The sad thing about many journeys is that one often doesn’t even know they have started. It isn’t until we are well underway along the path that we discover that our safe homes are far behind us, the unexplored before us, and the trail is one-way only; no matter how we wish it wasn’t so. Many complain, many whine, many accept, many rave at the supposed injustice.
But it changes nothing, no matter what your reaction is, even if you refuse to move from your spot on the path. The journey must and will continue, no matter the delays, no matter the reaction. The only thing that we can do is add to the time it takes us to overcome our fears and make that next step.
Sadly, we often forget another simple fact of any journey: we are never promised a happy ending, let alone a perfect journey.
We are only promise … that the journey … must continue.
----quote from ‘Our Journey Through Infinity’
“Lousy Rasa-racking thieves,” the wizard muttered, making his way to his closet chamber. Was it too much to expect random idiots not to piss of the Grand Ruler of Seven Dimensions? Had he not deserved the peace and quiet after subjugating all of those races, wiping out their free will, and crushing all resistance with an iron fist?
“And how the frell did they even get to that horde?” he muttered aloud, the large, thick doors opening automatically for him. Not that there was anything important in that horde, anyway.
But it was the principle of the thing. What sort of evil overlord would he be if he let someone steal from him, even if it was something he couldn’t give two Sarns about?
“Now, let’s see,” he muttered, looking about the shelves. “Which of my many creations could I send after those thieves?” The walls were lined with jars, each one containing a premade creation for use to release on some villagers. “Something that will kill them, but that I won’t mind not being able to retrieve…”
“Ah, this one,” he said, picking up a rather dusty jar. “By the Dark Gods, this takes me back,” he giggled, heading towards a small crystal sphere buried within the center of the room. He remembered when he first started his reign of terror, using this very monster to attack a Kingdom in which his citadel now stood—for real, his citadel was as wide as the Kingdom he had conquered and so tall, the clouds were forced to go around it. They had put up a decent fight, but when they thought they had defeated the creature that had slaughtered a good bit of their ranks, they discovered the beast’s second ability.
“Go, my pawn,” the wizard murmured, waving one hand over the jar, making it glow yellow, attaching the second part of the curse to its senses—the ability to forever track the ones he marked, no matter where they run. “Hunt down those who dared steals from me, across all barriers, hunt them down and slaughter them without mercy, my Duos Elementum!”
And with that, he dropped the jar onto the crystal … where it fell through, as if the sphere was nothing but water.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the operator’s voice responded on the phone, “but the number you gave me is listed as a M. Hoshiro.”
Nabiki just stared for a moment, trying to wrap her head around what was happening. After Ranma had pulled them back into reality—instead of the gray world of what he called his subspace pocket—they had discovered themselves two wards over from Nerima.
It wasn’t so bad, especially if she could convince him to use it to ferry packages. She was relatively certain they hadn’t walked even half the distance they had appeared to travel. If she could commercialize it, she’d be rich!
Of course, he had then started complaining about the evil wizard and such. Really, one would think the guy had no sense of adventure.
But seeing the time and checking the train schedules, she noticed that they wouldn’t make it back in time for dinner—the good or bad of that depending on who was cooking that night, as well if Akane was keeping whatever she had made for ‘a family meal’.
Deciding to be cautious—and likely not need to have her stomach pumped again because Kasumi tried to pass of Akane’s cooking as her own to convince others to try it—she tried to call home from a phone at a nearby ice cream shop.
The call was answered by Liu Won’s Classic Italian Restaurant.
Deciding that her father must have simply chosen not to spend the family’s money on a phone bill—not while stupid plans for a forced wedding or a worthy bar were near—she tried to call both the Ucchan and the Nekohanten. Offering Ukyo or Shampoo a tip of when Ranma would be returning to the Dojo would cover it. She’d just have them inform Kasumi that Ranma would be running late and to hold his meal for him so Genma didn’t ‘lose track of it’. And by an odd coincidence, she too would return home at around that time. On the plus side, they’d bring food, and while fighting over feeding some to Saotome, she could sneak some off for a decent meal … before it got destroyed in the ensuing brawl.
One was a disconnected number; the other belonged to a place that claimed it was a massage parlor, but had some woman fakingly moaning pretty loud in the background. And she knew those two would never let their phones be shut off—or at least, Cologne wouldn’t, seeing as how delivery was a good bit of the Amazon’s income.
Deciding to take a wild chance that her message might get delivered, she decided to give Tatewaki a try.
It was answered by a receptionist for a mental health clinic.
She wasn’t too sure what to read into that.
Several more calls to several of her associates, not one was answered by people she expected.
One call to the operator to check to make sure no one had changed the area codes for Nerima Ward, and still no luck. Even asking her to look up the phone numbers for those people and places had yielded anything.
“Excuse me, but if I give you the addresses I have for a few of the people I’m trying to reach, might you be able to tell me if they have a new number?”
“Well, normally we wouldn’t; but go ahead, dearie.” It was obvious the Operator was taking pity on her, and her lack of contacting people she knew. Far be it for Nabiki not to take advantage of that.
Half the addresses did not exist, three were unoccupied buildings, two were businesses she hadn’t even heard of, and one was a funeral parlor.
Slowly lowering the phone back to the receiver, she stared ahead, trying to figure out what was going on.
