The Nikholas F. Toledo Zu
presents:
The Three-Fold God's Path
a DragonBall Z fanfic
by
Nikholas 'Don Juan' F. Toledo
(Overseas Correspondent - Okay, so it's still summer and I'm still at
home. I'll be overseas again soon... really.)
Note: I forgot to mention this in the previous episode, but there are
three - only THREE, mind you - three lines in the previous episode that I
lifted mostly unchanged from episode no. 41 (I teenk) of Ranma. If you
don't know which three lines I'm referring to, well that's your problem!
=)
Episode 9: 'My features form with the change in the weather...' - Tears
for Fears
At a busy intersection not quite in the middle of the city, a car
passed a red light, speeding by and almost hitting a bicyclist. Unseen
by anyone in the vicinity, as the car had roared by at about sixty miles-
per-hour, the bicyclist had thrown a tiny wafer of silicon, the size of a
thumb nail, towards the black car, which was caught by a black, gloved
hand just before the window was closed.
Inside the car, the molecular inscriptions within the sliver of
silicon were read by the sensitive electronic surges passing through the
minuscule needle being passed over the black surface. Besides the STM
itself, special equipment enclosed the tunneling microscope in special
magnetic fields to keep the shocks and disturbances of the fast-moving
vehicle from interfering with the sensors. The message was rapidly
decoded, and relayed to the monitor before the narrow man in gray seated
at the back of the car.
"I see. The first target has been chosen. Genin, activate the
rogue. Get her cooperation at any cost. Her skills are far more useful
in this matter than the artificially-muscle-bound brutes you normally
employ. You have two weeks to notify her, and if necessary, to persuade
her." The voice was altered and masked into an indistinct electronic
basso, and the message was passed on.
"Such a shame that you wanted to leave us... You could have been
the very best among us... daughter. The underworld still remembers well
how you killed the five great heads of the Santini Family, as well as
half of their retainers and officials... for your senior project."
Yuu roared as his huge, rippling muscles caused his yellow tank top
with the red lettering to burst off of him, "Thee it was that I TOLD to
get out of mine way!" His speech was altered, guttural.
In response, Nik drew forth the smooth, gleaming length of his
bokken, "Miscreant! It is thy turn to step aside! 'Tis I that haveth
right of way!"
"Fool, dost thou not know that the bigger one always has right of
way! Wouldst thou dare to get in the way of a bus that wants to change
lanes when thine car is out of the line of sight of the driver!" Yuu
frothed at the mouth.
"It figures that a fool such as thee wouldst use an analogy where
thou wert a bus! But I am the police car of justice on these highways,
and me in my pursuit of foul criminals nothing will stop! Delay me at
thine own risk." A fierce light shone from his eyes.
"Pfah! Thou art merely late for a class! No criminals dost thou
pursue! Merely a college student art thou!"
"Well, thou art no bus! And thou carriest no passengers!
Therefore, I should be the one to go first." Nik advanced a foot
menacingly, beginning to glow with concentration.
The announcer in the pink jumpsuit screamed, "Remember ladies and
gentlemen, L**** for Senator! Your sponsor and donor for this special
event is L**** for senator! Remember to vote on Tuesday! And now back
to the ring, I mean the sidewalk of death!"
The crowd cheered "GO YUU!" and "Who, what, ME?" and "Yah,
bhaybee!" and "BBC ONE!" while soothing jazz played in the background,
totally incongruous to the heavy dramatic tension visible in their
sweaty, manly, trembling muscles.
Anju and Trunks walked side by side as they left the Physics
Institute on their way to the cafeteria. Anju stopped to examine the
commotion. She relaxed her ramrod posture.
Trunks paused long enough to glance, "Oh, it's them again. Nothing
special. Let's grab lunch."
Anju ran her fingers through her short, cropped hair. "Do they do
this everyday?"
"Nah... Just... Oh... Twice a week. It's when their schedules
coincide." Trunks impatiently stepped forward again.
"But I'd really like to watch," she pouted.
Trunks almost gave at that point, vulnerable as he was to the
potency of the 'cute attack' when he remembered something. "Oh, don't
worry. They're just into the preliminary shouting match. We can finish
lunch by the time they actually start fighting."
"Oh, okay." Anju reluctantly allowed herself to be led away. "So,
tell me about that blue-haired girl..."
Fujiisawa Koji first appeared on the professional scene as 'The
Serious Man.' He went through several changes in both costume and name,
eventually settling upon the title, "The Death Coil" which, for no reason
other than his preference for the color, involved him dressing up in a
completely purple jumpsuit with matching boots and mask. And his slinky
was half-black and half-white, thus appropriately representing the two
most common colors culturally identified with death.
He rose quickly through the ranks of the WCWF, eliminating first
the numerous nameless nobodys that one always has to plow through before
getting to the meaty core fighters of the WCWF. Seemingly out of
nowhere, he appeared in the middle of the great feud between the two
dominant groups of fighters in the WCWF: The Nation of Bulk, and The
Lewd World Order. He established his own group, bringing his first
conquest with him to the pros - The GOON Squad. He challenged one and
all, consecutively fighting and defeating both the World Champion and the
InterContinental Champion. Of course, since his was the only group that
possessed and used 'A Serious Martial Art,' the relatively untrained
wrestlers of the WCWF were easy prey.
Wrestlers would approach him with a clumsy punch, which he'd duck
with contemptuous ease. Then he'd open up with his arsenal of baffling
moves ranging from the MASC flash up to the terrifyingly painful MASC
Apocalypse. He wasn't a showy fighter, but he certainly was an effective
one. He trained fighters to use efficient moves rather than the flashy
(but pointless) drop-kicks and jump attacks from the third rope.
