The Nikholas F. Toledo Zu
presents
The Three-Fold God's Path
a DragonBall Z fanfic
by
Nikholas 'Don Juan' F. Toledo
(Overseas Correspondent - still home at the time of this episode's
writing)
Ya know, it's a bit late considering that this is episode 8, but - DBZ
and all its characters are ahem, ahem, NOT MINE. The only characters I
lay claim to are Arien, and the characters that show up that don't exist
in DBZ. Tenk yu bery mats! Ahem, ahem, one more thing... Please...
send... me... YOUR COMMENTS! Tenk yu.
episode 8: It's No Good
"Gonna take my time
I have all the time in the world
To make you mine
It is written in the stars above...
Don't say you want me
Don't say you need me
Don't say you love me
It's understood
Don't say you're happy
Out there without me
I know you can't be
'Cause it's no good..."
(By Depeche Mode)
"Say, what's the number one song on 93.1 X-lsFM these days anyway?"
the short, balding man turned to the person beside him on the train who
happened to be blasting some strange, dissonant metal screeching.
"Mmmm. 'scalled 'blub-blub' - it replaced 'Pink Tables' just last
week."
It was actually hard to tell that the person with the radio was
speaking, since the immense hunk of shiny chrome and black plastic
perched precariously on his shoulder was so large that it completely
obscured his face.
The bald man leaned back and whistled tunelessly for a while as he
shuffled a small, gray, steel slinky from hand to hand for a while.
"Hm. Wish they'd play 'Blue Suede Shoes' every once in a while.
Ah, HAH!" The guy with the shiny forehead abruptly leaped to his feet,
pointing authoritatively to the great beyond with his right index finger.
"I have a nefarious and devious plan! You!" He wrapped his beefy, rough
hands around the delicate, tattooed shoulders of his companion. "You
shall help me, good CHUM! Together, we shall conquer! AH-HAH-HAH-
HAHAHAHA!"
"Huh?" mumbled his companion from behind his smudged mirror shades,
so wide that they hid most of his face.
"We shall call up 93.1 X-lsFM twenty-four hours a day for an
entire week, continuously requesting 'Blue Suede Shoes' - in totally
different voices of course. So that they don't realize what we're doing
until it's TOO LATE! We'll GOON them! They'll have no choice but to
make it the new number one song for a while! Hah! We'll make it popular
again! It's going to be the wave of the future! Everyone around the
world will be listening to 'Blue Suede Shoes' by the time we're finished
bwahaHAHAHAHAHAHA!" In the distance, a volcano rumbled ominously to the
beat of the clicks of the slinky coils slapping against each other.
"Sure. Say, what's 'Blue Suede Shoes' ?"
The man with the slinky sat down, the wind knocked out of him.
"Ah, it's so tragic! What's the world coming to? No one's heard of
'Blue Suede Shoes' and Mr. Satan has become the proclaimed savior of the
world... It's all his fault! He took it all away from me! I was the
champion! Oh, for those long lost days of glory..." He wept into his
hands, rivers flowing down. The water just doesn't run dry for the
terminally depressed.
Once, a long, long time ago, in a far of corner of the stranger
side of the city, two friends shared a room at the Shinonome Academy for
Professional Wrestling and Martial Combat. Simple boys who shared many
things, most importantly: the ambition to become the strongest man in the
world.
One was a short-ish, rather skinny looking teen with a penchant for
purple clothing, and a more than generous smattering of pimples across
his pale forehead. His straight, black hair was limp and would hang down
his neck in bedraggled strands. The other, at only fourteen, was already
a large, heavily built man of a little over six feet, with a noble
bearing to his olive-toned face (most apparent in the imposing stature of
his nose) and rich, thick black hair that curled down his back in
majestic waves.
But they were merely freshmen at the Academy, and with its rough
nature, two young and innocent boys like them were favorite targets for
victimization by the bigger, stronger, rougher upper-classmen. A few
days into class, the older students decided to have some fun with the new
students.
"Hey, freshmints! Yeah, you with the slinky, I'm talkin' to you!"
rasped out a huge, leather-clad goon (leader of the Goon Squad - the
toughest gang at the Academy).
"Yes, sempai?"
"You look stupid! Put down that slinky right now!" The giant
glared menacingly at the olive-skinned one who still continued to flick
the slinky from wrist to wrist.
