AN: Just to let you know this chapter is probably going to be crap because I'm suffering from lack of inspiration (LOI) and focusing more on my original work and other fandoms. Reviewing kicks my ass in gear. ;-)

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"So then… where are we going?" Ryoma asked lamely.

"Just for a tour around the world. The wind is very favorable today," Uncle took a deep breath and smelled the air. "Unusually warm for this time of night, eh? Just take a seat and enjoy the ride for now."

Sure enough, when Ryoma looked behind himself, two airplane seats were there and his cup holder had an opened can of grape Ponta. Ryoma sat down followed by Uncle and waited for the show. The wind started picking up and before he could realize what happened they were being flung up into the air. Ryoma screamed.

He faintly heard Uncle laughing and saying something along the lines of, "It's always a surprise the first time." but didn't pay attention due to the rising air pressure, his lacking ability to inhale, and the howling of the wind and his own vocal chords. Ryoma immediately regretted his decision.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!" he yelled, tearing at his unused vocal chords because, Ryoma rarely said anything more than "Mada mada dane" and "I'm home." Uncle clasped his hand over Ryoma's mouth and screamed almost as loud:

"BRAT!! DON'T FRICKIN YELL SO LOUD THE HUMANS 'LL HEAR YOU DOWN THERE!!"

"I DON'T CARE!! YOU FLING ME OVER A HUNDRED FEET AT TWELVE 'O CLOCK AND EXPECT ME TO NOT DO ANYTHING?!"

"YES!! YOU WANNA BE FLUNG A HUNDRED FEET? I'LL SHOW A HUNDRED FEET!!"

All of a sudden the two chairs with two very stubborn people were "flung" as Ryoma so graciously put it higher into the air. Only this time, they didn't stay in the air. They plummeted very, very, quickly. So quickly, in fact, that the seats started catching fire.

"Great... now would you please stop us from becoming charred bone?"

Uncle looked around stupidly, "I-I didn't think it out that far," he admitted.

Ryoma's eyes bulged and looked around at the smoking chairs. "YOU IDIOT! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE THROUGH THIS?!" Ryoma tried to yell as loud as he did the last time, but his vocal chords were too used up.



"Um…um… think of this as an educational experience. Lesson 1: control your energy in stressful situations." Ryoma opened his mouth to shout (kinda) something back, but was silenced with a

"Shut up so I can think and we won't all be barbecued in the skies of Tokyo." The chairs burst into flames as they gained speed in the atmosphere. "Give me your pinky!" he yelled through the howling ringing sound in his ears and the immense speed and heat, even according to djinn preferences.

Uncle grabbed his pinky and Ryoma felt a painfully tingly sensation spreading through his core. Uncle shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. The wind slowly started to subside and the temperature dropped under 300 degrees.

"Just a little more," Uncle said through a shut mouth, "Help me here, Ryoma."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Just think about how much you wouldn't want to end up a barbeque for street dogs."

"Well that's easy." So, despite all his reluctant brattyness , Ryoma consecutively thought I don't want to be die here. I don't want to die here. I don't want to die here. It looked like it was working.

Slowly but surely, they touched down in an almost deserted alleyway scaring the shit out of a schizophrenic homeless man, who ran away screaming bloody murder about the cabboozeles , drenched in sweat looking like they took a swim in the oceans. Ryoma was pissed.

"So," Uncle grinned sheepishly, "That didn't go as planned."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"But no worries, Ryoma, no worries. Now you know to not be rash when you're travelling by whirlwind. Oh, and don't ever offer anyone your pinky. It's the outlet for all your luck."

…the hell? "Where exactly have you dropped us?" Ryoma asked even though he already knew the answer. No, of course the man that nearly got him killed couldn't know where he was.

"In a dark alley in downtown Tokyo. There's a subway station near here. I can get you home in about twenty minutes."

Well, he's not that bad.

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"Boy! Where the hell have you been all night? And dressed like that!"

Ryoma paid the retired tennis player no heed and answered, "Flying over Tokyo," before heading upstairs to his room.

Outside the door to his room Ryoma found Karupin glaring at him humanely. Ryoma was in no condition to deal with her.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped. The cat shook her head before running away.

Ryoma took of the clothes that were unlike what he usually wore and went to sleep.

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"Ryoma-sama is in a bad mood!"

That is what spread from the lower grades to the sempais when Ryoma walked through the door; For starters, he made Momo late by leaving to go to school by himself (he woke up early) and failing to tell him not to bother coming. When he got into first period English he was not falling asleep or embarrassing the teacher.

"R-ryoma-kun, is something bothering you?" Sakuno asked Ryoma catiously after he agreed to hand out a worksheet to the class.

"Why should something be bothering me? Does it look like something's wrong with me?" Ryoma yelled, to the dismay of everyone within 100 yards of him.

"…yes, actually."

The teacher sent Ryoma to the principal's office without further comment.

Hours later, Ryoma was very angry as he made his way to tennis practice. Tezuka had bailed him out of counseling moments earlier and instead had reduced him to picking up balls with the rest of the seventh graders. Oh, the perils of disgracing an already ill-tempered Ryoma suffering from Ponta withdrawal! Momo came up to him asking why he wasn't waiting for him in the morning while Ryoma had a ball in his hand. Ryom looked at the ball. Then he looked at Momo. Then he looked at the ball again and one of his old smirks crept up over his face. Ryoma threw the ball like a twist serve at Momo hitting him square in the middle of his forehead. Momo collapsed to the ground.