'The Serious Man' revolutionized professional wrestling, bringing a
new level of showy panache as well as gladiator realism - since he used a
Serious Martial Art, his foes often bled Serious Blood and were typically
Seriously Hurt rather than hurt just for show. In other words, he made
the formerly tame WCWF into an actual full-contact freestyle anything-
goes fight to the finish. Though at first he was deplored for the new
level of violence (not violins!), the audience loved it too much for the
financial backers to eliminate him and the Goon Squad. And then, slowly,
more serious fighters and martial artists trickled into the suddenly
respectable form of combat that professional wrestling had become. Among
them, 'The Death Coil' reigned supreme, showered with respect, the
audience's cheers, and a guest spot on a certain popular Saturday night
talk-show hosted by some guy with bad teeth.
He had fame, he had fortune, he had it all. He even had a
girlfriend who was formerly an actress on some TV show about the beach.
But little did he know...
"That rat, Mr. Satan!" Koji bawled over his soggy bacon.
"Yes, what did he do?" Neil leaned close, absorbed in the story,
heedless of the dangerous drops of spittle flying forth.
"He betrayed me! He betrayed the Art! He betrayed the Goon Squad
and Martial Arts Slinky Combat!" He blew his nose noisily using a
convenient corner of the tablecloth. "He sold out! The old school
professional wrestlers, you know, the flashy ones who always stopped
beating up their opponents for a few seconds just to show off their
muscles to the crowd... They still had all the money they picked up from
their old endorsements and their stupid toy action figures! They paid
him to get back at us, and to bring back the old form of pro-wrestling...
Acting, dramatic turnarounds, unbelievable comebacks from certain
defeat... Stupid cheating while the referee has his back turned..." He
knocked over his coffee with his wildly gesticulating arms, but he didn't
care at this point.
Neil muttered, "Everything pro wrestling used to stand for..."
"Exactly! The ingrates! I made the formerly scoffed-at and
ludicrous fakery of the WCWF into a Serious Fighting Game - a Sport that
real fighters could be proud to take part in." Koji sniffled. "The
other members of the Goon Squad tried to warn me, but I didn't believe
they could have bought a Serious fighter into giving up The ART... How
wrong I was..."
"Money talks..." Neil nodded sagely.
It was time for the annual WCWF world championship match, and 'The
Death Coil' was expected to win the title yet again. The elimination's
followed the routine with 'The Death Coil' and his Goon Squad cut through
the others quickly.
At last, it was down to the final bout between 'The Death Coil' and
his star student, Mr. Satan.
Before the match, they had lunch together, laughed and watched a
movie about aliens coming to the earth in search of potential mates.
This was to be a fight between friends, "no hard feelings and may the
best man win."
The bell rang, and the two squared off, Koji in his trademarked
purple jumpsuit and Mr. Satan in his brown and whites.
Koji smiled as he lifted his right leg up and stretched into a
modified MASC-white-crane stance. His normal strategy was responsive and
defensive, waiting for his opponent to attack and make a mistake for him
to exploit. So he waited for Mr. Satan to bring out his own springy,
bouncy, steel slinky Special no. 5. And to his absolute shock, Mr. Satan
threw it at him, letting go completely.
Koji deflected it absent-mindedly with his left forearm sweeping
out as he cried, "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Satan! What do you
think you're doing?"
Satan grinned evilly as he charged Koji. "We don't want MASC
anymore, Koji! You're time is over! Wrestling shall return to the good
old days and you can't stop it! BwaHAHAHAHA!"
Koji numbly snapped his arms to and fro in the MASC-crane-flapping-
the-wings defense... and to his horror, his slinky SNAPPED. He was so
stunned by this that Mr. Satan landed an elbow to Koji's temple easily
and painfully, smashing Koji's form around and against the ropes. Satan
kicked out sideways with his right, fracturing two of Koji's ribs with
his steel-capped boot. He shoved Koji hard against the ropes and leaned
into Koji with his great weight, his crossed arms at the base of Koji's
skull, choking Koji's neck against the ropes. He coughed blood as his
vision grew dim and breathing became nigh-impossible.
The audience was frighteningly silent. 'The Death Coil'
desperately tried to shout for the referee, but he could barely wheeze.
"Surprised? I sawed a small part of your slinky part of the way
through before the match. This will be hand-to-hand only... just like
it used to be. And the ref? He's being distracted... by the old-timer
pro wrestlers who've just stepped up to the ring." Mr. Satan sounded
almost regretful as he pushed Koji even harder against the ropes.
'The Death Coil' whimpered, "Why... My... friend... Why?"
Satan slammed his left knee repeatedly into the small of Koji's
back as he replied, punctuating his lines with painful strikes, "Sorry,
chum. The audience wants pro wrestling to be like it used to be...
before you messed it up with your self-righteous declarations of
Seriousness. They want to be entertained... real fighting is boring in
comparison, once the novelty of blood wore off. Most of it happens too
quickly for most of the audience to see it. It's too ugly for the new
generation of sensitive, discriminating viewers, who would probably faint
at the sight of their own blood. This will be the last match of that
type..."
He grabbed Koji's right arm, pulled back, and spun around, whipping
Koji hard into the corner post. Koji bounced off with a dull 'crunch' as
Satan approached again. Disoriented, Koji was helpless as Satan picked
him up easily, and slammed him hard, head-first into the canvass, with
Satan's considerable weight behind it. The pain was incredible,
especially on his back and ribs.
"1... 2... 3..." The dream of a Serious WCWF was over.
Fujiisawa was hospitalized for weeks after the match, and before he
could mobilize any response, his assets were seized, his girlfriend was
in Mr. Satan's arms, his name was no more in the WCWF, and the fans had
forgotten him completely. All the serious martial artists were summarily
kicked out of the WCWF, and never knew the reason why.