"But why?"
"What kind of school do you think you're in anyway? You look
disgraceful! A student of your promising build and size playing with a
slinky!" The big man was practically frothing at the mouth by now.
"Huh? But I am not playing - this is training!" He held up his
slinky, and thunder crashed menacingly in the distance. " Martial Arts
Slinky Combat (MASC for short)!" The young Mr. Satan dropped into a
combat stance, slinky held at ready in the right palm retracted a foot
behind his right ear, left hand high in front to better gauge the
changing distances of intense hand-to-hand combat, and eyes squinted in a
dangerous glare. "In the hands of the trained MASC student," the
bristly-faced young man paused dramatically, "a mere plastic coil such as
this can puncture bricks with impunity! Our standardized motto: 'This
is a serious martial art, dammit!'" The last was said with great
emphasis, authoritativeness, and dramatic panache. Unfortunately, the
effect was somewhat marred by his undignified sneezing at this point. A
sneezing fit so intense that he doubled over on the ground before
managing to push himself back to his feet.
Suddenly, the guy with the shades and the boom-box interrupted the
narration of the balding guy. "Say, are you talking about the same Mr.
Satan that everyone around the world knows of? REAL men don't play with
slinkies!"
"AAAAAARRRGGGHHHH!" The balding man wrapped his steel slinky
around his skinny (and accidental) companion's neck. "Look, I am a
serious practitioner," spittle was flying about dangerously at this
point, "the master actually, of the illustrious house of MASC! Martial
Arts Slinky Combat! It's a serious martial art, dammit! Don't interrupt
me!"
The skinny guy managed to get a muffled, gasped, "Okay mistah
boss!" out, causing the other to slacken his hold on his make-shift
garrote.
"Good! Now let me get back to the story."
"By the way."
"What is it now?"
"I'm impressed. You said your standardized motto without sneezing!
That's remarkable. I couldn't do that!"
Words can't describe the jagged fear inspired in the skinny one's
heart by the serious martial artist's mercilessly murderous looking eyes.
"That's enough of that, or else!"
Mr. Satan's thin, pale-skinned companion was still relaxed,
slouching against the side of the corridor where the confrontation was
taking place. But his hand was in his jacket pocket...
"Hah! Why that's ridiculous!" the huge leader sprayed spit as he
pontificated polemic, "Goon Squad! Show them how real men fight!"
Mr. Satan glanced significantly at his thin companion. "I'll take
them, aniki! Just watch me!"
"Uhm, excuse me, Mr. MASC man, sir." The boom-box carrying one
interrupted again.
The other almost screamed with frustration. "WHAAAAAAAAT?"
"So what does this have to do with 'Blue Suede Shoes'? I mean,
this story is connected to it, right?"
In response, the slinky man's eyes bulged, threatening to burst
with the intense pressure. Then he cried, as only a man among men can.
"Say." Goten abruptly stopped chewing.
"What?" Mari paused from typing on her lap-top.
"I feel that somewhere out there, there's something strange going
on... There's some kind of shift happening... Someone out there is
laughing, and his heart is savage and hungry while his dreams are
inscrutable." He slapped himself. "Did I just say that?"
Her eyes widened with concern. "Is it important? We've only got a
few hours before our papers are due!"
Goten shook his head, as though clearing his eyes of some sinister
fog (the fog one falls into after several days of non-stop no-sleep
cramming). "Uhm. Nah. It's probably nothing. I'm so exhausted now
that I'll probably see some gremlins studying beside us with the elves at
any moment." Then he wolfed down the remains of his cup noodles hastily
as he resumed typing at a furious rate (not an easy trick!). He glanced
at his watch.
"Good Lord! You're right!" He desperately started punching the
keys even faster, starting to glow with chi in his concentration.
Mari leaned back, yawning as she rubbed at tired eyes outlined by
the deep shadows of fatigue. Then she sighed a deep, soul-stretching
sigh of tiredness that went beyond all normal bounds of tiredness,
completely redefining the word, actually. "At least I've only got five
pages to go. Goten, hon..."
"What?" he asked, fingers still blurring from key to key. Page 40
done. Page 41. Page 42...
