixed up metaphor!”
“The pain medication may cause a slight amount of hallucination,” Queen Nanako advised him. “But you’ll be right as rain in a couple of days. However, we may have to cut off your head.”
“Wake up and smell the roses, Ash!” the Misties invited. “Look, Mount Fuji! A hawk! And an egg plant!”
”Oh, man, what a strange dream. Ah. What was it about again?”
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(Posted Tue, 05 Jun 2007 21:08)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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