Jaynin
4th Level Red Feather
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Ranma 1/2: The Martial Arts Tickling Tournament: Interlude
This story was done at the request (and under the direct observation) of the ATF's Akimia Hoshino. >_> That means this is the one with the /m.
“Ok, I got to the semifinals,” Ranma said with a quick moment of self-congratulation as they were allowed fifteen minutes for a quick break and especially for Shampoo, a drink of water.
“Shampoo still win even with big stupid Mousse doing sabotage to her,” Shampoo said confidently, toweling off and enjoying a bottle of water.
“Ranma honey, you still don’t stand a chance, “ Ukyo said with a wink. “My special okonomiyaki recipe will bring me victory for sure!”
Akane didn’t say anything but instead concentrated on the battle ahead. Suddenly, a squeal caught her attention. “Huh? P-chan?” Akane asked excitedly. Sure enough, the little black pig was sitting on the stool next to Ranma, watching him dress.
“What do you want?” Ranma sneered, then yelped as P-chan bit him in the rear and ran off. “Hey! Come back here you filthy little - !” Ranma gave chase to P-chan, yelling all the way.
P-chan ran out of the room and around the corner, leading Ranma to a quiet little alley near the back of the proceedings. “Why you little – once I get my hands on you I’ll – Mousse?” Ranma cried, skidding to a complete stop, as Mousse laid the teakettle on a nearby crate and faced Ranma.
“Ranma, we both know that the winner of this tournament is going to date you,” Mousse said quietly. “So Ryoga and I have agreed to a temporary truce, and to cooperate to make you the winner.”
“Cooperate to make me the winner?” Ranma said cockily. “Well, thanks guys, but I don’t need any help from you two. The next round is going to begin soon. Well, I’ll see you later!” Ranma winked and headed off.
“Why that – “ Ryoga began, before Mousse stopped him.
“Ryoga, let me ask – are you ticklish?”
Ryoga blinked. “Well, yeah, but why?”
“You realize that after we sabotage Akane and Shampoo that they’re going to come after us,” Mousse said, recalling his earlier experience with the Amazon woman. “We need to train ourselves to resist it.”
“Oh, I get it,” Ryoga said, squirming a little. The thought of Akane coming after him, ready to tickle, made him shiver a bit. “Well… um…” Mousse’s left hand shot out, and a chain wrapped Ryoga from head to toe. “Hey – what?”
“This is for our own good, Ryoga,” Mousse said. He knelt to where Ryoga was struggling on the ground, and began to poke him gently in the sides.
“Hey – eheehehheheheheh cut that out! Mousse!” Ryoga cried, giggling. “Hhahhaahahahaah! Hey!” Ryoga began to squirm on the ground as Mousse’s fingers deftly worked around the links of the chain wrapped around Ryoga’s body. He was just testing for the moment – a quick wiggle at the sides, then at the base of the hips and around to his belly, up to his lower ribs and underarms, then back down his sides in a spiderwalk. “AhahahahaHHAahahahah!! Mousse!!! EhehehEHEHEHEEEEHHEHE!!!! AHAhaahhhahahahahAAA!!!!!!” Ryoga wriggled and squirmed, trying with all his might to burst the chains, and was surprised when he couldn’t.
“Ryoga, I know that normally your strength would let you break these chains,” Mousse said conversationally, deciding to start for real on Ryoga’s belly. “But the way you’re pinned, it takes away all the leverage you’ve got. You could be ten times stronger than you are and still not be able to burst them.”
“Gyahahahahahhaahahaha!!!” Ryoga didn’t answer as Mousse’s fingers sought his belly, occasionally dipping into his bellybutton for a quick and hard wiggle. “GHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH!!”
“Oh, is the piggy ticklish in his bellybutton?” Mousse teased quickly.
“Sh-sh-shahahaahahahaahahahahah shut up!!!” Ryoga yelled, hoping that maybe if he made enough noise someone would notice. Not likely – the faint sounds of the microphone were heard booming over the competition grounds, and the crowd cheered.
“Now if you say that to Akane when she gets you, are you going to be in any better shape?” Mousse lectured, running small circles under Ryoga’s arms. “No, she’d just do something like this!” Mousse suddenly dug into Ryoga’s underarms, causing a shriek of laughter and big hop and squirm.
“Ghahahahahahhaha!!! HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! AHAHAHAA!!! NO NOT THERE!!!” Ryoga begged as Mousse moved his hands down to Ryoga’s sides and gave them a little squeeze. “DAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! AHAHAHEHEHEHEHEH!!!”
