My Little Ranma - Friendship is Dissonant
Chapter 3
How'd you like them apples?
I charge through the orchard, thankful that the trees have been planted in tidy rows. Heat burns through my legs as I force ki into my muscles, eking out every bit of speed that I can. The buffalo trample down a path, kicking up a huge plume of dust, and I realise that they will reach the town before me.
I see the strangest sight as I reach the town. The townsfolk have raised up barriers, and are throwing apple pies at the invaders rather than risking a direct physical confrontation. Scoffing at such an ineffectual defence, I hurl myself into the stampeding buffalos.
I land on the head of a lead buffalo, bringing him down to the ground, kick another on the cheek causing him to stumble into another with both tripping over as a result. I leap from one buffalo to the next, landing knock out punches on as many as I can.
The pies stop flying and the buffalo stop their charge.
The eyes of everyone in the town are on me. A banner hanging across the Main Street slowly flutters to the ground, bearing the words, "Annual Appleoosa Apple-pickin' Apple-Pie Apple-Run."
In the silent pause, a lone tumbleweed drifts across the main street.
Oops.
An angry yell from the crowd initiates the action as pies start flying in my direction. At the same time, the buffalo stampede at me, heads down, horns leading. The buffalo charge is easy enough to evade, being no more than a very fast dash straight at me, but the flying pastries are another matter altogether.
Tears well in my eyes at the sight of perfectly good pastries being wasted.
Leaping to evade a buffalo causes him to butt heads with another, a solid cracking sound reverberating as a result. In the midst of a summersault, I snap my mouth wide open and snag a whole pie in one bite. My eyes light up in delight as the pastry melts in my mouth, leaving a moist, sweet, yet slightly tart apple filling on the top of my tongue. There's just the right hint of cinnamon in the filling as well.
Another pie barrage approaches my position in a tight but wide spread. The buffalo charge at me en masse, again with decent speed, but in a straight line. Vaulting over the lead buffalo, I land on the head of another in the middle of the pack and use the violent head toss to launch into the air into the oncoming pies.
I guzzle the first pie in the barrage - good food like this belongs in my stomach - the rest within reach I snatch, stacking as many as I can on one fore hoof. To my dismay, my flight through the air only allows me to save about a dozen or so pies, the rest flying past me into the charging buffalo.
The pies hit the buffalo as I reach the apex of my leap, with absurd results. A few buffalo are hit right in the face and seem to be stunned for the count, falling over, and ploughing into the ground. Others are hit in the flanks and end up veering off to the sides, through the barricades and coming to a stop as they smash into the sides of buildings.
As I land, I drop an axe kick on the head on another buffalo, causing eyes to cross comically as the head is driven into the dirt as forelegs give way. At the same time, I catch another two pies, one with my mouth, which I devour, the other with my free hoof, which I add to my stack. With my free fore hoof, I vault over my next assailant, hoof standing on his head and distracting him long enough that he collides head first into a building. The resultant damage from the impact is respectable - spiderweb like cracks propagate up and down the side of the building - a back kick to the rump causes the buffalo's head to impact a second time, knocking him out for the count. This renders the wall into fragments, exposing the interior like a cracked egg.
A quick glance inside reveals a queen sized bed covered by a bed sheet with an apple and apple pie pattern. Smirking, I grab the bed sheet and place my pies inside. I quickly fold the four corners of the bed sheet together so I can carry it on my back and fall into one of my old mans special techniques, the umi sen ken.
The horses look around confused, stopping their pie barrage as I disappear from their sight, but the buffalo aren't so easily deterred - they continue trampling around the town looking for me. I approach the horses - they are scouring the area with their eyes,ears swivelling, noses taking deep sniffs...
"He's here! I kin smell 'im and me ol' bones a'rattlin!" screams a wrinkled old mare, setting off a panic as the horses renew their pie barrage, this time carpet bombing the area in an attempt to flush me out.
To counter, I use the go shin dai ryu sei fu technique, increasing my speed yet maintaining my stealth. I dart from barricade to barricade, offering a mere glimpse of my position as I deprive the horses of their ammunition, filling the bed sheet on my back to the brim with pies. Pies are still tragically lost, as some of the horses have quick reactions and start throwing them as they see me grabbing pies. Some friendly fire results and a few are staggered as a pie lands on their face, almost making me laugh and lose my hold on the technique.
The soil around the horses has been loosened from my darting around. If I wished, I could bury them all with the final umi sen ken technique, but I decide against it as none of them seem to be true fighters and they've so kindly provided me with food.
Instead, I take to the roof tops, pie laden bed sheet on my back and jump to the top of the clock tower. With the size of the bundle on my back, the thought of yelling, "What a haul! What a haul!" crosses my mind as I roof hop from building to building, angry buffalo and horses in pursuit on the streets below.