So immersed in her inner thoughts, she never noticed Ranma heading to the nearby restroom as a girl, patting her stomach, and come out a few minutes later as a male, heading back to the eating area.
“I know I’m doin’ it right,” he muttered, looking at the plastic spoon before him. Focusing his eyes once more, he tried to slip the spoon into his stuff-space pocket.
Once again, a shimmer of his chi enveloped the spoon, before a minor flash of yellow seemed to disperse it.
“Damn wizard,” Ranma muttered. “Just when I start to have fun with it, they gotta mess it up.” Tapping his finger against the table, he continued to stare at it, willing it to give him a clue about how to fix it.
None came.
“Um, excuse me?”
Well, nothing but the vendor. “Yeah?” asked Ranma.
“I … I don’t mean to be rude,” the guy stuttered, before thrusting a piece of paper out to Ranma. “Couldyoupleasegivethistoyoursister!” he cried out, before darting behind the counter and into the back.
Ranma just blinked, before looking down at the paper, and back up again, noticing that the guy was not even checking to make certain Ranma had kept the number for his ‘sister’, let alone if Ranma would reply that he even knew the redhead who had been in that seat before. “O~kay,” he muttered, as Nabiki returned to her seat, derailing his thoughts on exactly how he should react to that.
Judging by her glare, she wasn’t happy. There’s a shock, he bitterly thought. “What?” he asked.
“Just how far did you take us, Saotome?” she asked, tapping a finger on the counter.
“What do you—” he paused, eyes going wide and looking off out the window.
Nabiki felt herself shiver, but couldn’t think of a reason for it. Looking up, she noticed Ranma was no longer paying any attention to her. His eyes didn’t seem to be focused on anything, as he gazed out the window. “Saotome?”
“We gotta go!” Ranma growled, grabbing her hand, and running towards the exit.
It would be a minute later that the cashier would come out from his embarrassment, exit the back area, and sigh in relief that not only was the register untouched, but he didn’t see the crumpled message to the hot redhead in any of the refuse bins.
“Now, just gotta make sure I answer the phone before my mother or father,” he muttered, shivering in fright at what those two might do if they found out he was trying to woo a girl.
Deciding to focus more on the fact he might actually have a shot with the buxom redhead—and beginning to wonder if the stereotypes he had heard of redheads were even true—he began to hum to himself as he cleaned up the booth and counter.
He also paid no head to the racing throngs of people outside the store. After all, he wasn’t a newbie to Juuban District, Minato Ward, Tokyo.
“And just where are we going, Saotome?” Nabiki asked, her tone much flatter than one would expect for someone being carried bridal style across the rooftops.
“Something’s here, and it feels kinda like that jackass’s magic,” Ranma growled.
“Oh… So … we’re going in the opposite direction?”
“Nah, can’t let it just run about,” Ranma replied with his typical cocky smile.
She really wanted to slap the back of his head, she truly did, if for nothing else than to try and knock that ‘saving people’ ideal from his mind. But being three stories up at their lowest approach, she didn’t trust him to not drop her … even if he would probably somehow catch her before she impacted the harsh concrete below. “And just why are you dragging me along?” she asked.
He opened his mouth to respond … and left it open as if he was trying to figure out the answer. “Umm…”
That was about all he could get out before they landed on the street, spotting a three meter tall figure walking down it.
Oh, it was also covered in flames, eyes as black as night, and randomly blowing up whatever it came across. Thankfully, there was no scent of burnt meat of any type, so it appeared it hadn’t killed anything living.
“CHIRP!” WHOOSH!
… Pigeons don’t count.
Slowly it paused, its eyes appearing to scan the vacant street, before it settled on them.
“I get the feeling he’s here for us,” Ranma muttered, setting Nabiki back on her feet behind him, and slipping into a fighting stance.
She was fully prepared to give him her standard-style remark—sarcasm—but was interrupted by a voice from a neighboring rooftop.
“Halt, evil doer!”
Blinking—yes, even the fiery monster as well—the trio slowly craned their necks—or what passed for them in the monster’s case—towards the roof … and spotted nine women in short skirts and a guy wearing a tuxedo.
“… Just how lost did you get us, Saotome?” Nabiki asked, recognizing those girls, but also, recognizing that they were from a manga and video collection Kasumi used to watch with them as kids. Hell, she’d even gone with her mother one time to Juuban District in hopes of catching them on film, the beginning of a young Nabiki’s obsession with pictures.
That was the day her mother explained the difference between fantasy and reality … several years before the Saotomes had arrived and reset it once again.
“Sunny days and neighborhood shops are for people to enjoy, especially with those they cherish in mind or hand!” shouted the blond with long pigtails. “In the name of—”
“Möko Takabisha!”
“Huh?” the blond asked, as a ball of golden blue energy leapt from the outstretched hands of the boy in the street, striking the distracted fire creature, and sending it toppling over itself for several meters.
“Hey! I wasn’t finished!” the blond yelled, as the male raced forward.
Sighing, Nabiki just looked around—both for cover and perhaps an abandoned vendor’s cart to ‘borrow’ some cameras. At the very least, when Saotome got them home, she could sell the photos for a fortune.
It wasn’t everyday you ran across a cartoon series brought to life, especially that of Sailor Moon.
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(Posted Thu, 20 Jan 2011 18:33)
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