“Oh, so this is your weakness? Better remember that for when they come for you, you can prepare yourself instead of being taken by surprise like that. Now…” Mousse backed off for a moment, letting Ryoga rest for a bit.
Ryoga panted for a bit. “Are you done now?” he asked, a bit of annoyance tinging his tone. “If you are, I’d really like to get back there and make sure Akane doesn’t go on a date with Ranma.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mousse said. “She’s not in the first match so we still have some time. I think that we can still train some more – “
“Train?” Ryoga asked incredulously. “You call this training?”
“Well, yes. Can you think of any better way to train for this? I mean, would you like to go in cold and let the pair of them find out for themselves? Hmm?”
“Well… no…” Ryoga muttered, trapped by Mousse’s logic. “Well, ok then. We can go for a little while longer. But we have to make sure to get back in time for Akane’s match, all right?”
“We will,” Mousse assured him, unwrapping the chain from Ryoga’s body and helping him to stand up. “Now then, are you rea – hey, Ryoga, what are you looking at me like that for?”
“Well, didn’t you say that Shampoo was going to come after you too?” Ryoga asked, wearing that familiar toothy grin of his. “I’d say that you need some training as well, Mousse.”
“M-me? But hey! I already got tortured once already! Isn’t that enough?” he asked, backing away and waving his hands frantically, the chain he had been busy storing back in his sleeves now dangling out and trailing on the ground. Ryoga grabbed the chain and yanked it out, then swung it around like a lasso.
“I don’t think so. You see, I know that Akane, even if she’s angry, won’t be too harsh on me. Shampoo, on the other hand… well…” Ryoga grinned.
Mousse knew all too well what he meant. Already in his mind a scene flashed – Mousse, you big stupid, Shampoo get you now! – and he shuddered. “Well… ah… um… I dunno… maybe – GAK!”
“Too late, duck boy,” Ryoga said, snaring Mousse around the waist with the chain, pinning his arms to his sides. Mousse did a little dance on impotence as Ryoga hauled him in. “Now, the important part.” Taking the sleeve of his robe and giving a little tug, Ryoga dumped his shirt onto the ground and the various accessories that were inside of it. Normally, it was an assortment of generally sharp and unpleasant things, but today it was more like a collection of manacles, feathers, brushes, the whole nine yards. Mousse looked uncertainly at the pile of things on the ground.
“Uh-uhm, you’re not going to use any of those things, are you? Ryoga?” Mousse asked, shaking his head frantically. Ryoga looked contemplatively at the pile of things. “Come on! I was nice to you! I didn’t use any of them on you! It’s no fair to use my own things against me! It’s – “
“Put a sock in it!” Ryoga growled. “Now look. You said yourself the best way to condition ourselves is to be intense, correct? Well, I’m going to give you the best conditioning ever…” Ryoga picked up a feather and a brush, and some manacles. After a minor struggle with Mousse that was solved by the removal of his glasses, Ryoga had manacled his wrists above his head and looped the short chain over a gutter in the storage shed they were behind. This position forced Mousse to stand on tiptoe with his arms stretched over his head.
“Hey! This is so unfair!” Mousse cried. “Won’t anyone help me? Sh-Shampoo!!!!”
“Your complaining tires me,” Ryoga said. “It’s time to begin.” Twirling a feather in his left hand and holding it like a knife, he moved in, beginning with a slow, gentle sweep from underarm to side, tracing down to his belly and ending with the feathertip in Mousse’s bellybutton.
“HEeheeheheeheheheheh!!! Stop thahahahat! Hey! HAhahaahahhaah no fair!!!” Mousse cried, doing a wiggly little dance as he tried to avoid the feather, looking rather like a worm on a hook, gyrating his upper body with little success. Ryoga grinned.
“You need this training far more than I do,” Ryoga said. “I’m doing you a favor. Maybe you’ll survive Shampoo’s wrath… then again, by what that little witch can cook up, you might be better migrating south for the winter.”
“Hey! Shut up about – thahahahahahahahahahaaht!!!!!!” Mousse wiggled again as Ryoga brushed the feather down his other side, simultaneously tracing along his ribs using fingers as he did so. This had the effect of making Mousse try to wiggle in two directions at once, and merely ended up dancing on his toes, looking rather like a ballerina. “HehehhEHEHeHEH!!! STOP!!! Ahahahahahahahah!!!!! Hey!!! R-Ryogahahahaaaaa!!!!!”
