The Powerpuff Girls: PSHAW!

or

Powerpuff School Hijinks And Wackiness

A Powerpuff Girls fanfiction by Andrew J. Talon

With contributions from Scriviner, Ryuugi, Fanboyimus Prime and others

DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan based work of prose. The Powerpuff Girls are the property of Cartoon Network. No copyright infringement is intended, please support the official release.

The Narrator's Voice is in Italics! Just so you know! And no, I'm not out to steal any princesses. Geez, you can only make so many actor's allusions at a time you know!

A beautiful mountainous land in the Himalayas. And far below in a small town, there lies a plain bar built out of wood and held together with rope, tarps, bricks, and a lot of hope.

The ci... Er... Town of Lukla, Nepal. Where the peace and solitude of the highest place on Planet Earth is sought by those who have lived long... And fought long.

Within this bar, brightly colored Nepalese prayer flags hang around the creaking rafters. A few foreign tourists drink and laugh as a TV blares in the background, a pair of old men play Bagh-Chal under an old gas lantern's light, and local workers trade stories and drink hard after a long day. In a shadowed corner, a man in nothing more than a simple white kimono, a woven straw hat, and a sword sits. His hat shadows his face, as he slowly brings up a cup of tea. He sips it, eyes staring out at nothing.

"Hello." The old man looks up, eyes locking onto nothing but air. "Ah... Down here, sonny."

He looked down and saw a small, American woman. Her gray hair was done up in a bun, she wore large glasses over a face covered in wrinkles from smiling. She approached him and sat on the stool opposite his, pleasant. Jack slowly nodded back to her.

"Hello," he said.

"You seem a bit lost," she said softly. The man was unable to help a smile at the woman's kindly disposition.

"I wander... And I do not know where next I will go. I suppose... That is the definition."

The woman continued to stare at him. The man stared back.

"... May I have some of your tea?" She asked. She produced a mug, decorated with a picture of a rabbit in a top hat and monocle. The man reached into a pouch in his kimono, and produced a small amount of tea leaves. He ground them up in his hands, and let them fall into her mug. She smiled at him, and took hold of the hot water sitting atop the table. She poured it, and swirled it around. She sniffed the tea, and sighed.

"Ah... Wonderful. My favorite teas back home all carry particular scents... Memories." She looked up at him. "There's a tale in every cup, I find."

"Oh?" The man asked softly. The little old woman nodded, looking into the tea.

"Yes... Yours is a long tale. Full of struggle, tragedy... Loss," she said. "And triumph..."

"Yes," he said softly. "But..."

"Not the victory you expected?" The little old woman asked. The man nodded slowly.

"... My quest was victorious, and yet... The world I knew is gone." He sighed. "And I can never return to it."

"Was your victory completely hollow?" The old woman asked. "Is there nothing in this new world for you?"

The man was silent for a long time.

"... I had a wife... And child, back in America," he said at last. "But when I lost her... I left."

"And your son?" The old woman asked. The man sighed, looking down at his tea.

"... I do not know," he admitted. "I have... Heard things, but..." He looked back up. "I do not know if I deserve to return. If he will even..."

The old woman sipped the tea. She then reached into her bag... And whapped the man's knuckles with a walking stick. The man's eyes widened in shock and a bit of pain.

"How... Why...?"

"For being a damn fool, of course, heeheehee!" The old woman cackled. She shook her head at the man with a smile. "It is shame that keeps you away... Your shame that keeps you wandering. Not hatred, not resentment from your son..." She looked up at him. He frowned.

"But if he turned me away..."

"Then you would be no worse than you are now," the old woman said plainly. "At least you wouldn't be torturing yourself like an old fool."

The man stared for a long time at the old woman, who finished her tea. She sighed happily, and smiled up at him.

"Thank you for your tea," she said with a polite bow. "And the conversation."

"No," he said softly. He rose to his full, tall height, and bowed to the old woman. "Thank you." He set some coins on the table and smiled at her before he slowly turned and left. The little old lady giggled, and checked her email happily.

"Ohohoho! Looks like Frankie is enjoying herself... Poor Mac. Sooner they give me some grandkids, the better..."

The city of Townsville... And unfortunately, it is raining again. No crime because it is raining, no fun, no joy... And especially no crime fighting for the Powerpuff Girls, who sit watching the rain fall.

"Man, this stinks," Buttercup groused. "Nothing to do, nowhere to go...!"

"And there's nothing on YouTube I haven't seen like fifty times already!" Bubbles huffed, floating in mid air. Blossom was busy reading.

"You could just meditate," suggested Blossom, eyes scanning the pages of her tome quickly. Buttercup scowled.

"I tried that a while ago," she said flatly. "There's only so much I can do..." She trailed off as she saw a figure approaching the house. "Hey look! We've got a visitor!"

"Oh?" Bubbles asked, looking out the window. "Who is it?"

"I don't know," Blossom said with a frown. "He looks almost like..."

The doorbell rang. Professor Antonio Utonium looked up from his television watching, and looked at the door. He rose, his pipe smoking from his lips, and walked to the front door. He slowly reached up to the doorknob. He turned it, and pulled it open.

"Hello?" He asked. The dark figure slowly looked up as lightning flashed above him, revealing a weathered, square face. Lines of white cut through his dark hair across a square head. His hair was tied into a short topknot, and his eyes were as black as coal.

At the obi of his white kimono hung a katana that, even sheathed, seemed to glow with an inner light. And on his feet were plain wooden shoes.

Professor Utonium's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. His pipe fell to the floor, clattering and spreading ashes across the threshold.

"... D-Dad?" Utonium gasped. The aged samurai very slowly nodded.

"Hello, my son," he said softly. "It... it has been a long time."

"I... Y-yes, it has," Utonium said quickly. The samurai bowed his head.

"I... I do not know how to ask your forgiveness... For leaving so long ago... But if I can make amends-"

The samurai's eyes widened as he felt Utonium's arms around his shoulders. He looked to his son, his chin on his shoulder. Utonium's eyes were barely holding back unshed tears. Jack's eyes then slowly softened... And his arms wrapped around his son's shoulders in return.

"Professor? Who is it?" Asked a young girl's voice. Utonium wiped his eyes, and removed one arm from his father. His other arm stretched around his shoulders, and he turned them to face the speaker. The old samurai's eyes widened as he beheld three young girls, floating on the staircase.

"Girls? I'd like you to meet your grandfather... My father..." Utonium smiled brightly. "This is your Grandpa-"

"Jack," the old samurai said, with a small smile. "They call me Jack..."

Oh wow... Looks like this is going to be a nice Father's Day after all!