"If I ever put off something like this 'til the last moment again,
just put me out of my misery and shoot me. Please. I don't ever want to
see another cup of bad coffee again. Hmm..." She leaned over to look at
his screen. "Impressive. At this pace, you'll be done in time for
breakfast. My treat, what do you say?"
"Sure. And, hey, if I ever do something like this again, you shoot
me, okay?"
"What are you complaining about! You're typing faster than I can
think!" She frowned.
"Uhmm... So I type real fast. It's just practice. Mindless
reflex, really. It's coming up with the stuff to write that takes me
forever. I'm a slow thinker, you see. I finally finished thinking about
what I'm writing, so now it's just copying the darned thing down. Hey,
you know something?"
"What?" she mumbled sleepily as she began typing again herself.
"Despite all our complaining about these past few days... I...
uhmm... It's been kinda fun. With you. I mean." His expression was
carefully neutral, even as his rapid key punching speeded up even more,
until the clicks sort of blended together into a continuous, constant
rumble, like a high-pitched car engine.
She desperately fought to keep her eyes open as she thought about
it. "Yeah... I know what you mean. I, uhmm... Doing this together
made it bearable... even... almost. Enjoyable." She yawned again.
"If I pass out, please..."
"Yeah, I know. Poke you. If that doesn't work, shake you. If
that doesn't work, splash you with cold water. If that doesn't work,
boiling water." He smiled. "I can't believe it took until I poured ice
water down the back of your shirt to wake you up the last time you passed
out." His fingers never stopped in their relentless tapping, even as he
laughed. "You were so angry! I thought you were going to try to kill
me!"
Her forehead creased in irritation. "I didn't mean it literally!
Besides, I was trying to kill you - at the time, anyway."
"With a ball-point pen?" he smirked.
"Hey, if you hadn't caught it, it would have punctured through your
right eye, laughing boy!" She was reddening slightly.
He turned, and looked into her angry, flashing eyes (still typing
as he did so). "Ah, you are so much fun to irritate!"
That look turned something gooey in Mari (not hard, considering how
tired she was). "And if I were going to be irritated, I'd rather it be
by you." Good God, did I actually say such a corny thing? I really must
be tired, she thought. She had to finish this paper while she had any
neurons still functioning. She picked up the pace on her own typing,
even as a dimple began to impose itself on her attempt at a somber
expression.
"Uhm, so. This, 'together' thing." Goten interjected after a few
moments of relative silence.
"Yes?" That dimple was deepening in prominence at an alarming
rate...
"Are we? I mean..." He blushed uncontrollably, doing a fair
approximation of what can only be called 'fire engine red.' "I mean, are
we? These last few days kind of blurred by... and... well..."
Mari didn't quite know what to make of that. She knew that she was
so tired that she was hardly in a position for serious, rational thought.
She should really put off thinking about it until after she'd gotten,
say... twenty hours of continuous sleep. Oh, what the Hell. I always
was a creature of the moment, she thought. "Yeah... I mean, if you want
an 'us,'" she coughed a bit, hemming and hawing and stuttering in a
futile stalling attempt. "Well, uhmm... I wouldn't mind."
Goten's eyes just couldn't get away from his fingers. "Uhmm...
neither would I... that is, if you wouldn't... mind..."
She shook her head, beginning to blush rather furiously herself.
They were both being so ridiculously wishy-washy! She wanted to scream.
Or laugh, she wasn't sure. She had to take charge of the situation and
speak in a calm, authoritative manner. Like a mature, responsible adult.
"I wouldn't mind... So, uhm, I guess that means we're an, uhm, 'us'?"
Whoops... That didn't quite come out right... Oh, well. Why fight it?
She smiled warmly at him, a smile that extended from her mouth to her
eyes, and from her eyes to something bright and smoldering within.
"Uhmm... yeah..." he started grinning idiotically at this point.
The paper was going a little slower, but that was all right. Right now,
everything in the world was suddenly all right. "Yeah," he murmured,
casting a sidelong glance at Mari and taking in the sight of her tousled
hair, deep eyebags, coffee-splattered blouse and generally rumpled look.
She was gorgeous, and he just couldn't stop smiling. "Yeah..."
"Miss Sterling?" the little red-haired girl spoke as she shifted
about uncomfortably in her seat.
"Yes, Anju?"