Spying a carriage, I place the bundle inside, then face my pursuers, buffalo and horse alike. I gather my ki, breaking out a visible battle aura, the glow stopping the mob in its tracks.
"Saotome Ultimate Technique!" I shout as my muscles tense into tightened steel coils, and the ground I stand on cracks. "Fast break!"
I leap backwards, landing between the shafts of the carriage, slip into the harness, and sprint out of town, a cloud of dust left in my wake. Glancing behind brings a chuckle to my throat as I see the whole town frozen in place, mouths slack jawed for a few seconds, before they all simultaneously realise I'm making my escape and start their pursuit.
Galloping along, carriage in tow, proves challenging as the ground undulates and I take care to avoid tipping the carriage. Ominous rumbles behind urge me onwards - if I was unencumbered, my pursuers would have no chance - but I feel reticent about leaving my cargo.
I grit my teeth and pull harder, the carriage jostling and careening from side to side. The unrelenting sounds of hooves striking earth hard behind spur me onwards. My eyes narrow as a ravine draws near, sheer cliffs warning of a precipitous fall. Determinedly, I push more ki into my legs as I reach the edge of the ravine and jump.
I soar over the ravine in a graceful arc, the carriage groaning in protest at the abuse, and land on the other side. My graceful landing is momentary - the carriage lands short with the rear axle off the edge - as it tumbles downwards into the ravine it drags me as well. I skitter around, struggling to find purchase, but manage to drag the carriage off the precipice.
I continue my gallop with every intention to leave my pursuers behind, looking back to see whether the ravine thins out my pursuers. The first of the horses and buffalos reach the ravine and baulk at the length of the jump, skidding to a halt at the edge. Unfortunately for them, others behind fail to see the ravine and charge into them at full speed, pushing them over.
Bedlam ensues.
A quarter of my pursuers manage to stop short of the ravine, more than half end up either running over the edge or are pushed over, the remainder attempt the jump and fail. The sounds of bodies hitting water clears my conscience of guilt from causing mass injury.
Only one pursuer remains.
A lone figure leaps from the herd, soars high over the ravine, flipping over three times as it clears the ravine easily, doggedly maintaining the chase.
The carriage proves to be a greater encumbrance after the jump. The rear wheels are fluttering, turning into a great drag on my speed and allows my lone pursuer to gradually close up over the next minute.
A small ochre coloured buffalo leaps onto the roof of the carriage, glares at me for a moment, then jumps, rear hoof extended towards my head. I counter at the last moment, turning head down and bucking with my rear hooves, knocking my assailant back against the front of the carriage.
The next moment, I feel the carriage hit a bump - looking back, I see that the carriage has run over my last assailant, the hot sun beating down on the unconscious body. Unwilling to risk the ire of the crowd following me, I regretfully push myself onwards, hoping that help will soon arrive.
I maintain my bearing, tolerating the heat of the sun, and continue my gallop for another hour, when a cry from inside the carriage stops me dead in my tracks. Peering inside the carriage causes me to put a hoof to my face and shake my head,
Along with my bundle of pies is a baby foal with a horn on its head, crying for attention.
My nose wrinkles at the smell in the carriage - strangely enough, the foal is wearing a diaper. Looking more closely inside, I find a saddlebag with a green apple embossed on the side. One side of the bag seems to be designed to hold the foal, the other contains baby supplies.
I spend the next few minutes working out how to change a diaper on a foal. The little orange bub wriggles and twists the whole time, making my task frustrating. Somehow I manage to get her clean, but the cloth nappy proves to be a problem. Giving up in the end, I tie it around the foal in a manner similar to the loin cloth on a sumo wrestler. The milk formula proves simple to mix and putting the bottle in her mouth quietens her down.
The trek continues till late in the afternoon, when I reach another ravine, this one too wide for me to jump. Down at the bottom flows a small river. A few small cave entrances are visible around the ravine walls, which seem to be traversable by foot.
I unhitch myself from the carriage, ensuring the doors are secure and that the foal is asleep. I trek down and examine the caves, finding one adequate, being sufficiently deep and hidden by shrubs that I feel comfortable with resting in it for a while.
I make two trips back to the carriage, the first to gather the bundle of pies, the second for the foal. Slipping on the saddlebag, I gently place the foal in the carrier, happy to see she stays asleep. I then kick the carriage so that it falls into the river at the bottom of the ravine. It smashes into pieces, and the current from the river carries the majority of it downstream.
Feeling parched, I climb down to the river and sate my thirst, at the same time, I clean the baby bottle, and fill my kettle. Remembering the times Kasumi baby sat for a neighbour, I gather some wood, light a fire and boil the water, placing the baby bottle inside to sterilise it.
Satisfied the bottle is clean, I boil some more water and refill the baby's thermos for later then return to the cave. I open my bundle of pies and eat my fill till my stomach is bloated, then lie down in a curled position for a nap, the foal nestled in the saddle bag.