"Crippled, it took me years to get back to prime fighting
condition... And then, Mr. Satan was the savior of the world, and richer
than Sin, so rich that I couldn't even get through his hordes of
bodyguards. But now, I've constructed the Slinky of ALL slinkies, and no
cybernetically-enhanced, muscle-bound security guard's going to stop me
from getting my revenge on that traitorous rat." The balding man's
forearms bulged with corded muscle as he wrung his linen napkin in his
hands so hard that it creaked, threatening to tear.
"Easy, Mr. MASC man," Neil soothed him, palms up in a peaceful,
reassuring gesture. Of course, he didn't remember Mr. Satan ever being
in the WCWF, but this poor man's story seemed so real... Neil always had
a soft spot for losers. "It would do no good for you to have a heart
attack before you took your vengeance... relax. Have a peach."
Koji bit down hard, somehow contriving to talk even as the peach
juice streamed about his mouth and down his bristly chin, "Yes... Yes,
you're right... You'll help me, won't you?" He turned his wide,
hopeful, pitiful eyes to the thinner man.
"Of course I will, old man... of course I will..."
Meanwhile, in a somewhat dimly lit lecture hall in one of the older
and more... aged... buildings on campus, all was quiet. Except for the
slow, deep breathing (and periodic snoring!) of the only two occupants
remaining. Goten and Mari slept, her head resting on his shoulder, his
resting on her head, the victims of too many pieces of coffee candy, too
little sleep, and too many cups of cup noodles. Unconsciously, he'd slid
his arm about her waist as it was starting to feel cramped. They leaned
just a little closer together, and Mari sighed contentedly in her dreams.
Yamcha glanced at his watch. He glanced at the door. He glanced
at his feet. He took in the panoramic view of his dojo. He stretched
out his arms with a loud popping sound originating from his shoulders.
His joints creaked a bit as he lowered himself into a split, and brought
his legs together again from the split to stand. He sighed. He glanced
at his watch again. He glanced at the door again. He glanced at his
feet again.
The cycle repeated itself a few times.
At last, Yamcha leaned against the back wall of the room, and
slowly slid down into a slumped position. He twiddled his fingers
mercilessly.
His quiet thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching
footsteps, and his heart began to beat faster with every approaching
step. He leaped to his feet, and quickly rearranged his meticulous hair-
do.
A confused-looking, spectacled skinny person dressed in the
standard white polo, black slacks and black shoes walked in, carrying a
bag that looked rather heavy with books.
Yamcha suddenly appeared beside him in a furious rush of wind and
yanked him into the dojo, while he attacked with a relentless barrage of,
"Young man, you have made the best decision of your life by choosing to
enroll in my dojo - martial arts is the way to go! Martial arts will
make you a healthier, stronger, more impressive man among men! Watch as
rock-hard muscle develops on your formerly-scrawny arms!" He smiled,
presenting an impressively dignified front as he continued, "Young man,
you'll be able to stagger your friends with incredible feats like this!"
he levitated a foot above the ground, took out a gun, shot at the window
and caught the bullet with his hand halfway before it would have struck
the window. Yamcha was glad his carefully rehearsed speech was going so
well... "When do you want to start?"
"Huh? WHAT! Wait! I..." the futile effort of the student to get
in a word ended abruptly as Yamcha grasped him by the shoulders, and
quickly but firmly pushed him down into a crouching position.
"The first thing you'll learn is stance! Then how to fall! Then
how to hit! Then how to take hits! Before you know it you'll be dishing
out punishment like a high-school principal in a bad mood!" At last,
Yamcha ran out of breath. "So will you be coming the recommended three
days a week or will you choose to go for the faster, more intense
everyday training schedule of the champions?"
"Uhmm... I'm a freshman and..."
"I see! Well, that's a good decision! Though harder on the body
and mind, nothing will toughen you up faster than the everyday training
regime that I will design especially for your body type and time
constraints! So will you be coming for the morning, or evening class?"
Yamcha desperately smiled, attempting to look his best as he flexed his
powerful muscles.
"...uhm... morning..." The student gave up.
"Great! Now the first thing we do at every session is stretching!
It relaxes the body and mind and prepares you properly for the rigorous
session ahe-... excuse me a moment," Yamcha quickly picked up the
student by his shoulders, set him down gently outside, and closed the
door after the fast striding, striking countenance of Andrea stepped in.
Finally outside, the student murmured as he shifted uncomfortably
from foot to foot, "I was just looking for a restroom..."
"I see you've come upon your first student." Andrea turned about,
examining the photos on the wall of Yamcha's various martial arts
achievements. "What's this?" she indicated a picture of him in a
baseball uniform carrying a bat.
"Oh... well, um. Back in my long-haired days, I once played pro
baseball for a short period of time. I needed the money and anyway, it's
easy to hit the dumb ball after you reach a certain level in the Art...
I mean, I can catch bullets fired from a machine gun with my bare hands -
it would pretty silly if I had a hard time hitting a baseball with a bat.
Didn't last very long. I liked to brawl a little too much. I did get
enough money so that I wouldn't have to worry about work for a really
long time..." Yamcha cracked his knuckles quietly. "I mean, with my
lifestyle, I don't really need much money, so I only take the occasional
job when it strikes my fancy."
"Like this job?"
"Well, er, uhh... In truth..." he bit his lip, "the only reason I
started working here was to keep an eye on you..."
"Aaah... well... Our friend Mr. Son asked you, huh?" Andrea
looked vaguely disappointed.