“You’re quite the whiner, aren’t you?” Ryoga asked exasperatedly. “This was your idea, remember? What did Shampoo do to you?”
“Uhm…” Mousse had to think back, and now that he did, even Shampoo’s brief treatment had been a rather convincing punishment. If she got her hands on him again, he might be doomed – especially so since she had tickled him after winning. If she lost… “G-go on.”
“Good man,” Ryoga said. “No pain, no gain – though I suppose in this case it’s no giggle, no gain, but… in any case, let’s continue.” Ryoga put the feather aside for now, picked up a brush, and knelt at Mousse’s feet. Quickly he had removed a shoe. With Mousse’s position on tiptoe, the arch of his foot was flexed rather nicely, Ryoga thought. He ran the hairbrush on a quick stroke up Mousse’s sole.
“GYUAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAH!!!” Mousse shrieked, jumping off of his feet and flailing his legs around, kicking Ryoga square in the face and sending him skidding back on his rear.
“Hey! Watch it!” Ryoga growled.
“I-I’m sorry! But it’s just that… I’m too ticklish there!!” Mousse complained. “Don’t do that!”
Ryoga rolled his eyes. “Will you at least be consistent?” he growled, brandishing the brush again. “Now let me see what I can do to you – hold still!” Rummaging through the pile of discarded tools, Ryoga found a nice ball and chain setup, and hooked Mousse’s ankle to the heavy weight, therefore preventing another such move. Ryoga looked that over, looked him over more, looked at his feet and sighed. “Ok, this isn’t working.”
Mousse let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Can you get me down from here?”
“I’m not done yet, you dolt,” Ryoga snapped. “I’m trying to think of a better position.” He looked at Mousse. “If I let you down, will you not run away?”
Mousse looked left and right hesitantly. “….I’ll stay.”
“Good.” Ryoga found the key from the pile of rubbish, removed both the weight and the manacles, and let Mousse down from his perch. Mousse rubbed his wrists a little and stretched to work out the kinks. “Now… let me see… too much to ask for a pair of portable stocks…”
“I’m still working on those,” Mousse said, picking up his glasses and giving them a quick polish, then letting them rest on his forehead. “They’re not easy to make so small.”
“Then how come you can hide a time bomb up your sleeves?” Ryoga asked instead, coming back with a different contraption. “Let’s see if I can make this work…”
A short time later, Mousse was in Ryoga’s ramshackle contraption, consisting of the weights all linked together to a short piece of pipe to which Mousse’s ankles were bound, and he rested it on the ground. “It looks very ugly,” Mousse opined. “Do you think it will work?”
“I don’t know. Can you move?” Ryoga asked, as he finished wrapping the last length of chain around his ankles, binding them to the pipe. Finishing that, he set the pipe on a pair of cinderblocks, raising it off the ground a little bit. Mousse tried to move, but it was like the leg lift from hell: they weren’t going anywhere.
“Not at all,” Mousse said. “Um… aren’t you going to tie my hands?”
“Are you going to move?” Ryoga asked, trying to cover the fact that he had completely forgotten about that.
“Well of course I’m going to move you idiot,” Mousse snarled back. “No, you’re going to tickle me with hairbrushes and I’m going to stay still? Sometimes you are as thick as a rock.”
“Hey! You be quiet!” Ryoga snarled, running the brush over Mousse’s bare left sole.
“GYEEEEEK!!!! EHHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!” Mousse shrieked, totally caught off guard by the move. “Hey! I wasn’t ready!”
“And I care because?” Ryoga replied, picking up a second brush and stroking them in tandem, from heel to toes and back again, applying very little pressure. Mousse’s arms flailed like limp noodles as he rocked back and forth.
“GyahahhaahAHAHahahahAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAHH!!!! HEHEHEHEHEHHEEHHHEHE!!!” Mousse tried to sit up and reach for the makeshift stocks, but at the angle at which he was sitting plus the general lack of coordination of his movements precluded his escape. “GHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! HEY! NO!!!” Ryoga had decided that his toes were to be the next target and humming peacefully to himself, ran the brushes over each toe individually, ditching the other brush to hold his toes and devote full attention to each one individually.
