Ranma looked about him to see where he landed. The area wasn't immediately familiar to him, but then again, he did not have the most photographic memory in the world. He had landed in some kind of park, with shining metal benches and verdant trees and grass. Such parks were not uncommon in the world, but Ranma couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right. After making such a landing, he expected to be surrounded by people gawking at his new power... but there was nobody, not a soul around. The park was, in fact, devoid of any sign that human beings had ever been there since its construction. No blowing plastic bags. No scraps of paper. No crude chalk drawings or hopscotch boards on the pavement. No remnants of food or drink. Nothing.
Ranma began to walk, in no particular direction. Normally, he would not find it odd in the least that nobody was in his immediate area -- he would assume that there were other people around somewhere else, and enjoy the few minutes of peace and quiet that solitude would afford him. But this was different, somehow, and Ranma now wanted nothing more than to talk to someone, anyone at all.
He had walked the paved paths for a few minutes -- he was not wearing a watch and so wasn't sure of the time -- when he came across something quite curious. A line in the ground, slightly arced, that separated the pristine path upon which he walked from a shattered concrete avenue, and that similarly separated the lively and green grass from a new area of brown, dead plant life. Ranma looked forward, the path was dead and broken as far as he could see it. He looked behind him, the path was as fresh as it had been made by Ameratsu Herself five minutes ago
Or if I'd made it five minutes ago, Ranma thought. This whole place was dead... then I restored it around the crater. Where AM I?
He knew that with his newfound power, he could remake the world to exactly as he had left it, but he didn't want to right now, and he didn't know if he would EVER want to. He wanted to know what had happened here before he landed. He began to run.
Eventually, he emerged from the park's twisting paths to a large street. The street had not fared much better than the park's paths: the asphalt was cracked thousands of times, at some points reduced to black gravel. In other areas he could see, entire slabs were pointing at odd directions. Cars, rusted and abandoned hulks, filled the street, forcing him to squeeze between them to move onward. He could have parted them, or destroyed them altogether, but the thought of using those powers again caused chills to shoot down Ranma's spine. Other than the noises of him grunting as he climbed over and between the vehicles, there was not a single sound in the city, not a man talking, not a pigeon cooing, not a car running.
Ranma made it to the other side of the street, and saw that he had landed in an English-speaking city -- or at least, what was once an English-speaking city. He couldn't tell if he was in America or England, however, since the cars that had packed the road faced both directions on both sides, making it impossible to determine what side they were supposed to be driving on. All he could use to determine his location was the storefront in front of him, which said "Boing Boing Burgers" in a comic-esque typeface. Ranma was dimly aware that he couldn't read English, but it was not the highest of his concerns right now.
He turned around and cupped his hands to his face, shouting "Hello! Is anybody out there? Can anybody hear me?"
His only response: an echo, reflected off of the tall buildings that surrounded him. He turned to begin walking down the sidewalk when a flash of white caught his eye. A second's investigation revealed it to be a newspaper, trapped under the tire of one of the stalled cars. With some effort he forced it from its holding place, opened it, and read the headline:
(Posted Sun, 08 Jun 2003 07:14)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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