"Actually, I volunteered." Yamcha used his incredible training and
physical control to keep the capillaries in his cheeks from dilating,
with no small effort. "I, uh, was fascinated... by you. And the girl,
of course." He nearly slapped himself. After all these years, the
presence of women still made thinking difficult for Yamcha... Although,
all things considered, he'd improved a lot. At least he no longer
dissolved into a quivering mass of jelly. And since Bulma, well... he'd
been pretty reluctant regarding women in that way again for years. That
is, until now. Of course, getting nagged about it day and night by one's
shape-shifting room-mate could make anyone change his mind, eventually.
"Uh... Lunch? I mean... Have you eaten? I'm all right as cooks
go... Really. That is if you don't have too much to do this afternoon.
Jeez, that sounded like a really dumb pick-up line, didn't it?" Yamcha
laughed inanely. "You must think me a dirty old man, asking you like
this... Do you want to go? Please?" He looked out of the window, at
the blue skies above, running his fingers through the gray streak in his
hair. He remembered how her still, warm form felt in his arms.
Andrea cocked her head to the left, and her eyes were surprisingly
warm even though her voice was stern and cold. "You're right, you
pervert. What would the faculty think, a respectable, young, up and
coming professor like me seeing a middle-aged bum?"
Yamcha felt crushed, until he looked at the deep, smiling mystery
in her eyes.
"Of course I'll go with you. Sometimes, a girl likes to be seen
with a distinguished-looking older man." The smile finally reached her
mouth, and her eyes laughed. Gohan was right. It might be years before
Arien would at last wake. She had to realize that. "Oh dear, did I just
say that? How scandalous." She held her hand to her mouth. "I guess
it's too late for me to back out, isn't it?" She offered her arm.
"Well... Only if you don't mind being seen with the decrepit."
"Oh, indeed not. Besides," she pinched his right bicep, "I'd
hardly call this the arm of the decrepit. Oh, what about your student?"
"Hmm? Let him wait..."
The lights streamed by. An endless number of them, as he passed by
hundreds and hundreds upon thousands of worlds. He could feel his
essence brushing by them, sense other sentients dancing by his soul, just
barely touching his passing form. Aliens on nameless worlds felt a
strange moment of cold.
"Yes, you are going in the right direction. But shouldn't you be
going back? They are waiting for you. To finish your tasks. I am
waiting as well... The universe waits... while you travel on a whim."
"I will not stop now."
Outside, the rain started to fall.
"Hmm... Are they not going to call off the fight?" Anju glanced
outside.
Trunks chewed his food almost delicately. He swallowed. "Of
course they're not going to stop. They'd continue even if a volcano
started going off five feet away. They're both kind of stubborn that
way. Although I have to say that Nik is better than Yuu any day. At
least Nik isn't constantly seeing every guy as a challenger and every
girl as a future conquest." He drank some water.
"Actually," he continued, "Nik's really an insecure sort of guy at
heart. I feel sorry for him, sometimes."
Anju broke in, "He's insecure like you used to be?"
"Yeah, he's just like I used to b.... HEY! Don't put words in my
mouth!" Trunks almost stood in anger, which burst like so delicate a
bubble of fury poked by the relentless needles of realizing the futility
of it all.
"Eh, you're just embarrassed." Anju's face was passive,
expressionless.
"Can we please not talk about me? I don't need you picking out and
disassembling my personality on the first DAY!" Trunks' lost composure
showed as he started shoveling food into his mouth faster, and faster.
"So, this Ami... she's your girlfriend?" Anju paused to eat her
ice cream. There wasn't really any way in which one can eat ice cream
while retaining an air of absolute control and dead-seriousness, but she
managed it.
Trunks' expression grew cloudy as he fumbled awkwardly with his
chopsticks. "Wa-ell... Not yet... I've at least gotten her to think
about it, you know? If only she'd get over her thing for Goten."
As she spooned the last of her dessert into her mouth, she sighed
contentedly, breaking her stiff, statue-like expressionlessness. Anju
delicately slid the dollop of ice cream about her mouth with her tongue,
savoring the taste and smell of vanilla, letting it slowly melt and drip
down the back of her throat before swallowing the last of it. She got as
much as possible out of her ice cream - she wasn't allowed to have any
before at the Facility. It didn't fit into the Standard Training
program. "Ahhhhh... Iiiiiice-creammmmm..." She switched back into her
impassive, mannequin-like mode, her lips barely moving as she continued,
" The Great Saiyaman III, huh?"
Trunks snorted. "What a ridiculous name! Those dumb mirror-shades
he borrowed from Gohan..." Trunks collected himself. "I mean, couldn't
it at least be an original name?"
"I detect resentment... How are things between the two of you - I
mean, are you friends or what?"
"Of course we're friends," he almost snapped, "And don't suggest
that I'm envious of that bum's fifteen minutes of fame. I can still beat
him in a fight any day of the week. And it's not like any of the
students at the university realize he's the most popular teen figure
today, anyway. Why am I telling you this stuff?" He struck his temple
with an open palm. "I barely know you."
"I was sort of the impromptu psychologist amongst the combat
members of the Program. I have gotten a lot of practice at being a good
listener. From my analysis," her voice was monotonous, droning, oddly
comforting in its own way... But was he imagining the concern in her
eyes? Those strange, pale sapphire eyes that were oddly familiar. A
kindred soul of sorts... "You also desperately wish that you could have
some of your original relationship with Ami back - you miss being able to
talk to her like a brother to his sister, now that there is tension
between the two of you because of your revealing how you felt about her.
And your 'brother' - Goten, is growing distant from you. Because, Sir
Prince, you are lonely for the friends you used to have, and I am a
convenient outlet for you."
Trunks spluttered, dropping the spring roll that he was about to
shove into his mouth. "Lonely? Me? That's the dumbest..."
She elbowed him hard in the gut, causing him to break off, choking.