Ryoga was about to make comments about piggies before he remembered his current state of…cursed-ness, so he decided that piggies were not something to be discussed at the moment. So instead he put down the large hairbrush and took up a small paintbrush of the kind used by painters for getting into small areas. Turned sideways, it was an almost perfect fit between Mousse’s toes. “Ready or not… here I come!!!!”
“Wha-AHHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!!! HEEEEHHEH!! HEEEEE!! EEEK! EHEHEHAHAHHAHAAHAH GHAAHAHAHAHAHE HEELELELEEEEP!!!!! HELP!!! MEHEHEHEHEHEHEEH!!! GHAHAHAHAHAH!!!” Mousse’s long hair was turning damp and stringy from all the sweat that broke out on his brow. Ryoga seemed to ignore that and continue.
“There won’t be any help!” Ryoga said forcefully, cocking an ear and listening to the faint voice of the MC back at the tournament. “No one is going to be looking for us. They’ll be paying attention to the show onstage.” Ryoga stopped to let Mousse breathe for a moment.
“B-but what if someone sees us? What will they say?” Mousse asked, looking around.
“We’re in the back of an alley. No one will – “
“OH MY GOD!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!” The shrill scream from the women’s dressing room made both Ryoga’s and Mousse’s hearts jump to their throats. Then they heard the familiar rant:
“What a haul, what a haul!” And they both breathed a sigh of relief as Happosai bounded away with his latest haul of women’s underwear.
“Strange man…” Ryoga muttered. “Do you ever wonder why he seems to take the ones from dressing rooms and gyms? Aren’t they the ones that haven’t been washed?”
Mousse only shrugged. “It’s his perversion… let him deal with it.”
“Master! Please!” the faint voices of Soun and Genma protested, moving away…
“Enough of that,” Ryoga said, putting his brush down and cracking his knuckles. “It’s time to finish this.” And with a quick, sudden, and completely unexpected movement, he commenced spiderwalking his fingers up and down Mousse’s feet.
Mousse went into a torrent of laughter. He whipped his head about, laughing like a banshee, tossing his head so violently that his glasses flew off and landed against a crate somewhere. The stocks rattled and banged, the cinderblocks creaked as his frantic gyrations shook even the considerable weight of the iron balls. Ryoga shut his ears to the incredibly loud laughter and went on with his duty.
“GHAHAHAHAHAEEHAHAHAHAHHAA AHHAAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHA HEHEHEEHE!!! HEHEHEHAHAHHA! NO NO NOAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HEEHHEEHHEH ST—STAHHHAHAAAAPIT!!!!!!! PLEHEHEHEHEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEZE!!!!”
Ryoga kept this up for only a few more minutes before letting Mousse breathe again. “Heh…eehehee…hee….phew,” Mousse panted, letting out a small sigh of relief.
Ryoga looked him over. “I think you’ve gotten used to that.” Deftly he leapt over to Mousse, and holding both his wrists with a hand, moved them up overhead and held them there. This gave him more or less free reign over Mousse’s upper body, and he used this well, experimenting again with such spots as the sides, ribs, belly and underarms. Mousse seemingly had a couple of scratches on his upper body. Must be from all that cutlery he carries in his shirt, Ryoga mused. With a shrug of dismissal, he commenced spidering his fingers in a pattern, starting at left underarm, coming down his sides to just over the hip, then coming up to the belly, lingering at the navel for a moment before going up the ribs in a zig-zag pattern ending at his right underarm, which then went down his right side before crossing back up to his left underarm again and repeating.
Mousse was nearly spent with laughter, and when he began to get a bit hoarse, Ryoga finally stopped for good and let the Chinese boy take a breather, and unwrapped his feet from the stocks. “Phew…. Heeh….heh…. ah…. Phew.” Mousse concluded, getting his glasses, shoes and robe, and beginning to dress again.
Mousse considered something as he dressed. It hadn’t been TOO bad… aside from the fact that Ryoga had been fairly merciless… in fact… was it…?
Ryoga looked at Mousse, and caught the odd look Mousse was giving him. Ryoga had the strange feeling that the same look was on his own face, as he dealt with feelings of his own. It had been… fun… to do that to Mousse. Was it possible that Mousse thought the same thing? Ryoga shook his head. No, couldn’t be. Who could like that…? Was it even possible…?
Mousse noticed Ryoga’s own consternation. Making a huge leap of courage, he said, “Ryoga, what’s on your mind? About… what we… just did?”
“I… ah… well…” Ryoga looked around, becoming a bit flustered.
Mousse looked down the alleyway. “There’s no one coming.”
