Years pass, they always do. And while some would wish a moment would literally last forever, that is against the basics of the universe.
It is also damned boring.
Toltiir didn’t do boring.
And because he was inside Ranma, neither did the pigtailed boy.
But once again, time passed. People were met, pranks were launched, Senshi of Time were arrested for assaulting an account manager for odd credit card purchases on any card she had, bank accounts she owned, and even loan applications she never made.
The last one was something Toltiir thought she would enjoy. That psychic hotline made her more money than they ever spent, after all. And it wasn’t like Ranma had meant to drive that luxury sports car into that gang territory with her most previous items in it. The chaos cat distinctly remembered telling the child to take a left.
Oh well, they’d just to have Ms. Meioh’s car found in front of a brothel later.
“Now, Me-Boy, you got everything?”
Ranma nodded, looking at the large table before him, assorted piles of empty papers, pens, stamps, and envelops.
“Then get to it, it ain’t polite to ignore your friends.”
In a puff of smoke, several Ranmas materialized, before heading to places along the table and beginning to write their letters. They had after all met a lot of people over the years, and it just wouldn’t do to let them go. Of course, the sheer amount of trouble a shadow clone of his son could get his father into had nothing to do with it, absolutely not.
His father really needed to keep in touch with his friends too, so rather than have one boy write all the letters, why now divide them up between clones? The only thing they had to worry about was hiding the penmanship.
Forgery was a good life skill to know for any young teen.
The elderly lady stared at the young boy and her own granddaughter, trying not to laugh out loud.
“Miko,” she said, smiling slightly, “why are you tied up with your own hair ribbon … again?”
“She tried to tickle me,” said Ranma with a smile.
Lady Mido sighed again. “At least she has her clothes on this time,” she mumbled, trying very hard not to laugh.
The boy and his father had stumbled onto the Miroku lands a few days ago. Not sure of their intentions, a group of ninjas had been dispatched to find out. The boy had fled after somehow tripping up his father—who at the time had been trying to both blame the child for their being there and toss said child at the approaching women.
Don’t get her wrong, the man’s skills were very high. In regular combat, he was cutting right through the Miroku.
Then they tried Sexcraft. By the end, the man just crawled into a ball and kept mumbling “No-chan, not the cheerios.”
She herself had found the boy an hour later. He had apparently stumbled upon young Miko practicing her Sexcraft in the buff, startling the girl enough where she tried to take on the young Saotome by herself.
When Lady Mido had arrived, young Miko was hogtied by her own hair ribbon with the young male threatening to tickle her until she peed herself if his demands weren’t met.
He demanded … a shrubbery. “A good one, but not too expensive,” he finished.
So while his father was being interrogated—since Ranma hinted his father may have some minor connection to the recent panty raids in the greater Tokyo area—she was watching how Ranma and Miko got along. The boy was strong, charming, and most importantly of all, not a monster or member of a rival clan.
And she did hope to one day be a great-grandmother.
“Ranma, please free her so I can begin your lessons for the day,” she said with a smile.
It was against main policy to introduce an outsider to the Miroku Injutsu. Of course, those rules could be bent. She’d just say it was very possible Ranma could end up as Miko’s intended—female demon hunters tended to have a poor social life, so it always best to try and set them up early—and Genma had offered such a deal to escape interrogation. A prospective husband should know a few things to help his wife.
“Um … Sensei?” asked Ranma, “I don’t think I can learn it yet.”
“And why is that?” she asked.
“Cause he’s a big meanie!” yelled Miko.
“Nah,” waved off Ranma. “It’s cause my balls ain’t dropped yet.”
Lady Mido fought hard to not let the twitch she felt show. “Now child, this is not the time for your humor.”
THUNK! THUNK!
“Never mind,” smiled Ranma, as two steel ball bearing fell out of his pant legs and rolled across the stone path. “Wow,” he murmured. “Them being steel is good, right?”
“Granny, when will my balls drop?” asked Miko innocently.
Haruka Tenoh was a nervous wreck. Everywhere she went, some weird lady would always be staring at her. A few had even tried to entice her into their vehicles with promises of candy and toys. It had gotten so bad that she couldn’t even shower at school after gym anymore, afraid one of the girls there would act like the ones on the street.
She had already run screaming from her friend Maya after the girl had come to school with a haircut like one of the bad women. Oh sure, she said it was due to some boy putting gum in her hair and that it had to be cut out.
But the whole story sounded weak to her.
Her parents had become extremely worried about her. She knew one of the bad women talked and now her Daddy was souping some magazine.
No wait, it was suing. Souping was something one of the bad ladies had offered to do to her.
But tomorrow was going to be a good day, a day she always looked forward to, a day where the letter from the nice boy who helped her get away from some of the bad ladies wrote her. He was real nice, real funny, and he never tried to touch her in her danger zones.
So for now, she’d just rest inside her house and be glad for this safe haven.
“Haruka Tenoh.”
Paling, she turned slightly, spotting a woman standing behind her, wearing a sailor fuku, holding a staff, and sporting long emerald green hair. This was no safe lady; safe ladies didn’t dress like that.
That meant … she was a BAD LADY!
“My name is Sailor Pluto,” she began, speaking as calmly as she could. The day was already going to pot, what with so many divergences in the time stream that she had to clean up, and that was on top of having spent all day talking to some creditors about how she did not authorize a loan to be taken out in her name to fund the construction and startup of a chain of adult entertainment stores.
This of course was made worse because she recalled one of the creditors had been a responder to one of the magazines someone had put an ad in for her, despite the fact she had never heard of the publication. The creep had asked her if she really was interested in being spanked by a guy wearing a Minnie Mouse outfit.
She didn’t know how the person(s) responsible for this kept getting her account information. But for now, she had dealt with it … until a new batch hit her tomorrow.
Of course, she didn’t know that at the Miroku compound, they didn’t exactly have a phone line—it sort of defeated the whole point of having a secret compound if you had utilities bills to worry about—and thus she’d have a small vacation. Or that she should really be worried about the day after tomorrow when Ranma’s letters were fully out and more of the Chaos Kitty’s plans would take effect.
Damned slow postal service. He was really going to have to speak to some of the old postal Gods to see about fixing that.
Anyway, back to the Sailor Suited Warrior of Time. She was here because her most recent check of the Gates of Time had shown a 45.92% chance that Haruka would not attend the same school as her fated lover, Michiru Kaoih. With any luck, she could get this back on track and then spend the next few hours trying to figure out why the Senshi of Uranus was deviating from the future path Setsuna had worked so hard on.
“I am here to inform you of—MY EYES!” cried Pluto, as Haruka sprayed her in the face with a can of mace.
“MOMMY! DADDY! BAD WOMAN IN THE HOUSE! BAD WOMAN IN THE HOUSE!” cried Haruka as she darted towards a panic room. Was she truly safe nowhere?
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(Posted Fri, 06 Mar 2009 05:30)
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