The blow packed enough energy to pulverize a brick wall, but, as she knew
quite well, the most it could do was cause him to lose his breath. "Tsk,
tsk. I caught you with your defenses down again. Very careless. And it
is hardly a 'dumb' idea. You took a risk, telling her what you did. You
wish that you could have the easy communication that you used to have
between the two of you. You miss your 'little sister' in her. And I bet
that my looking so young helps you to talk to me as well."
Trunks broke off his weakly attempted denial. That sounded a
little too right... uncomfortably so. He quickly tossed the half-dozen
spring rolls still on his plate into his mouth to cover that thought.
"Umm... Well, uh... So what was life like at the Facility?" He
perspired mightily.
She continued on relentlessly, "As a matter of fact, you feel that
you've lost all the people you could really talk to," she ignored his
pathetic attempt to change the subject. "And I'm a convenient person who
seems to care and is also uninvolved with the main sources of your
troubles."
Uncanny, Trunks thought nervously. It's almost as if she's poking
right through my thoughts... If she guesses about the nightmares too...
He shuddered.
Anju noticed that, and considered her options. Trunks had suddenly
looked miserable, and she realized that she'd reached the limit of his
willingness to talk about his troubles for today. "Tell me about this
Nik... is he a friend?"
Trunks was relieved to talk about something else. "Not really. I
just know him... and he's a little too sad and tragic a figure to be
real."
She leaned forward, "You jest?"
He shook his head. "He really only does two things in life.
Study, and train. He has no friends, and he doesn't exactly have to beat
back the hordes of women, you see... Actually..." Trunks hesitated. "I
really shouldn't tell you about him. If you want to, you could talk to
him after the fight... Maybe you'll have more luck with him. There's
something about him, in the way he walks, in the way he moves... Even
when he smiles at you, you can feel the depression hanging around him. I
don't know. He wouldn't talk to me, that time I tried to get to know
him... Normally, I wouldn't do anything of the sort, but... Well, he
really is such a pathetic fool. Sometimes, I think that the only reason
he fights with Yuu during the lunch hour is that it's the only form of
recreation he allows himself."
An idea sprung in the depths of his evil little heart. He turned
suddenly sneaky-looking eyes at her. "Say, what would your semi-mother
say to the idea of your going out on a date?"
"What do you mean by a 'date?' You mean the fruit? Is that some
strange reference to riding your car?" she seemed genuinely puzzled. "I
know that sometimes one refers to cars as 'lemons'..."
Trunks was annoyed. "C'mon, you robot - a date. When two people,
male and female, or maybe not so, but that's still standard, go to a
previously agreed-to-location to spend some time to grow closer
together."
"Aaaah!" she tilted her head and grinned a devastatingly cute
smile, "a DATE." Her back and shoulders relaxed as she giggled
uncontrollably, annoying the surprised Trunks to no end. Her eyes
widened as she leaned close to him, whispering conspiratorially into his
ears. "Why you scoundrel... Two girls at the same time?"
"Huh? WHAT? NO!" Trunks waved his arms in wild denial. "I meant
with HIM. Nik, I mean."
She caught him in the gut with yet another well-placed elbow. She
spoke clinically, dryly, emotionlessly, "Hmph, one morning with your new
'sister' and you're already trying to set her up with some loser. What
kind of a brother are you?"
The accusatory tone made him jump in his seat. "Brother? W-what
are you talking about!"
She sighed deeply, covering her face with her hands. "Sometimes,
you're sooo slow, Trunks-kun! Weren't you listening to anything I said?"
Her eyes suddenly flashed as she detected a rapidly incoming
threat. She covered her face with her crossed arms, and yelled,
"Yeeaaaahhh!" as she froze in apparent fear. She was sure that it was
too late... nothing could save her now...
Trunks blurred, instinctively placing his body between hers and the
perceived threat before he even knew what it was with Physics-defying
quickness. He managed to do this while striking an impressive, imposing
pose, showing of his fantastic form to good advantage. His voice was the
strong, dignified, commanding, take-charge kinda voice. "I'll protect
youuAAARRGGHHH!"
A frightened-looking guy stammered as he backed away, "Oops! S-
sorry! I tripped!" He fled.
Trunks seethed, his hands trembling as he barely kept a savage
scream from his throat. There was murder in his eyes. With a fantastic
demonstration of willpower, he managed to keep from transforming to Super
Saiyajin - he even managed to keep from summoning enough chi to destroy
the surroundings.
Anju giggled uncontrollably as she pointed at the steaming wet spot
on his designer slacks...
"WILL you STOP LAUGHING!" he turned his murderous gaze upon her,
helplessly clenching and unclenching his fists.
She didn't. It was the kind of laughter that took control of you
like a nasty virus mucking with your mother-board and shaking your file
allocation tables around by the force of its fury until you were left,
choking, spent like a car on an empty tank of gas. "...oh, oh" she
gasped. "Thank you for protecting me, my brave hero... that coffee
could have left a really nasty stain on this dress!" She took a better
look at the soaking area, realizing its compromising position. "Ya know,
I thought you hero types had better self-control!" she managed to refrain
from pointing at the incriminating wetness, although the laughter
threatened to break loose again.
He screamed.
"... well it could have been a threat! Acid! Or that neurotoxin
stuff you were talking about!"
"Yeah, yeah!" she smiled, giggling a bit. "I really appreciate it!
Honestly!" She choked it down as he looked like he began to gather steam
again. "You'll have to teach me how to get stains out so quickly!"
He grumbled, grinding his teeth a little. "Okay, so, back to what
we were talking about - are you going with him or not?"
"I dunno... sounds like a loser."
He rubbed the sore spot in his side where she'd been tagging him
with surprise attacks all morning as he responded defensively, "He's NOT
a loser... he's just. Um... Unhappy. Come on, you feel sorry for me,
right? Feel sorry for him, he needs it more. Just think about it."