He sat down, and found the pipe again. “We have some time.”
This story was done at the request (and under the direct observation) of the ATF's Akimia Hoshino. >_> That means this is the one with the /m.
“Ok, I got to the semifinals,” Ranma said with a quick moment of self-congratulation as they were allowed fifteen minutes for a quick break and especially for Shampoo, a drink of water.
“Shampoo still win even with big stupid Mousse doing sabotage to her,” Shampoo said confidently, toweling off and enjoying a bottle of water.
“Ranma honey, you still don’t stand a chance, “ Ukyo said with a wink. “My special okonomiyaki recipe will bring me victory for sure!”
Akane didn’t say anything but instead concentrated on the battle ahead. Suddenly, a squeal caught her attention. “Huh? P-chan?” Akane asked excitedly. Sure enough, the little black pig was sitting on the stool next to Ranma, watching him dress.
“What do you want?” Ranma sneered, then yelped as P-chan bit him in the rear and ran off. “Hey! Come back here you filthy little - !” Ranma gave chase to P-chan, yelling all the way.
P-chan ran out of the room and around the corner, leading Ranma to a quiet little alley near the back of the proceedings. “Why you little – once I get my hands on you I’ll – Mousse?” Ranma cried, skidding to a complete stop, as Mousse laid the teakettle on a nearby crate and faced Ranma.
“Ranma, we both know that the winner of this tournament is going to date you,” Mousse said quietly. “So Ryoga and I have agreed to a temporary truce, and to cooperate to make you the winner.”
“Cooperate to make me the winner?” Ranma said cockily. “Well, thanks guys, but I don’t need any help from you two. The next round is going to begin soon. Well, I’ll see you later!” Ranma winked and headed off.
“Why that – “ Ryoga began, before Mousse stopped him.
“Ryoga, let me ask – are you ticklish?”
Ryoga blinked. “Well, yeah, but why?”
“You realize that after we sabotage Akane and Shampoo that they’re going to come after us,” Mousse said, recalling his earlier experience with the Amazon woman. “We need to train ourselves to resist it.”
“Oh, I get it,” Ryoga said, squirming a little. The thought of Akane coming after him, ready to tickle, made him shiver a bit. “Well… um…” Mousse’s left hand shot out, and a chain wrapped Ryoga from head to toe. “Hey – what?”
“This is for our own good, Ryoga,” Mousse said. He knelt to where Ryoga was struggling on the ground, and began to poke him gently in the sides.
“Hey – eheehehheheheheh cut that out! Mousse!” Ryoga cried, giggling. “Hhahhaahahahaah! Hey!” Ryoga began to squirm on the ground as Mousse’s fingers deftly worked around the links of the chain wrapped around Ryoga’s body. He was just testing for the moment – a quick wiggle at the sides, then at the base of the hips and around to his belly, up to his lower ribs and underarms, then back down his sides in a spiderwalk. “AhahahahaHHAahahahah!! Mousse!!! EhehehEHEHEHEEEEHHEHE!!!! AHAhaahhhahahahahAAA!!!!!!” Ryoga wriggled and squirmed, trying with all his might to burst the chains, and was surprised when he couldn’t.
“Ryoga, I know that normally your strength would let you break these chains,” Mousse said conversationally, deciding to start for real on Ryoga’s belly. “But the way you’re pinned, it takes away all the leverage you’ve got. You could be ten times stronger than you are and still not be able to burst them.”
“Gyahahahahahhaahahaha!!!” Ryoga didn’t answer as Mousse’s fingers sought his belly, occasionally dipping into his bellybutton for a quick and hard wiggle. “GHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH!!”
“Oh, is the piggy ticklish in his bellybutton?” Mousse teased quickly.
“Sh-sh-shahahaahahahaahahahahah shut up!!!” Ryoga yelled, hoping that maybe if he made enough noise someone would notice. Not likely – the faint sounds of the microphone were heard booming over the competition grounds, and the crowd cheered.
“Now if you say that to Akane when she gets you, are you going to be in any better shape?” Mousse lectured, running small circles under Ryoga’s arms. “No, she’d just do something like this!” Mousse suddenly dug into Ryoga’s underarms, causing a shriek of laughter and big hop and squirm.
“Ghahahahahahhaha!!! HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! AHAHAHAA!!! NO NOT THERE!!!” Ryoga begged as Mousse moved his hands down to Ryoga’s sides and gave them a little squeeze. “DAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! AHAHAHEHEHEHEHEH!!!”
