Sitting in meditation, Ranma allowed himself to slip deeper into it, trying to resolve a problem he’d been having since arriving on this strange world: connecting with his chi.
Granted, it probably would have been easier if he didn’t have mana from his Dungeon Heart always flowing into him when he tried to perform his signature chi attack: the Möko Takabisha. But when did a difficult task ever stop a Saotome?
He’d been meaning to do this for a while. However, with keeping Horny from slaughtering everyone, building up his dungeon to store everything they looted from Keeper Sidarian’s place, and keep his new ‘wife’—that still sent shivers down his back and he once again swore that little tidbit would never be said in Nerima, lest he be killed in many painful ways—happy, he hadn’t had much time.
Well, that and the Mistresses now in his army insisted on constantly sparring with him. It was like they enjoyed the pain.
“Wait, they do,” he muttered, shaking his head and trying to slip back into his meditation, made harder by all the thoughts now running through his mind. It ended up being a very embarrassing spar that luckily no other females had been around to witness.
In addition, since he didn’t wake up with a fireball to his face, he was pretty sure Lina either hadn’t known, been told, or didn’t care. Nevertheless, hell if he’d mention it. He was having enough trouble with the woman without adding to it. That peck on the cheek still made him nervous, especially remembering her earlier rant about ‘marital duties’.
Besides, his wife—insert shudder here—was at Skid Row now, getting clothes for her and Skuld, supplies, and whatever else she wanted. Seras was with her for protection, and if things turned bad, he supposed she could always summon Horny. They offered him a chance to go as well.
However, remembering his own shopping adventures as ‘Ranko Tendo’ with his mother, no way was he going to go through that again.
Besides, if anything needed carried, well, that was what Imps were for.
So thankfully, he had been left behind, the Mentor going with the girls to ensure nothing bad happened—or at least bad enough where he’d find out if Lina could summon him like the minions—and introduce them to The Tailor.
Thus for the moment, he could finally fix this little flaw without interruption and rest assured that for a while, she was someone else’s problem for a few hours.
Standing up, he faced the stone block in the center of the room—he had no idea what to make the room yet, so it was just going to be his private training room for the moment. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, and cupping his hands forward.
Beating Ryoga, beating Herb, kicking Saffron’s ass, tossing the old freak about… he thought, reimagining his greatest achievements, his confidence levels soaring.
“Möko Takabisha!”
As expected, the attack formed, but the shell of golden blue was marred with a center that was black-red, streaked forward towards the slab of rock … and vaporized it.
“Well … that’s different,” he muttered. He hadn’t put that much into it. At best, it should have punched through the rock, maybe blown it up.
Vaporizing was definitely not what he had thought would have occurred.
“Damn mana,” he cursed, shoulders slumping. Once again, the mana from his Dungeon Heart had leaked into his chi technique, sending its power insanely high. At the least, it would be a great offensive weapon.
Nevertheless, in Nerima, he’d probably slaughter Bacon Bits and the rest of the ‘Its Ranma’s Fault’ troop, which was a definite no-no.
“Maybe I should go ask those Warlock guys,” he muttered. They’d probably be glad to help him, as long as he kept his wife—[shudder]—away from them.
Lina had handled a lot about this world since her … arrival. She was used to the strange ways magic worked, the fact that none of her spells that called on the higher known Mazoku worked, her ‘summoner’s’ filing system sucked, she had been thrown into a marriage to a guy who changed genders due to water temperature and had a bigger chest that her—no woman should be married to a guy who wore a bigger bra than yourself, and currently being in the shop of an effeminate Dark Elf who seemed stressed to be dressing them…
She felt that she had taken it all pretty well.
However, this…
“I truly fail to see the problem,” The Tailor spoke.
Despite his earlier bellowing, she had refused to burn her old outfit. She had come in, ready to really spend a good portion of Keeper Sidarian’s funds—he was dead, what did he need it for?—and get some extra outfits, so she could change clothes at least four times a week.
What she had made her look like another one of Ranma’s. “This looks like it is made for my … husband,” she stated.
“Well, a married couple must match,” The Tailor stated with a flourish. “Why, this outfit just practically screams ‘fear us, for together, we shall send your worthless soul to the inner-most ring of the Abyss!’”
Rubbing her temples, Lina turned towards the mirror. Okay, so it wasn’t as … bright as her former outfit. It resembled Ranma’s is cut and color tone, with the exception of a black widow’s cut, allowing exposure from her neck, slimming down to her breasts, and widening out again and exposing her belly button. If anything, it screamed more towards her friend, Naga, than something Lina would wear.
But damn! It did make her look hot.
“It is a fine outfit for a female Keeper, Mistress,” The Mentor commented, knowing the exact reason the girl was uncomfortable with the outfit, having heard some of her mutterings. An outfit that emphasized what she had on top was likely an outfit that made her feel wrong.
But a self-conscious Keeper was a dead Keeper, and one could hardly fall to the Darkness if they were worried about the perception of others. While it did allow him a path to further corrupt the young maiden, it would also have to be dealt with sooner rather than later, preferably after he had made the necessary inroads to her psyche.
And The Tailor would be excellent at that. Even if some were turned off by his flamboyant nature, the Dark Elf could read a being like a book. How else could he acquire such a reputation if he couldn’t see the truth behind your eyes.
Ah, how he missed playing the game as it was. But that didn’t really lessen the thrill of that game as it is now.
Though he did hope The Tailor worked a bit quicker. The Greater Vampire was already having trouble keeping the young slave from wrapping herself in a bolt of cloth.
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(Posted Thu, 06 May 2010 00:03)
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