Anju sniffed as she turned away. "Nah," she waved a hand
dismissively. "Don't feel like it. He looks too skinny."
"That's just because he's tall and wears baggy clothes. He's
actually rather buff, all things considered..."
"No, pfbpphhht!" she stuck out her tongue. "I've yet to go out on
a date with anyone at all and I'd rather my first one not be arranged by
someone I barely know."
She was like a little girl again, and for the life of him, Trunks
could not decide what distressed him more - when she acted like a machine
with a voice that was too old for her and observations that were too
accurate for his taste, or when she acted even younger than her real age
and attacked him with that... that... irritating cuteness! Then what
she said hit him.
Trunks eyes goggled. "You've never been on a date?"
"What do you expect - I've been living in a secret military
installation for the past six years!"
"In that case," Trunks drew in a deep breath, "I command you to do
it." His eyes were completely serious, and his posture screamed
'Imperious Rex.'
"WHAT?" she turned clock-wise as she shouted, aiming a vicious
right knife-hand at his right temple. Her wrist slammed painfully into
the forearm that wasn't there just a fraction of a second ago. She just
managed to keep from wincing.
"Your elder psuedo-bro thinks this would be a good, character-
building experience for you. I order you to accompany Nik this Friday to
the fifth annual Foolishly Timed Dance Party. Besides, I'm going,
Goten's going, Gohan's been invited, and just about all of your
bodyguards are going to be there." He smiled a toothy grin. "Heck, even
your 'mom' is going to be there."
"Wipe that smug expression off your mug!" Her left arm blurred as
she sent a powerful palm-strike towards his nose.
He caught her wrist with his right, and twisted it clockwise into a
rather painful kote-gaishi (wrist-turning-out) lock. Anju followed up
with a right jab, which Trunks also caught, and forced into the same lock
(this time in the other direction) with his other hand. She kept the
discomfort from her face, though forced to lean in at an awkward angle.
Trunks sighed. "Look, I know I'm terrible at asking... But I
really do think you should go. I'm just asking you to go with him as a
favor... Would it help if I said, please?" He released her.
Anju rubbed her wrists. "OK, so you managed to goad me into an
attack which you were expecting and could read a mile away, are you happy
now?" she snapped.
He fluttered his eyelashes at her in a strange attempt at a parody.
"Pretty please?"
She sighed, heavily, shoulders slumped forward in surrender.
"Fine. I'll go. But I'm only going with this loser of yours if he wins
against Yuu. And there's no way I'm wearing a stupid dress. Especially
not one like this." She tugged at the carnation frills.
Trunks raised his palms in supplication. "He'll win. And no, you
don't have to wear a dress. It's only as formal as you feel like. If it
weren't against the rules, there would probably be some people wearing
nothing at all... while another bunch would be completely over-dressed
in black ties and penguin suits. Seriously though, I'm glad you decided
to go." His grin stretched from ear to ear.
She paused as she stood. "Trunks," she looked suddenly small,
again disconcerting Trunks with a rapid change in posture, voice, tone
and expression. "What if he doesn't like me? And good Lord... I look
like a kid! Heck, I'm fifteen!"
Trunks' expression softened. "Don't worry about that. I know the
kind of guy Nik is. He'll be so amazed that you're going with him
willingly, he'll practically worship you for showing him even that much
attention. Besides, do you really think your 'bro' would set you up with
a loser/insensitive jerk?"
Anju clasped her hands loosely. "Thanks, I guess... and Trunks?"
she said his name ever so softly...
"What is it?"
Suddenly, he was staring at the ceiling, and his chair was in
pieces about him. He calmly clasped his hands under his head, and
whistled the notes for the chorus of 'Head Over Heels.' So he liked
oldie music. It was neat. Real classical stuff. Very relaxing, even
when you're lying on the floor.
Anju stalked out, raging. "That was for being an irritating, over-
bearing, manipulative older-brother-type-from-Hell! And are you coming
or not? I still want to watch the match!"
As the students for the first afternoon class slowly began to
trickle into the lecture room, Goten stirred. He peeled an eye open and
quickly took stock of the situation. A few of the students walking in
were looking at him and snickering. A few of the well known sorority
girls openly gawked. His right arm felt rather numb... as though the
circulation were a little cut off. He finally noticed the weight against
it, and heard her slow, even breathing beside him.
"Oh, dear," he whispered, reddening. He shook Mari gently with his
pinned arm. "Ah... Mari."
"Mmmmm...." she murmured, leaning into him even more as she draped
her arms about his shoulders.
"Mari," he spoke a little louder into her ear.
She contorted herself and pressed even closer. "Hmmm..." She
managed to get an eye open, gazing up at Goten's embarrassed expression.
"What?"
"Um. Our class is over. We appear to have slept... uh through
it." He nudged her a bit, pointing out the people looking at them with a
twitch of his nose.
She turned and glanced about. "So what?"
He coughed. "It doesn't bother you the way some of them are
looking at us?"
"Feh. Why should it matter? The 'sisters' from my sorority are
going to be a pain, but I only joined the darned thing one night when I
was bored and drunk. They're shallow people who don't know the
difference between the real losers they go out with, and the princes that
walk around in front of their upturned, powdered noses whom they choose
to ignore out of a mistaken sense of elitist class. Forget them." She
stood, stretching her arms up over her head, a series of pops and cracks
running along the joints she loosened up. "In the grand picture of life
- heck, even in the little picture of everyday living, they don't mean
anything important at all. Let's go watch the vocal groups performing
out on the Gates' plaza. They should be starting their annual spring
show."
Goten decided that if she could ignore the stares, so could he. He
found it strangely admirable that she could do so.