“Oh, so this is your weakness? Better remember that for when they come for you, you can prepare yourself instead of being taken by surprise like that. Now…” Mousse backed off for a moment, letting Ryoga rest for a bit.
Ryoga panted for a bit. “Are you done now?” he asked, a bit of annoyance tinging his tone. “If you are, I’d really like to get back there and make sure Akane doesn’t go on a date with Ranma.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mousse said. “She’s not in the first match so we still have some time. I think that we can still train some more – “
“Train?” Ryoga asked incredulously. “You call this training?”
“Well, yes. Can you think of any better way to train for this? I mean, would you like to go in cold and let the pair of them find out for themselves? Hmm?”
“Well… no…” Ryoga muttered, trapped by Mousse’s logic. “Well, ok then. We can go for a little while longer. But we have to make sure to get back in time for Akane’s match, all right?”
“We will,” Mousse assured him, unwrapping the chain from Ryoga’s body and helping him to stand up. “Now then, are you rea – hey, Ryoga, what are you looking at me like that for?”
“Well, didn’t you say that Shampoo was going to come after you too?” Ryoga asked, wearing that familiar toothy grin of his. “I’d say that you need some training as well, Mousse.”
“M-me? But hey! I already got tortured once already! Isn’t that enough?” he asked, backing away and waving his hands frantically, the chain he had been busy storing back in his sleeves now dangling out and trailing on the ground. Ryoga grabbed the chain and yanked it out, then swung it around like a lasso.
“I don’t think so. You see, I know that Akane, even if she’s angry, won’t be too harsh on me. Shampoo, on the other hand… well…” Ryoga grinned.
Mousse knew all too well what he meant. Already in his mind a scene flashed – Mousse, you big stupid, Shampoo get you now! – and he shuddered. “Well… ah… um… I dunno… maybe – GAK!”
“Too late, duck boy,” Ryoga said, snaring Mousse around the waist with the chain, pinning his arms to his sides. Mousse did a little dance on impotence as Ryoga hauled him in. “Now, the important part.” Taking the sleeve of his robe and giving a little tug, Ryoga dumped his shirt onto the ground and the various accessories that were inside of it. Normally, it was an assortment of generally sharp and unpleasant things, but today it was more like a collection of manacles, feathers, brushes, the whole nine yards. Mousse looked uncertainly at the pile of things on the ground.
“Uh-uhm, you’re not going to use any of those things, are you? Ryoga?” Mousse asked, shaking his head frantically. Ryoga looked contemplatively at the pile of things. “Come on! I was nice to you! I didn’t use any of them on you! It’s no fair to use my own things against me! It’s – “
“Put a sock in it!” Ryoga growled. “Now look. You said yourself the best way to condition ourselves is to be intense, correct? Well, I’m going to give you the best conditioning ever…” Ryoga picked up a feather and a brush, and some manacles. After a minor struggle with Mousse that was solved by the removal of his glasses, Ryoga had manacled his wrists above his head and looped the short chain over a gutter in the storage shed they were behind. This position forced Mousse to stand on tiptoe with his arms stretched over his head.
“Hey! This is so unfair!” Mousse cried. “Won’t anyone help me? Sh-Shampoo!!!!”
“Your complaining tires me,” Ryoga said. “It’s time to begin.” Twirling a feather in his left hand and holding it like a knife, he moved in, beginning with a slow, gentle sweep from underarm to side, tracing down to his belly and ending with the feathertip in Mousse’s bellybutton.
“HEeheeheheeheheheheh!!! Stop thahahahat! Hey! HAhahaahahhaah no fair!!!” Mousse cried, doing a wiggly little dance as he tried to avoid the feather, looking rather like a worm on a hook, gyrating his upper body with little success. Ryoga grinned.
“You need this training far more than I do,” Ryoga said. “I’m doing you a favor. Maybe you’ll survive Shampoo’s wrath… then again, by what that little witch can cook up, you might be better migrating south for the winter.”
“Hey! Shut up about – thahahahahahahahahahaaht!!!!!!” Mousse wiggled again as Ryoga brushed the feather down his other side, simultaneously tracing along his ribs using fingers as he did so. This had the effect of making Mousse try to wiggle in two directions at once, and merely ended up dancing on his toes, looking rather like a ballerina. “HehehhEHEHeHEH!!! STOP!!! Ahahahahahahahah!!!!! Hey!!! R-Ryogahahahaaaaa!!!!!”