"Would you please tell me again why I have to go to college?"
"Well, it's like this. I've sort of adopted you. And no daughter
of mine is going to go through life without a college education." She
looked out the window in a somewhat detached manner. "And, even if
you're only fifteen, the tests say that you're certainly bright enough
and well-trained enough for it. Actually, the results suggested that you
should really have been placed on an accelerated academic track long
before this. Admittedly, your education at the Facility was pretty
impressive, but it was also extremely limited and limiting. And
finally," she drew in a deep breath. "Some of the people helping to
protect us go to this university. Makes things convenient for everyone,
you see? And there's no way that I'm going to go into hiding from a bunch
of government thugs and terrorists." She turned to her young companion
and smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging way. "You'll like it,
Anju. It'll be an interesting change from the structured, unchanging
schedule you had at the Facility."
"But do I really have to wear this stupid dress?" Anju picked at
the pink frills annoyedly. Dresses just weren't practical for a martial
artist. Not this type of dress, anyway. "I actually look even younger
than I really am. No one's going to take me seriously at all!"
Andrea sighed. "I'm sorry, but it's the only thing I've got
that'll fit you... Look, after classes today, we'll go shopping to get
you some proper clothing, all right? I barely had the time to get you
enrolled for the spring semester - and that took quite a bit of string-
pulling and envelope-slipping, I can tell you. Besides," she smiled
again, "you look cute. Even if it is a sort of 'Heidi of the Swiss
Alps'
cute."
"Great. I can tell that this is just going to be my day." Anju
grumbled as she forced herself to do a calming exercise.
"Now remember, you promised not to use the greater end of your
abilities." Andrea's face returned to its normal, stern expression.
"Yeah, yeah..."
"I'm serious, Anju-chan. For most of your life, you've fought and
trained in a class of combat that could kill normal people instantly.
Most of the students at the university could get really hurt if you lost
control of your temper."
Anju stuck her tongue out. "I've been in absolute control of my
temper for all my life, thank you very much. Trust me." She gave her
best, wide-eyed, sparkly smile.
"Why doesn't that reassure me? Just be careful, okay? And
remember to use the communicator if any Facility people come for us. The
Great Saiyamen (I and III) are only a split second away."
Anju muttered under her breath, "Hah. They're not that great..."
Mr. Satan cried out, "MASC-punch!" as his fist streaked forward,
launching some of the coils outward like a spring-loaded cannon, driving
the leader of the gang back against the wall with a painful and
breathless, "Whoof!"
"MASC-kick!"
"MASC-headbutt!"
"MASC-powerslam!"
One of the spectators turned to a friend beside him to ask, "What
do slinkies have to do with a powerslam?"
At this point the big man in the leathers and spikes shouted as he
struggled up from his knees in the dust, "Hey! What are you Goons
waiting for? Give me a hand here!"
Someone tossed him a huge steel fist on a stick, which he caught
deftly, despite the large swelling that was closing up his right eye. He
smiled. "Ah, hah! You're death is in my hands!"
"Steel fiiiiiiist- strike-strike-strike-strike-striiiiike!"
Suddenly the bigger man seemed to be holding a blurred hail of those
shiny metal fists, all streaking towards the quickly bewildered Mr.
Satan. The young man was quite flattened, and dozens of fresh bruises
decorated his skin.
A man with a mike, greased back hair, a cheap leather vest and
monochromatic electric pink polyester shirt and pants called out, "And
the crowd goes wild as Goon Leader Hayashi scores with his deadly
trademark 'Fist of Fury' coming back from what looked like certain defeat
at the hands of the Mere Freshman!"
The gathered crowd cheered and hooted in response.
"Hah!" The Goon Leader smiled a big, gap-toothed grin as he fixed
up his drooping mohawk deftly with a magically-manifested hairbrush.
"Goon Squad! Finish him! Redeem yourselves for that beating this boy
gave you earlier! Get some self-respect back! Show them the meaning of
being a GOOON!"
The dozen big men rumbled forth, about to trample Mr. Satan beneath
the steel-clad retribution of their Doc M army boots, when Mr. Satan's
skinny friend lifted a hand before them and said in a calm, authoritative
voice belying his years, "Stop. Else I shall be forced to visit the
divine wrath of the illustrious house of MASC upon thine unwashed heathen
heads!"
