Chapter Sixteen
Background Theme: The Wind Rides on Wings
Think, Vic, think!
My mind raced desperately as I considered my options, returning to the auditorium to gather my things before I left Furinkan High. Shampoo was out for blood, and her misguided actions about to be committed in anger were going to have more serious repercussions than she realized. In Akane no Ranma, Shampoo passes a powder of some sort to Akane that ends up poisoning Ranma instead. The question was, when was she going to do this, where was this to take place, and how was Shampoo going to do it? The story itself was unclear on how it happened.
Wait a moment. The Story?
I began to feel dizzy for a moment, and haze began to surround me as I realized…
I'm dreaming! I'm dreaming the story again! The last thing I remember is Alisha; I remember her crying herself to sleep in my arms. Now I'm here. It's only a dream. Damn! I'm starting to wake up!
I began to feel a pressure against my chest. Alisha, breathing softly, as she slept in my arms.
Let her sleep. I'm needed here!
The haze began to merge, forming a dense, bright fog that I recognized as the beginnings of consciousness. I felt myself begin to, figuratively and literally, rise toward awareness. If I did not do something soon, I would be awake in moments.
If there's one thing that bugs the Holy Bejesus out of me, it's an unresolved dream.
STOP! I screamed forcefully to myself.
FOCUS! I concentrated on my surroundings, willing myself to remain "rooted" where I stood at center stage. I concentrated on the one detail that had not been obscured – the podium. Slowly, I began to descend back through levels of consciousness until my feet touched the stage. I brought my hands in front of me in a meditative gesture, lacing my fingers together, palms touching, my thumbs and forefingers extended and touching as well. Looking over the tips of my forefingers, I narrowed my eyes, gathered all my strength, and felt the vertigo subside as I began to reweave myself into the dream.
With some difficulty, I began to walk, haltingly, to the podium. My conscious mind, not used to existing in the dimensions of a dreamscape, continued to tug at the edges of my awareness. As long as I concentrated, though, I would continue to remain a part of the flow of this dream. Gripping the podium tightly, I focused harder on the visual details -- the smells, the sounds, the feel -- of the dream until the vertigo and dizziness subsided completely. Glancing up, the details of the auditorium slowly returned to normal; the seats, the doorways, the spotlight to the rear of the upper balcony, everything, I found resolving into much sharper focus. I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the flow of the dream continue normally.
Turning my thoughts to the matter at hand, I pondered my next course of action. How far had the original story timeline been thrown off being interwoven into my own dreams? Did it really matter, since this dream was a creation of my own imagination? It had been early afternoon when the confrontation between Shampoo and Ranma occurred. According to the story, Ranma dies that same night. Whatever the feats of plot maneuvering I had planned, I only had a few hours at most to put them into practice. I smirked to myself as the threads of a plan began to twist and tie and interlace themselves together in the recesses of my mind. Shampoo, for all her skill and expertise at martial arts and the deviousness she has shown herself capable of, hasn't quite proven herself to be the brightest of people when her emotions got the best of her. Maybe I could use that to my advantage. My impending meeting with Nabiki would be doubly fruitful, if she would agree to an additional request.
As if on cue, my watch beeped a quiet reminder of the end of the school day. I glanced down at the watch face, admiring Mario in his state of carefree flight. Of course, this being a dream, his hologram was a bit more animated than normal, with his winged hat flapping wildly and his already exaggerated smile taking on chibi proportions. I supposed if I willed it, he'd fly right off my watch. Mario seemed to be looking back expectantly. I chuckled to myself. "Sorry, Lad…perhaps another time."
Looking across the auditorium one last time, I turned and walked to the end of the stage, quickly descended the small set of stairs at stage right, and left through the main doors to the rear.
A light breeze fluttered through the trees near the Furinkan's main entrance, kicking up dried leaves in a tiny dust devil. Afternoon skies delivered a slight haze of sunlight that filtered through the branches, casting shadows across the campus' main walk. Reaching the outside gate, I stopped and looked left, right, then across the street, perusing the possible routes I might take. To be honest, I wasn't quite sure where Uchan's was located, but I knew just the person who would – and judging by the noisy female ruckus approaching me from behind, he and I were about to cross paths.
Ducking around the campus wall to my left, I listened, my back against the wall, hoping I was going to time this right. Fortunately, a telltale "What a haul! What a haul!" gave his position away. I stuck my foot out slightly just as a brown and gray blur zipped past the corner. The blur struck my foot lightly, but enough to cause the racing form to fly headlong into the street with a surprised "Whaaaaa!?". The mob of indignant young ladies, armed with everything from clubs to brooms, set upon the hapless Happosai with determined relish. After pounding and grinding the licentious little lecher into a limp La La Land, the girls retrieved a large bound bundle Happosai had been hauling and victoriously toted it off in the direction of the school gymnasium. I smiled, shaking my head, not feeling the least bit guilty over my behavior.
Shaking his head groggily, the antiquated Master of the Founding School of Anything Goes Martial Arts slowly stood as he regained his wits. Upon discovering the loss of his precious lace and cotton prizes, his face set into a hard grimace. Looking quickly around, his battle aura began to glow a bright red as his searching eyes fell upon me.
"You! It's your fault! How DARE you! Feel the wrath of the Ultimate Final Attack of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts! Happo Fire…"
SMACK!!!
"Ow! What the…? Woah, what a beauty!"
One fault in most of the Ultimate Final Attacks from any Martial Arts School is that the user seems compelled to announce it for about thirty seconds preceding the actual attack. Happosai's particular spiel had granted me sufficient time to reach into that Nether Dimension (where such things as Akane's Mallet, Happosai's Fireburst Bombs, and Genma-Panda's signs come from) and pull out a pair of fine lace panties of such excellent quality as to send this particular fetish hound into ecstasy. It also helped that the light scent of a sweet-smelling perfume emanated from the undergarment, which Happosai immediately took notice of the moment I smacked him alongside his head to disrupt his attack.
"Consider it a consolation prize, Master Happosai," I offered. "I'm sorry to have resorted to this measure to get your attention, but I am in need of your help." I introduced myself, explaining to him what I was doing at the school and further explained that I needed directions to Uchan's to meet with Nabiki Tendo to seek her help on casting my theatrical projects. "I hear," I began with slight hesitation, feeling a sweatdrop beginning to form on the back of my head, "that you are quite the thespian yourself. I could offer you a part (a very small one, I thought to myself) in one of the shows as a reward for your assistance."
Happosai's eyes lit up at the thought of a chance in the spotlight. "Well, yes, I…ahem…could take the time out of my busy schedule to accommodate you and your play…" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as he attempted to lay on the charm, but was thankful that he was forthcoming with directions.
"It's settled then. I'll be in touch…if I don't wake up first," I replied, suppressing the latter under my breath, and headed in the direction Happosai had indicated. Rounding a corner, I snapped my fingers, an ear-to-ear grin on my face as I contemplated Happosai's sudden surprise at the just-as-sudden disappearance of his newfound prize. My musings were confirmed a moment later with a loud yelp and a cry of "No Fair!" blurted from the direction of the school. I chuckled softly to myself and picked up my stride as I turned onto another street, Uchan's shop sign quickly coming into view.
I found myself wondering what okonomiyaki would taste like as the frying smells of Asian cuisine drifted through the open restaurant door.