He yawned. "If I can stay awake... sure. Let's grab some coffee
on the way there."
The rain finally stopped.
"Say, aren't the teachers going to stop the fight?"
"Nah." Trunks indicated the group seated at a nearby table,
watching the struggle closely. "They have a betting pool run by Mr.
L****. Yuu's normally a three-to-one favorite, but Nik's been showing a
surprisingly good track record against him so far, so it's now even."
It looked like Nik was in trouble. He was breathing heavily, and
he seemed to be favoring his left leg.
Yuu unleashed a pyrotechnic barrage of spinning, turning, and
jumping kicks, forcing Nik into a defensive position. The huge fighter's
cloth-of-gold pants flashed painfully to the eye in the sunlight. The
thinner man leaned and wove desperately, choosing to dodge the attacks as
his bokken would probably shatter if he used it to block - Yuu's strength
was prodigious, and very little could match him force to force. Nik
crouched under a high-speed side-kick that struck the side of the
building, leaving hairline cracks in the concrete.
"Yuu's very good. Strong and fast," Anju observed. "Of course, I
could beat him in a sec. Aren't you worried that your depressed and
depressing acquaintance is going to lose this one?"
She winced as she saw Yuu successfully strike Nik with a right
forty-five kick to the kidney. Despite his attempt to roll with the
force, Nik was thrown a dozen feet away by the impact. He grunted,
losing his breath explosively as he landed with an awkward "OOF!"
"Wait," Trunks said. "It's hardly over yet."
Nik's ragged voice blurted out, "... Thy Kung Fu... 'Tis very
STRANGE!"
"That's RIGHT!" Yuu replied as he swept his right leg stylishly
from left to right before him. He charged in with a series of blurring
kicks - right roundhouse to left jumping turning side to right jumping
turning long to left roundhouse to right crescent kick and back again...
His feet barely touched the ground in a ceaseless whirlwind. He shouted
as he struck, "This is my family's secret NO-SHADOW-KICK!"
Several members of the audience gave a collective groan, though the
man in the pink suit screamed over them all: "L**** for senator!
Remember, folks, vote L**** for senator!"
Anju muttered. "Where'd that come from?"
Trunks muttered as well, "There was this Jet Lee memorial movie
marathon on channel 13 last night..."
"Ahh," she nodded in understanding.
"Ouch, that must sting." Trunks watched the bigger man landing one
in every five of his kicks upon Nik's person.
"Still think Nik will win?"
"Just watch."
Nik's arms and feet blurred in defensive footwork as he retreated
step by step, but he had a grim smile on his face as, unseen by most of
his audience, he continued to make his own moves... Yuu's features
abruptly twisted in surprise as his legs crumpled beneath him. With a
tremendous effort, he heaved himself back onto his feet. Still, he
swayed drunkenly, and the effort in standing was making him perspire
heavily.
"Thou cheatest! What didst thou DO?!!!" he snarled.
His slender opponent smiled as he held his wooden practice sword
off to the left, parallel to the ground, his feet pointing forty-five
degrees from each other, placed a foot and a half apart, left leg
straight and right bent at the knee. "Buffoon! Kicks are useless
against my Shaolin Wonder Palm... I doth mean, Shaolin Wonder... um,"
his eyes rolled with intense mental muscle-flexing, "...Blade! Yeah,
Shaolin Wonder Blade!"
The audience moaned again, and Mr. L**** persisted in his campaign
speech.
"And now..." Nik took a firm, two-handed grip. "There can only be
ONE!"
As he slashed diagonally from right to left in a heaven-to-earth
stroke, his opponent nimbly leapt to the rooftops in escape. "This match
I do concede to thee, nefarious Nik, but be warned, for I am the rising
champion of full contact freestyle DCI-sponsored tourneys, and I shall
return!"
The lamp-post that had been behind Yuu just before Nik's attack
leaned, and slowly fell over, having been severed by Nik's blow. It
struck Mr. L****, mercifully cutting off his tirade of "L**** for
senator!"
The crowd cheered wildly.
Anju turned to Trunks, "Okay, so he managed to hit Yuu's legs
twice..."
"Thrice, actually...." he interjected.
"... each time Yuu kicked... Fine. He won. I'll go with him.
But do you really think that I should be the one to ask him to go with
me?"
Trunks nodded. "He's too self-conscious to actually be the one to
ask. Besides, Ms. Super-Soldier surely isn't scared of being the one to
initiate it?" he sneered.
She looked small again as she concentrated on watching her index
fingers pushing against each other. "Of course n-not... I'm not sca-
ared... Yaaaa!" she jumped, twitching and blushing.
While she was distracted, Trunks had used that incredible super-
speed to bring the subject of their discussion right beside her. "I'll
get something to drink, be right back." Trunks waved, grinning as he
disappeared back into the canteen, abandoning his charge to Nik.
"What hast thou... Excuse me a moment, I always have to think
about changing the way I talk back to normal after one of those fights.
I am Nik, team captain of the kendo varsity team. Trunks tells me you're
a new student here?" His face was oval, with somewhat plain looking
brown hair, a nose that stuck out a little too far, and thin, serious
lips. But his eyes were an intriguing shade of green, and his deep,
gravelly voice compensated for his appearance nicely, thought Anju.
"Uhm." She turned red, then a little pale as she thought about
what she would put her sort-off bro through for tossing her unprepared
into the midst of a fray... it helped to think about it in terms of a
battle... sort of. She realized that nearly a minute had passed, and
she still hadn't said anything. "Uhm. So... You've been studying kendo
for very long?" She wanted to shrink into the pavement, or hit
herself... or better, hit Trunks. It was a dumb line of approach, but
she supposed that it was the safest. It was also the only one she could
think of at the time. Her education did not really involve this sort of
thing.