“You’re quite the whiner, aren’t you?” Ryoga asked exasperatedly. “This was your idea, remember? What did Shampoo do to you?”
“Uhm…” Mousse had to think back, and now that he did, even Shampoo’s brief treatment had been a rather convincing punishment. If she got her hands on him again, he might be doomed – especially so since she had tickled him after winning. If she lost… “G-go on.”
“Good man,” Ryoga said. “No pain, no gain – though I suppose in this case it’s no giggle, no gain, but… in any case, let’s continue.” Ryoga put the feather aside for now, picked up a brush, and knelt at Mousse’s feet. Quickly he had removed a shoe. With Mousse’s position on tiptoe, the arch of his foot was flexed rather nicely, Ryoga thought. He ran the hairbrush on a quick stroke up Mousse’s sole.
“GYUAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAH!!!” Mousse shrieked, jumping off of his feet and flailing his legs around, kicking Ryoga square in the face and sending him skidding back on his rear.
“Hey! Watch it!” Ryoga growled.
“I-I’m sorry! But it’s just that… I’m too ticklish there!!” Mousse complained. “Don’t do that!”
Ryoga rolled his eyes. “Will you at least be consistent?” he growled, brandishing the brush again. “Now let me see what I can do to you – hold still!” Rummaging through the pile of discarded tools, Ryoga found a nice ball and chain setup, and hooked Mousse’s ankle to the heavy weight, therefore preventing another such move. Ryoga looked that over, looked him over more, looked at his feet and sighed. “Ok, this isn’t working.”
Mousse let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Can you get me down from here?”
“I’m not done yet, you dolt,” Ryoga snapped. “I’m trying to think of a better position.” He looked at Mousse. “If I let you down, will you not run away?”
Mousse looked left and right hesitantly. “….I’ll stay.”
“Good.” Ryoga found the key from the pile of rubbish, removed both the weight and the manacles, and let Mousse down from his perch. Mousse rubbed his wrists a little and stretched to work out the kinks. “Now… let me see… too much to ask for a pair of portable stocks…”
“I’m still working on those,” Mousse said, picking up his glasses and giving them a quick polish, then letting them rest on his forehead. “They’re not easy to make so small.”
“Then how come you can hide a time bomb up your sleeves?” Ryoga asked instead, coming back with a different contraption. “Let’s see if I can make this work…”
A short time later, Mousse was in Ryoga’s ramshackle contraption, consisting of the weights all linked together to a short piece of pipe to which Mousse’s ankles were bound, and he rested it on the ground. “It looks very ugly,” Mousse opined. “Do you think it will work?”
“I don’t know. Can you move?” Ryoga asked, as he finished wrapping the last length of chain around his ankles, binding them to the pipe. Finishing that, he set the pipe on a pair of cinderblocks, raising it off the ground a little bit. Mousse tried to move, but it was like the leg lift from hell: they weren’t going anywhere.
“Not at all,” Mousse said. “Um… aren’t you going to tie my hands?”
“Are you going to move?” Ryoga asked, trying to cover the fact that he had completely forgotten about that.
“Well of course I’m going to move you idiot,” Mousse snarled back. “No, you’re going to tickle me with hairbrushes and I’m going to stay still? Sometimes you are as thick as a rock.”
“Hey! You be quiet!” Ryoga snarled, running the brush over Mousse’s bare left sole.
“GYEEEEEK!!!! EHHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!” Mousse shrieked, totally caught off guard by the move. “Hey! I wasn’t ready!”
“And I care because?” Ryoga replied, picking up a second brush and stroking them in tandem, from heel to toes and back again, applying very little pressure. Mousse’s arms flailed like limp noodles as he rocked back and forth.
“GyahahhaahAHAHahahahAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAHH!!!! HEHEHEHEHEHHEEHHHEHE!!!” Mousse tried to sit up and reach for the makeshift stocks, but at the angle at which he was sitting plus the general lack of coordination of his movements precluded his escape. “GHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! HEY! NO!!!” Ryoga had decided that his toes were to be the next target and humming peacefully to himself, ran the brushes over each toe individually, ditching the other brush to hold his toes and devote full attention to each one individually.
Ryoga was about to make comments about piggies before he remembered his current state of…cursed-ness, so he decided that piggies were not something to be discussed at the moment. So instead he put down the large hairbrush and took up a small paintbrush of the kind used by painters for getting into small areas. Turned sideways, it was an almost perfect fit between Mousse’s toes. “Ready or not… here I come!!!!”