Boldly, they courageously ignored him, trampling forth in an
unstoppable juggernaut of angry mob bloodlust. Okay, so maybe it looked
about as courageous as an entire hockey team taking on the class nerd,
but then this was no ordinary class nerd...
He took his right hand out of his jacket pocket, drawing forth the
slinky of all slinkies... "Behold one of the secret techniques of the
omnipotent house of Martial Arts Slinky Combat: MASC FLASH!" He held it
between his palms closely, then with incredible wrist-strength, he flexed
the hidden cords of muscle in his forearms, throwing his palms facing
flat out, launching prodigious coils of outraged slinky with subsonic
speed at the massed horde of goons, causing a circular shockwave to
travel through the air at them, stunning them in place and allowing the
mighty coils to strike their ankles unimpeded, knocking them back on
their now painful buttocks.
"Amazing! Ladies and Gentlemints and M&M's, the second Mere
Freshman has launched a devastating counterstrike, single-handedly
knocking down the entire Goon Squad!" The crowd 'ooh-ed' and 'aah-ed' at
the announcer's fantastically perceptive declaration.
The pale-faced user of MASC arrogantly strutted forward, slinky
held high above his head as he shouted, "Hayashi! Face me! I am
Fujiisawa Koji and I shall rule! I will take the leadership of your
precious Goon Squad from you! This is a serious martial art, dammit!"
His eyes blazed with preternatural power.
The announcer screamed, "Yes ladies and gentlemen, with that one
move, the Mere Freshman Koji has demonstrated that indeed, Martial Arts
Slinky Combat is a serious martial art!" He immediately began to sneeze,
rolling about on the ground uncontrollably as it grew worse sneeze after
sneeze.
Koji turned his face to this skies as he reminisced poetic.
"Once, long long ago, I was a mere boy in an all-boys grade school
- the skinniest, shortest and wimpiest of all. But the students there
were enlightened and treated me kindly, and all went well at Athena's
school for the Blue Eagles... Until one day, IT came. His name was...
it is too painful to recall! A small boy half my size with cruelty in
his eyes! He bullied us all mercilessly! At the school fair when
students from the all-girls-school nearby came over to have fun, there a
beautiful flower named..."
"What was her name???" the crowd waited anxiously.
"Uhm. I can't remember."
As one, numerous huge beads of perspiration appeared on the heads
of the spectators.
"But it doesn't matter! She was the beauty in a pink dress, and
she stole my heart! I was on my way to see her by the ferris wheel,
fragrant flowers in hand, to proclaim my undying love for her, then IT
came and tripped me into the mud!!!!" He screamed, tears flowing down.
"Oh!" "How sad!" "Yes, I can relate to that..." "<sniffle,
sniffle> What a touching story!" "Hey, I wasn't that small back then..."
The hushed voices of the crowd sympathized and empathized with the tragic
figure of the slinky man.
He roared, "She laughed at me! And as I kneeled there in the mud,
I turned my face to the skies, and swore that I would never be tripped
into the mud again! I trained hard at my Great Grand-Uncle Hiro's dojo
for MASC, challenging every challenger to come forth, defeating every
warrior at hand, standing unflinching in the face of the vicious elements
as I stood naked beneath a freezing waterfall in the cold hard winters in
the mountains, resisting the crashing waves of the very raging seas
themseeeelves!"
"That's my aniki!" cheered Mr. Satan.
The crowd 'ooh-ed' and 'aah-ed' with only one dissenter going,
"Huh? What do crashing waves have to do with martial arts and slinkies?"
"Fool, don't you watch samurai movies?" responded the announcer.
"Now, I am here to begin my meteoric rise to the top of Pro-
Wrestling to proclaim my supremacy as the strongest man in the world
(with my faithful sidekick, Mr. Satan, faithfully by my side)! And now,
I shall begin with you Hayashi! I still remember you after all these
years!" Flames danced in Koji's eyes.
Hayashi looked confused as he glanced from side to side. "Huh? B-
b-b-but... I swear, I didn't mean to trip you back then! I was just on
my way to get some cotton candy! I think you want someone else... if I
could just remember his name!"
Koji sneered as he pointed, "You lie! I can see the guilty fear in
your eyes!"
