“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.”
Go to Ranma 1/2: The Martial Arts Tickling
Tournament part 3b