“Wha-AHHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!!! HEEEEHHEH!! HEEEEE!! EEEK! EHEHEHAHAHHAHAAHAH GHAAHAHAHAHAHE HEELELELEEEEP!!!!! HELP!!! MEHEHEHEHEHEHEEH!!! GHAHAHAHAHAH!!!” Mousse’s long hair was turning damp and stringy from all the sweat that broke out on his brow. Ryoga seemed to ignore that and continue.
“There won’t be any help!” Ryoga said forcefully, cocking an ear and listening to the faint voice of the MC back at the tournament. “No one is going to be looking for us. They’ll be paying attention to the show onstage.” Ryoga stopped to let Mousse breathe for a moment.
“B-but what if someone sees us? What will they say?” Mousse asked, looking around.
“We’re in the back of an alley. No one will – “
“OH MY GOD!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!” The shrill scream from the women’s dressing room made both Ryoga’s and Mousse’s hearts jump to their throats. Then they heard the familiar rant:
“What a haul, what a haul!” And they both breathed a sigh of relief as Happosai bounded away with his latest haul of women’s underwear.
“Strange man…” Ryoga muttered. “Do you ever wonder why he seems to take the ones from dressing rooms and gyms? Aren’t they the ones that haven’t been washed?”
Mousse only shrugged. “It’s his perversion… let him deal with it.”
“Master! Please!” the faint voices of Soun and Genma protested, moving away…
“Enough of that,” Ryoga said, putting his brush down and cracking his knuckles. “It’s time to finish this.” And with a quick, sudden, and completely unexpected movement, he commenced spiderwalking his fingers up and down Mousse’s feet.
Mousse went into a torrent of laughter. He whipped his head about, laughing like a banshee, tossing his head so violently that his glasses flew off and landed against a crate somewhere. The stocks rattled and banged, the cinderblocks creaked as his frantic gyrations shook even the considerable weight of the iron balls. Ryoga shut his ears to the incredibly loud laughter and went on with his duty.
“GHAHAHAHAHAEEHAHAHAHAHHAA AHHAAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHA HEHEHEEHE!!! HEHEHEHAHAHHA! NO NO NOAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HEEHHEEHHEH ST—STAHHHAHAAAAPIT!!!!!!! PLEHEHEHEHEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEZE!!!!”
Ryoga kept this up for only a few more minutes before letting Mousse breathe again. “Heh…eehehee…hee….phew,” Mousse panted, letting out a small sigh of relief.
Ryoga looked him over. “I think you’ve gotten used to that.” Deftly he leapt over to Mousse, and holding both his wrists with a hand, moved them up overhead and held them there. This gave him more or less free reign over Mousse’s upper body, and he used this well, experimenting again with such spots as the sides, ribs, belly and underarms. Mousse seemingly had a couple of scratches on his upper body. Must be from all that cutlery he carries in his shirt, Ryoga mused. With a shrug of dismissal, he commenced spidering his fingers in a pattern, starting at left underarm, coming down his sides to just over the hip, then coming up to the belly, lingering at the navel for a moment before going up the ribs in a zig-zag pattern ending at his right underarm, which then went down his right side before crossing back up to his left underarm again and repeating.
Mousse was nearly spent with laughter, and when he began to get a bit hoarse, Ryoga finally stopped for good and let the Chinese boy take a breather, and unwrapped his feet from the stocks. “Phew…. Heeh….heh…. ah…. Phew.” Mousse concluded, getting his glasses, shoes and robe, and beginning to dress again.
Mousse considered something as he dressed. It hadn’t been TOO bad… aside from the fact that Ryoga had been fairly merciless… in fact… was it…?
Ryoga looked at Mousse, and caught the odd look Mousse was giving him. Ryoga had the strange feeling that the same look was on his own face, as he dealt with feelings of his own. It had been… fun… to do that to Mousse. Was it possible that Mousse thought the same thing? Ryoga shook his head. No, couldn’t be. Who could like that…? Was it even possible…?
Mousse noticed Ryoga’s own consternation. Making a huge leap of courage, he said, “Ryoga, what’s on your mind? About… what we… just did?”
“I… ah… well…” Ryoga looked around, becoming a bit flustered.
Mousse looked down the alleyway. “There’s no one coming.”
He sat down, and found the pipe again. “We have some time.”