"Actually, I think you see my yellow-tinged contacts... But NO! I
won't let you take the leadership of the Goon Squad from me! I too
suffered long and hard to get to the top after my humiliating defeat in
Prep school by a little guy with curly hair! He stole the Science
Fiction Club presidency from me, and no one's ever going to steal the
leadership from me again! By all that's holy, the 'FIST OF FURY'
technique shall triumph this day!" he dropped into a low combat crouch,
metal fists on sticks at ready.
One student in the crowd with a bob-cut bounced to her feet,
calling out, "Fifty bucks on the new guy!" A frenzied round of betting
was quickly finished and then all was quiet.
Koji squared off against his bigger opponent as he stretched his
slinky between outstretched arms, perched on his left leg and stretched
out his right leg up over his head. "Hah, but you are already defeated!
MASC-White-Crane stance!"
The two fighters snarled as they glowed with blue-white auras. It
began to rain hard outside, and the winds drove the drops in through the
windows as they paused, measuring each other up. The crowd was
enraptured, silent, except for the announcer who calmly and methodically
chomped on his popcorn as he said, "Better than a samurai movie!"
"Hey this is getting good!" the guy with the boombox said
excitedly.
"Hush! Let me finish..."
"Double Steel-fiiiiiiist- strike-strike-strike-strike-striiiiike!"
Hayashi thundered towards Koji, a veritable whirlwind of flashing steel
hands striking for the purple-clad avenger.
"Hah! What a foolish technique to use on me! MASC-Crane-Flapping-
the-Wings defense!" Koji cackled maniacally as he waved his arms up and
down at fantastic speed with the correct frequency and amplitude such
that several standing waves formed on the slinky, deflecting the first
dozen attacks of Hayashi and finally completely entangling the big man
from his steel-fists on sticks up to his elbows. Koji yelled a fearsome,
"Kiaaaa!" as he heaved, pulling his larger opponent of his feet, adding
even more momentum to the considerable amount from Hayashi's berserk
charge. Hayashi smashed head-over-heels into the wall of the corridor
with a bone-jarring "THUD!" as he was knocked unconscious by the pain in
his hands caused by the constriction of the slinky coils around the vital
pressure and nerve points about his wrists and metacarpals.
"BwahahahAHAHAHAHAHA! Nothing can stop me nooow! I am Fujiisawa
Koji! Today the Goon Squad, tomorrow, the WCWF Martial Arts Championship
of the World, BwaHAHAHAHAHAHA! Kneel to your new leader, Goon Squad!"
Half the crowd cheered while the other half cringed from the
increasingly shrill tones of Koji's laughter. The Big Big Men of the
Goon Squad were forced to there knees as they wept at the shame of loss.
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Call me Koji. What is it NOW?" The slinky man was smiling, eyes
still lost in those old days of glory.
"Let's break for brunch. And my name... is Neil." The little guy
in the mirror shades patted his stomach.
Koji thought about it. "Brunch? But what's that? Is that some
strange thing like 'lupper'? Oh, fine, I suppose so... I was getting
thirsty anyway. Neil what?"
"...just... Neil." Neil finished mysteriously.
Trunks ambled over to the university, backpack slung carelessly
over one shoulder, his baggy slacks and polo shirt graced with a
calculated sophistication in the sloppiness of its wrinkles, round dark
glasses over his eyes. He felt whimsical today - all was right with the
world. He'd beaten Goten to Ami without having to fight, he'd aced his
finals in three of his four subjects (though getting a somewhat annoying
A-minus in that accursed Philosophy class), his Mom had just raised his
allowance for Christmas, and Vegita (it was never easy connecting the
concepts of Vegita and 'Dad' although it was getting easier), bless his
self-centered, proud heart, had given him the keys to a new car ("The son
of the King of the Saiyajin - also the richest man in the world, should
have an expensive car. It is only fitting," Vegita had said gruffly, a
hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his cruel mouth). Oh, Trunks
was a little annoyed at the idea of having to baby-sit some little girl
at the university, as well as one of his teachers, but he figured that
all he'd have to do is watch. Shouldn't take much effort. And Goten and
his brother would be there as well. Heck, Yamcha was going to be there,
too. Apparently, he got bored of being a jobless bum and started a
martial arts dojo at the university. All four of them carried the little
emergency beepers that would signal an attack on the two women. He
wondered what the girl was like. Having been raised in an austere,
military setting - he wondered if she'd have the same nasty disposition
as his Dad. An alarming thought.