My slumber is soon interrupted by the mewing of the foal. Once again, my attempt at child care ends up somewhat lacking - I manage better with the bottle but the nappy still ends up looking like something belonging on a sumo wrestler.
I clearly have to return the foal back to the town. I wait till nightfall before commencing my trek back. When the sun sets and the moon rises, I once again feel a ripple through my body as I turn into a mare. A look of puzzlement becomes etched on the face of the foal - when I make some soothing noises, she then points between my legs.
Heat rises from my cheeks when I realise what she wants.
Shaking my head and saying no brings on a bout of strident cries that threatens to bring on a migraine. I quickly make another bottle of milk and shove it in the foals mouth, thankfully quietening her down. Looking in the saddlebag, I realise the last of her formula has been used up, and there's no way I'm offering to be on tap to feed her. The quicker I can return my accidental companion, the better.
The moonlight provides enough light that I get my bearings. Without the carriage, I travel far more quickly, but I take a more circuitous route to avoid any pursuers. Thankfully, the rhythm of my galloping lulls the foal asleep and keeps her that way.
The journey back to the town takes me the best part of the night, with dawn threatening to break just as I arrive. I keep to the shadows in the moonlit town, thankful that the whole town is asleep, looking for a suitable doorstep to leave the foal. One building stands out with its white painted walls, and a red cross painted over the top. Assuming this one is a hospital of sorts, I skulk towards it.
The moon sets.
The sun rises.
I feel my body change, and the foal wakes up, and stares at me, momentarily confused.
Her lips break into a pout, and her eyes squeeze shut as her horn lights up.
A keening wail of "Maaaa-maaaaaaa!" from the foal threatens to burst my eardrums, and I find the foal and I bathed in an orange glow, levitating upwards. A moment later, a flying grey winged horse collides into us midair, knocking the foal and I back to the ground. The mare looks apologetically at me with her golden crossed eyes, and as she opens her mouth to say something, a large bell falls from the cart she is towing.
Still dazed from the fall, the best I manage is nudging the foal clear before the bell falls on my head, causing a resonant bonging sound. As I black out, a flight of white winged horses in golden armour approach.
Wind rustling the hair on my head rouses me back to consciousness. A muzzle has been placed over my snout, and chains are wrapped around my body and legs - I'm trussed up like a mummy. Feeling stiff, I attempt to shift around, but the only movement I can manage is my head, and around my ankles. My slight movement is rewarded with the shaky point of a spear in my face, wielded by a visibly sweating guard. Resigning myself to some minor discomfort, I settle myself down as best as I can.
Effectively gagged by the muzzle, I can only make noises of annoyance, but think the wiser of it when the first sound I make is rewarded with a sharp jab of the spear.
Looking around, I realise I'm flying in a chariot pulled by the armoured flying horses, up above the clouds. The sun is in a mid-afternoon position, shining behind a stack of large fluffy clouds with rainbows cascading through them.
Ahead of us is a sight that rivals anything else I've seen before, taller than Kirin's castle, and more imposing than Jusendo. We approach a shining ivory castle perched upon the side of a mountain, golden spires gleaming atop spindly towers, impressing its presence on the valley below like a guardian. The architecture of the castle reminds me of the palace in that western cartoon with the blue genie that Akane seems to like.
I never got the point of that movie. Every djinn or spirit I've ever come across has been trouble.
The chariot rounds the castle in a broad loop twice before another winged horse joins us and leads us down to land on a large circular platform. Upon landing, a trolley is wheeled out, and I am unceremoniously dumped and secured against it.
The guards wheel me through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. The grandeur and scale of this place dwarves all the others from my previous adventures. Each passage way we go through have high vaulted ceilings propped up by ornate columns. Rich tapestries hang on the walls between stained glass windows, themed with the sun and moon.
Finally, we arrive at a set of heavy, intricately, decorated double doors which slam open at our approach. A white horned horse looks at me disparagingly as he walks past, head held up so high that it reminds me of Kuno with his bokken.
I'm pushed through the doors, into a throne room which looks somewhat familiar. The guards leave me in the trolley on the red carpet, close to the dais, and I feel as though I'm one of the insane asylum inmates from the movies Nabiki likes.
A tall, elegant, winged horse, wearing a golden crown atop a horned head approaches. A single nod from her head has the guards leaving us, the doors of the throne room slamming shut with ominous echoes reverberating.
A golden aura surrounds her horn, and the muzzle on my head falls to the ground.
I voice my protest at my treatment immediately, "Let me go, you freaky circus animal!"
I'm about to open my mouth to continue my tirade when her horn lights again, this time the aura encases my muzzle and clamps my mouth shut.
A stern visage mixed with disappointment crosses the face of the white mare as she replies to me in perfect Japanese.
"You've been a troublesome stallion, my little consort."