Tangled Up In Purple

by Crescent Pulsar

Chapter 5: Language Barrier

Ranma hadn't expected anything special when he entered the tree building, so he was surprised to see that pink horse, who kept gasping and running away from him, standing on a stool while in the middle of taping strips of crepe paper across the tops of the bookcases. There were other decorations already in place as well, of the type that suggested that she was preparing for a party of some kind.

She went still and stared at him. He stared back.

A second later, he found himself being turned about and pushed through the doorway before hearing the door slam closed behind him.

He stood on the doorstep for a moment, blinking his eyes in bewilderment, before frowning and turning to face the door. When he opened it and attempted to enter again, party poppers went off in front of his face, causing him to yelp in surprise and fall onto his back. An instant later, while he was being showered by confetti and streamers, the door was slammed shut.

Hopping back onto his feet, he narrowed his eyes and stepped up to the door, wanting into the building more for the challenge than the original reason. However, when he tried to open the door, it wouldn't budge. His first response to that discovery was to vigorously knock on the door.

"Ain't nobody here but me!" Came the response, which he didn't fully understand.

Undeterred, he backed away and looked for another way to enter the building. There were a ton of windows, but it would be easy for him to be noticed if he used any on the ground floor, assuming that the pink horse had no business elsewhere. There was a balcony on the second floor that looked promising, so he lifted himself with magic despite the pang it elicited from his horn, since it would be quieter than landing on hooves from a jump.

Thinking that he'd make too much noise trying to open the balcony doors with one or both hooves, he used magic instead. Then, with him still being mindful of his hooves, he moved slowly and stepped softly, because he wanted the element of surprise when he confronted the pink horse. When he came to the stairway leading down, he paused before continuing, being a little more careful because it was his first time descending stairs on four legs.

He was just beginning to see into the main room of the ground floor when a step creaked under his leading hoof. He stiffened and immediately felt sure that someone was behind him before he noticed the shadow rising up and blanketing him. Slowly turning his head, he saw the pink horse looming over him, wearing a black skull cap and a white, sleeveless shirt, with intense, white eyes being the only feature of her face that could be seen in the gloom that enveloped her somehow.

"I must protect this house!" She bellowed.

He shrieked like a little girl, and while his mouth was open she stuffed a cupcake into it. It tasted so good, despite being unbelievably sweet, that he couldn't help eating and swallowing it.

The next thing that he knew, he was waking up outside, a good distance from the building. Once the grogginess and confusion faded, he jumped to his feet and angrily stomped toward the door, tired of being hindered from checking out the books. Surely he could stay out of the pink horse's way while they did whatever they were doing, and it wasn't like there was a "closed" sign to keep anyone away, so what was the issue?

Deciding to make a show of force this time, to dissuade further obstruction, he turned about and tried to buck the door open. His hooves hit with a resounding bang, but the door remained shut. He briefly held that position, with his rear hooves against the door, then stiffly collapsed onto his side before curling up while tears streamed from his clenched-shut eyes.

While he waited for the pain in his hind legs to subside to a more bearable level, he wondered why the amount of power behind his buck hadn't been enough to force the door open. At first he thought that the door might have been more secure than expected, but it occurred to him that he wouldn't have suffered so much pain unless he had used a lot more strength. However, since that much strength would have — in all likelihood — obliterated the door, it seemed more likely that he had kicked without his legs enhanced with ki.

Which was a troubling — yet not surprising — thought, given the circumstances. It would certainly explain his poor landing when he had jumped from the chariot earlier. That meant that he would have to rely on magic until he was either out of the book or human again. The question was: could magic fill in for ki and perform any of the same jobs? In particular, would it grant him enough strength to force a door open?

Once he felt good enough to stand, he did so and tried to envelop the door in magic and move one side as hard as he could. Unfortunately, the effort very quickly made his horn hurt too much to concentrate properly, so he had to abort that method. After some consideration, while rubbing the base of his horn to soothe it, he decided to try to enhance his body with magic, like he normally would with ki.

The problem was that magic, or at least this magic, wanted to go places when stimulated, not stay in the body. He wouldn't be surprised if it could teleport him, if given a chance. It was sort of the opposite of how ki worked, which didn't want to move, and that made him wonder if using an emotion could act as an anchor for magic, like it did a sail for ki, so enough would stick around to enhance his body.

Fortunately for him, he had plenty to be unhappy about, between getting sucked into a book, being deprived of his familiar ki, and denied the ability to check for the availability of a book that he might need in order to return home. So, he closed his eyes and channeled anger. At the same time, he focused on his magic without giving it any direction.

He felt his magic and anger interact, which made him feel hot, both inside and out, but not unbearably so. He could sense that his magic still radiated out from his body, but not far, and seemed to be interacting with his mane, tail and coat in some way. More importantly, however, he couldn't tell if he was any stronger while his magic was in this state.

Opening his eyes, he crossed them for a few seconds upon noticing that his muzzle was white instead of purple. Not wanting to get too distracted and have his anger fizzle out, he forced his attention on the door and ignored how the environment around him faintly flickered in the daylight, as if there were a bonfire nearby. He marched up to it, faced away from it, made a silent prayer to ward off another painful outcome, then bucked.

The door exploded into fiery fragments and pelted a wooden bust of a horse, the table it was on, and the bookshelves behind them, damaging them beyond repair and setting them on fire. He barely had time to appreciate the result before he was hit with a wave of exhaustion and lightheadedness, apparently having overexerted himself with the feat after levitating his body around for so long earlier.

He stumbled and collapsed before losing consciousness.

Comments

[Squishtopher]

I love the way magic is treated in this story. Like it's actually written by someone who practices Martial Arts.

[The Sixth Child]

Slowly turning his head, he saw the pink horse looming over him, wearing a black skull cap and a white, sleeveless shirt, with intense, white eyes being the only feature of her face that could be seen in the gloom that enveloped her somehow.

"I must protect this house!" She bellowed.

Really?