He murmured to himself, "I wonder why Mom is so interested in
protecting Arien... This is all too strange."
Ah, well. It didn't matter. All was well in the world - and he
was on his way to an engineering class that he shared with Ami. A class
one expected to be boring - actually, a class that was also known as
'nap-time' class since no one was really expected to stay conscious
through it. It wasn't that the teachers lacked enthusiasm, or that the
subject matter was uninteresting - it just happened that way. Some
strange, mystical force always stole through the lecture room during
Engineering 41 lecture, and there wasn't anything anyone had ever been
able to do about it. The only way the students learned was the hard way
- they taught themselves straight out of the textbook, with a little
practical application during the laboratory class. Due to this, fully
sixty percent of the class failed or dropped the class every semester.
"My kind of class," he murmured.
Indeed, it looked like a great beginning to an outstandingly
beautiful day. Spring was about in rich abundance, the birds were
singing, there was a faint breeze in the air that smelled of lilacs, and
he'd even been able to find a parking space close to the university.
A distant voice spoke, "Yes, I think that's him..."
"Look out below!" he heard someone call out far above him. He
continued, pretty much too distracted to take notice. Which he should
have. All of the indicators were there - a faint whistling sound, an odd
shadow, a rapidly approaching presence, the steady 'whup-whup' sound of a
helicraft overhead - he should have stepped to the right by about a foot
instantly. But his attention was all in the wrong places - everywhere
but up.
When it was over, he grunted as he pried his face out of the hole
it made in the concrete sidewalk.
"Whoops! Sorry 'bout that! I said to watch out, didn't I?" A
perky, light-hearted voice spoke in a snippy manner.
Trunks first impulse was to tear off the person's head, but as he
bounced up to his feet, he came face to face with the one thing he hadn't
learned exactly how to deal with yet - the minstrations of an excessively
cute, smiling, attractive young female. It was just not the sort of
thing one learned from martial arts - except a few types that he didn't
care to subscribe to (like the more lecherous side of Kame Senin's
knowledge).
"You're Trunks, right? I'm Anju. Say, what are you doing down
there?" she smirked.
So, Trunks did the only thing possible, under the circumstances.
First, he took off the shattered remains of his designer sun-glasses.
Then he wiped his face with his handkerchief to get the dust off with as
much dignity as possible. Then he did his best to glare at the paradigm
of young cute girl before him. "Aaaargh!" he cried out.
There. He'd done it. He'd actually managed to raise his voice and
look angry. Unfortunately for Trunks, the girl instinctively knew the
correct response. Giggle. That abruptly deflated Trunks' attempt at
righteous indignation.
"Anju!" a stern, serious voice shouted from the helicraft high
above. "I told you to wait for until we landed!"
Andrea jumped down herself, taking the fourty-foot drop rather
easily, only bending slightly at the knees to compensate for the shock.
"Sorry about that, Trunks-san. Your mother's been very kind to us, but
eh... well... Anju still hasn't quite gotten used to life outside of
the Facility. Apparently, jumping out of moving aircraft was sort of a
part of her early training and well..."
"I just do it for fun, now - it's still more exciting than flying -
'coz when you're flying, you know you're not going to fall, while falling
without chi can still give you quite a rush." Anju interrupted, rather
breathlessly speaking at a pace about as slow as a bullet fired from a
railgun.
"Well you didn't have to aim for my head!" Trunks' forehead was
creasing again as his irritation began to climb.
The little girl lost her cheerful demeanor as she somehow managed
to... swell... in response, and seemed to tower over him as she shouted,
"Well you should've been able to get out of the way! What kind of a
warrior are you - you got flattened by what should've been an
inconsequential blow!"
Trunks tried to tower over her in turn, but while he was taller, it
wasn't quite enough... especially since she had the argumentative
momentum. Sometimes, he hated being short. He tried to compensate with
the volume of his argument. "I was surprised! That's all! You wouldn't
have been able to touch me if this were a real fight!"
