|The Wandering Stranger
Author: Abdiel PM
A good example of first fic syndrome. To be quite frank, this fic is probably one of the reasons I never wrote a Ranma fanfic ever again.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Parody - Words: 800 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 04-14-03 - Status: Complete - id: 1305471
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The Wandering Stranger
A Ranma ½ spamfic
by Chester Castañeda
Disclaimer: Ranma ½ is not mine but the property of Rumiko Takahashi and various other companies. The Wandering Stranger is on his own, whether he likes it or not.
I just picked this one up from the FFML mini-archive. I was quite the uniquely bad writer back then.
It was a foreboding sight. Dark clouds loomed ominously as only ominously-looking dark clouds could. Rain pelted like silver bullets exploding impact after impact… over and over.
Cold rain poured over The Wandering Stranger's wet black hat, as cold rain tended to do on a hat. Wearing a trench coat reminiscent of a certain computer-inspired foreign film franchise, The Wandering Stranger had a form reminiscent of a Jewish priest. He grinned his toothy little grin right under his hat, hiding the eyes for the right effect. His incredibly powerful Dai Mugen Ryu technique, a technique so brutal only one man can be trusted with its full power, etcetera, etcetera… which could level the universe, parallel worlds, and could get rid of household lint in one brusque stroke, would do well in the forthcoming events. Yes, a truly manly technique, Nodoka Saotome would say.
It was all-in-all good, since said Wandering Stranger was four feet tall and had the build of an emaciated Gosunkugi… which, in effect, was a redundant redundancy.
He kept on grinning, managing to look as frightening as only a looming diminutive Jewish priest-like person could. He waited.
He waited still.
And still he waited, amidst the screeching of a stray cat.
Actually, "Damned cat intestines", but no matter… His hour of reckoning — to regain his honor in the eyes of the Council of Dai Mugen Ryu — beckoned him to move on; or in this case, to stay put amidst the numbing rain, with a frog crawling from under his coat.
A croaking sound and a sickening splatter soon followed.
All was well.
After two hours and a half… and a splattered cat, dog, some mice, frogs — there was another one, just right below the left sock — and a horse, he finally arrived. With the grace and skillfulness of a swan wearing Chinese shoes, the apparition descended from the rooftops towards the top of a wall directly facing the Wandering Stranger.
So there he was: Ranma Saotome.
The diminutive Jewish Pri— The Wandering Stranger merely grinned his feral grin in acknowledgement of the boy, showing canines a hyena could be proud of. He carefully studied the young specimen of manhood in his decisively Chinese garb, with his slim figure, his fiery-red hair, his wet white shirt, his voluptuous chest… It would be a short fight for such a one as skilled as a master of Dai Mugen Ryu.
There was something to be known about The Wandering Stranger.
He had killed countless in his wake, and soon his countenance had become absolute apathy. He was truly dead, with no will nor regret. He was a person trapped in a never-ending nightmare, cursed never to wake up. He'd lost all consideration of life's significance as he consumed vivacity like a cigarette, in slow puffs. He was as dead as he truly thought he was, in mind and body.
And that would have made for a nice back-story too… except he wasn't at all anything like that.
The Wandering Stranger, A.K.A. Akira "Chibi" Miki, who had been studying the art of Dai Mugen Ryu for a long, long time, had certain issues about himself. Actually, he had a self-esteem problem regarding his being "chibi." It was hard for a four-foot-tall, frail-looking thing like him to earn respect nowadays. But it was not even about that. He was "chibi" in every way possible. So without further elaboration, he had this issue with girls and such, making him as super-shy around femmes as Ryoga Hibiki. That was why he learned the Dai Mugen Ryu. He would beat the living crap out of anyone who didn't give him due respect and deference. He would be a hit with the girls… He'd show them that he could be big in other ways.
It was a hellish site indeed. As the rain poured, so did the blood. There was a splattered pool of crimson, gratuitously pouring into the pavement amidst the unforgiving deluge. It continued to slowly grow from a steadily gushing source.
Ranma Saotome merely shrugged and went her way as the diminutive Jewish Priest look-alike had a severe case of nosebleed.
Author's Notes: I was bored. I just finished Kenko's Girl Days. Here's the end result. And that is my note.