"Why, what gave you that idea?" his expression was totally sincere.
Ami's steps were weary as she climbed down the ten flights of
stairs from her lab class. When, at last, she emerged into the warm
fresh air, she stopped, taking in the view of the setting sun. The
engineering building was situated at the top of the hill where the campus
was located, and looking down at the rest of the world painted in shades
of sparkling red gold by the rays of the sun, Ami felt something tugging
at her quiet heart. She sighed as she stared into the distance. The
moment froze.
She saw, at least, she thought she saw, a tall girl with
unmistakable waist-length lavender hair in the distance, stirring in the
faint breeze. At Mari's side was the relatively indistinct figure of
Goten. Ami shook her head. As undistinguished Goten looked from a
distance as he was, there was something within her that could recognize
and find him instantly, slouching posture and all. Mari and he... They
were not touching, but even from here, Ami could feel the... intimacy (it
could only be called that, she thought)... between them. It was visible
in how closely they walked next to each other, in the shy glances and
looks they'd share... the way their hands would reach to each other, and
almost touch...
They turned around the corner of a distant building and could no
longer be seen.
Had she just imagined that?
Ami hadn't talked to Mari since the camping trip... She wondered -
just how jealous was she of her taller friend?
After Trunks had taken her flying (flying! It was unbelievable!
The most frightening, heart-pounding, and utterly wondrous experience!
In the mighty arms of her close friend, who just happened to be a prince
- literally!), they'd talked for a long, long while.
He explained a little about their alien origin, but that was not
what occupied her mind now.
In a calm, steady voice, Trunks had told her how he'd felt about
her for so very long. She was sitting down, perched on a convenient
boulder at the very top of the tallest mountain in the range, and eh was
standing, looking up to her with his serious eyes, clean-cut features and
regal bearing, with just a hint of a blush to his cheeks.
She wondered at how it had taken her so long to notice how
perfectly handsome Trunks was... In that red light of the sunset, so
brilliant in the clean country air, he looked every bit the god - his
perfectly-proportioned, chiseled torso revealed by the tears his clothing
had sustained when he'd earlier fought against Goten.
There was an irresistible force, a commanding presence he'd
presented as he spoke the simple words that explained it all. A complex,
intricate web of thoughts and emotions reduced to the singular force of
his words. "Ami... I want you. I've wanted you ever since we first met
and you crashed into my car..." Almost whispering, it was as if he'd
shouted. "Even longer..."
She'd tried to talk him out of it - he knew how she felt about
Goten after all. How she'd always thought of Trunks as a friend. Almost
a brother. How could he expect her to just change and deal with such a
radically altered situation? She didn't know if she could even feel that
way for him.
"Ami, once, a few years ago, I was painfully shy - self-conscious
of everything about myself - my being short, my cracking voice... There
was this girl I saw studying everyday at the school library. She had
deep blue, shining hair, and the prettiest smile. I also knew that she
was smart - she won all the school academic competitions and she was an
artist, too. I found out where she lived, and everyday, when she'd walk
home, I'd follow in the air, dodging and jumping from rooftop to rooftop,
tree to tree. I thought she was the most wonderful creature in all the
world. And you know, I always promised myself that I'd approach her one
day and just talk to her. Of course, I kept putting it off. What did
you expect? It was so much easier this way, to just admire her from a
distance, and dream of her at night. Until the day she moved, and I
followed her home no longer."
His eyes swiveled to hers and held them, magnetic, undeniable.
"When you crashed into my car during driving school," he smiled,
"and I realized, 'Good God almighty! It's her! What a... Providential
coincidence!' I was glad that I could at last keep my promise."
"If you'll remember, I talked to you, and offered to treat you to
lunch to show that there were no hard feelings about the car."
He looked away to the sunset. "Imagine how happy I was when you
said, 'yes.' I'm not letting you get away again, Ami. At least, not
that easily," he chuckled, mostly at himself. "So when I found out your
attraction to my best friend in the whole world, my childhood companion
and brother in every way but name and lineage... well..."
He started to pace back and forth, staring at his feet. "Ami, you
wanted Goten to take a chance on you, even if you suspected that he liked
someone else. You talked about how it felt to feel for someone whom you
thought felt nothing for you. Well," he stopped, again leveling his
penetrating gaze upon her. "... I'm asking you, right now, to take a
chance on ME. I could make you so very happy... And we talk to each
other so easily, and we're already good friends... I know of no better
basis for a lasting relationship than friendship, and..." he stopped, his
show of confidence finally wearing on him. "Please, Ami... tell me that
you'll at least consider giving me that chance that you, yourself,
wanted..."
He'd shed the regal manner and had looked so very vulnerable at the
end. How could she think of hurting a friend? What could she do? She
thought about it.
Oh, my dear, dear Trunks... For that speech and for being my
friend alone at those times I needed you most, I feel that I should love
you... How cruel is fate that I don't. Everybody would have their happy
ending if I did. Or maybe not, because I know that Mari does feel
something for you... But still... I would like to 'like' you, Trunks.
Maybe even love you... When Mari came up to me at the end of the camping
trip and asked me for permission to chase Goten... How could I not give
you your chance?
---- end episode 9
So, whatdjya people out there think of my little 'fic series so far?
Some of you may be wondering whether or not the change of pace in the
story is intentional or accidental. It's very intentional, and almost
planned, even. Actually, it really was planned from the very beginning.
It's all a part of my devious and deviant scheme =) I hope you folks out
there have liked it, and will continue to do so.
And remember folks, if you want to catch the previous episodes, visit the
Nikholas F. Toledo Zu webpage.
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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The logo of the Church of All Worlds is nine concentric circles.
Word from the Laity: Wipe yer feet! Bloody 'ell...
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