Her face was suddenly only an inch away, yet she still seemed to
convey as sense of greater height (to Trunks' further annoyance). "Well
that's the problem, isn't it? What do you expect our attackers to do,
announce their arrival with a shouted challenge? Do you know what they
could do to you with the element of surprise? They could launch a rather
special sort of shoulder-launched rocket at you - and while the blast
wouldn't hurt you much, it would stun you long enough for you to breathe
in the neurotoxin it'd carry! A toxin designed specifically for YOUR,"
she poked him roughly in the chest, causing him to lose his normally
excellent sense of balance and fall onto his back, "physiology! It could
knock out even you if you breathed in the barest whiff of the stuff! How
do you expect to protect us if you can't even effectively protect
yourself? You should be ready for attack at all times!"
Trunks tried not to look sheepish, but the tone of her voice,
well... it was the same tone of voice his father sometimes used. And
when his dad's voice was like that... well, it was usually time to be
ready to take a bad beating. While Trunks was stronger now, he could
never fight against his father when he was using that voice. Mostly
because there was usually a reason for it when Vegita did so. Trunks
couldn't fight punishment he knew was appropriate... Athough he could
usually manage a passable enough defense so that he didn't hurt too much
afterwards...
At least the girl didn't emphasize her chewing-out with the rather
brutal attacks that Trunks half expected her to lash out at him with.
Still... He looked to Andrea with a visual plea for assistance, but
she just shook her head, smiled, and waved as she walked away, presumably
to her first class of the semester.
Trunks brushed his bangs into place with his fingers as he mumbled,
"I see... Yes, well... Uhmm... Sorry... Won't happen again, Miss...
Y'know, you're not what I expected a military super-soldier sort would
look like..."
She wrinkled her nose as she looked at her outfit. "This wasn't my
idea," she tugged at the material of her dress. "She made me." Anju
indicated her departing, de facto 'mom' with a glance.
"Say, aren't you too young to be in college?" he inquired as he
took a more thorough visual examination of the said kid.
"Yeah, well, you're not the only one who's going to be saying
that..." She suddenly looked rather small and vulnerable again, and the
change was as disconcerting to Trunks as it was rapid.
She offered him her hand, and helped him up with a strength that
was incongruous with her slight frame. "Sorry I scolded you. It's a
habit I picked up from the drill sergeant at the Facility. Whenever
someone messes up, everyone takes a turn at making sure that person never
does it again. Um, where's Engineering 41?"
Trunks managed to keep from gawking. "You're a... classmate? You
don't look like the engineering type!" He refrained from adding that she
looked like a high school kid, or perhaps an English major.
She sighed as her eyes rolled. "And you don't look like the type
who can destroy whole cities with a thought. Neither do I. But both of
us can, can't we?"
Trunks shrugged, "Not many humans that can make that claim..."
She murmured sadly, "Used to be quite a few of us at the Facility
that could... Now there's only me... and a handful scattered around the
world."
"Hmm... Well, we're going to be late." Trunks grumbled.
"I'll race you." Anju shot off, running faster than most cars
could race.
"Oh, well. Guess we won't be late then. So you want to race,
ehh..." Trunks got a somewhat crazed look in his eyes. "Well then...
heh, heh..." His hair flared up as he called up just enough strength to
make his eyes glow with an eerie yellow light. Around him, the currents
of earth-chi were pushed aside slightly by his increasing presence, and
the leaves on the sidewalk began to fly about, blown by the breeze of his
strength. "I never lose races..." The thrill rushed through his nerves.
"So you want to learn MASC, huh?" Koji murmured. "Stand up, put
down your stereo, and turn around. Hmm... Not promising... But then
again, I looked worse myself when I began. The first muscles to develop
aren't particularly visible either so... hmm..."
Neil flexed his forearms. "Wrist strength is the most important
factor, right? Well, I have a decent amount. Can we start while on this
train?"
"Why not! You show great enthusiasm, boy! I like you. And while
you start with these wrist exercises, I can finish my tale."
He was travelling.
The light from the stars stretched out before him, forming an
endless corridor of light.
"I'll be there soon..."
----end episode 8
Nikholas F. Toledo Zu @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/mezza9.html
Vector, Switch, Yebah, Don Juan, goo, Pervert, Scruples, Hollie, NomaD,
Blitz, Gee, Datzo
Fanfiction @ http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Flats/3145/fanfics.html
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