Okay as much as I loved Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero, I was actually so mad when Trunks and Goten screwed up the fusion. Like y’all had the perfect opportunity for some badass older Gotenks moments but nooooo, you decided to waste it

Yamcha if you're still doing the character meme?

I am still doing these, and I’m enjoying it, so keep ‘em coming.   Before I start, let me promote the original post, in case anyone else wants to start their own thing.  I’d link to the OP, but I guess they deleted this from their blog, probably because their notifications went nuts.

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: Let’s be honest, Yamcha doesn’t get a lot of big “hero moments” in Dragon Ball.   Or Dragon Ball Z, or Dragon Ball GT, or Dragon Ball Su-- Look, you get the idea.   In most arcs, he’s the first one to get benched.   In tournaments, he always loses in the first round.   He spent the King Piccolo Saga recovering from a broken leg.    Against the Saiyans, he was the first one to die.  Against the Androids, he was nearly killed and had to sit out the rest of that arc.   In the Buu Sagas he was retired.    In a number of major storylines, he just isn’t there, because no one called him.

But he remains a fixture in the franchise anyway, because he’s always showing up for more.  Let’s take the Buu Saga as an example.   It didn’t surprise me to find out he had retired, mainly from a dramatic standpoint.    There’s a lot of new characters in the Buu arc, and it made sense for some of the older characters to step aside and make room for them.   But he’s still there, because he wants to see Goku one last time, and he wants to hang out with his friends and watch some of them kick the crap out of each other.   It was kind of sad to see him stay behind while the others rushed off to follow the Supreme Kai, but he’s retired, after all.    Also, they didn’t stop to fill him in on what was happening.    I suspect he might have tagged along if they asked.  

As it was, he still ended up getting involved, and he was with the Dragon Team right up until Super Buu cornered them on the Lookout.     And the next time we see him, he’s on the Grand Kai Planet with Krillin, and King Kai seriously considers sending them in to take on Buu in case Goku and Vegeta can’t get the job done.   

And that’s a big deal, because it even comes up in the anime.   King Kai tells them that he arranged for them to keep their bodies as a precaution, but he’s totally in favor of letting them remain on the Grand Kai Planet with all of the other honored warriors, like Goku.  So you start with this desert bandit, a highwayman without a highway, probably because he’s afraid of all the women that use the interstate.   But he gradually overcomes his fears and insecurities, never completely, but just enough to put one foot in front of the other and become a better man.    And finally he ends up receiving a place among the great heroes of old.  

So why doesn’t that get more attention?   You could make a whole epic story out of that, except it’s not Yamcha’s story.  He’s a supporting character.   So the franchise itself tends to play it down.    Even Yamcha doesn’t really take it all that seriously.   I don’t know if that’s modesty or cluelessness or Big Himbo Energy or what, but that’s why it’s so easy for everyone to write him off as a loser or a failure.   They’re overlooking the bigger picture.

The best way to illustrate this is with this TFS short that serves as an epilogue to their DBZ Abridged series.   Yamcha goes back to playing baseball for the Taitans, only to get fired, because he’s so talented that he’s literally broken the game, and no one buys tickets anymore.    But he gets a gigantic severance package, and he still goes down in history as the greatest ballplayer in history.  What always gets to me is that they have to explain to him that this is actually a win.  As his coach puts it, “you do nothing but win.”   

Like Yamcha himself, we often see him from the lens of these insane Dragon Ball adventures, where you have to have glowy hair and a hot cyborg wife to be considered a success.   But to the rest of the world, he’s a jacked up millionaire with fantastic hair, and he’s a real sweetheart.   Who couldn’t like this dude?

Why I don’t: As you may have noticed, I tend to only use this section to talk about why I disliked the characters initially.   I have to think back to 1999 when I was still having trouble keeping track of who’s who.   In particular, I found Yamcha’s presence frustrating because he looked and dressed almost exactly like Goku, but not quite, which seemed bizarre.    Later, I picked up on the context, and it didn’t bother me as much.  

Yamcha does have a bit of an overconfident streak in some situations, which might look like unfounded arrogance, but I think it’s really just his carefree nature and enthusiastic can-do spirit.   He was confident about their chances against the Saiyans, but I don’t think that was him being cocky.   He just knew they had all trained hard and he was stronger than he’d ever been.    But that’s easy for people to jump on as a reason to hate the guy.  

Future Trunks claimed that he fooled around while he was involved with Bulma, but come on.    Does anyone really buy that?    Besides, at best, that would only apply to Future Yamcha, the one who died in the other timeline.   Once Trunks changed the past, all bets were off.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): I’m gonna get a little nuts here and go with TFS’s playthrough of Legacy of Goku I, where they decided to level up Yamcha and have him solo Broly.

Basically, in an RPG game like this, Wolf Fang Fist can do monster damage, so they maxed out Yamcha’s stats to wreck the game’s hidden superboss.  You have to skip to 1:40:00 or so to see the successful attempt, but I loved this video.   This is where I learned to respect the utterance of “Roga... fufuken!”  Broly probably would have respected it, too, except he died from all those hits he took.

Favorite season/movie: You know, that fight with Tien was a classic.   Not sure it’s in my top ten, but it’s on a lot of people’s lists, and I absolutely get that.

Dumb as it may sound, I enjoyed seeing Yamcha in the hospital, wrestling with his own despair as he recuperated from his broken leg.   And when he shows up at the end to congratulate Tien and accepts Tien’s apology, well, like I said, Yamcha has this great character arc, but it’s easy to overlook with everything else that goes on.

Favorite line: I forget which game it was in, maybe Budokai 3, but one of his pre-fight taunts is “Watch this, Puar!  I’m gonna win!”, which always makes me think of Puar sitting just off-camera, watching the action from a little lawn chair.  

Favorite outfit:

I may take some heat for this, but I like the Androids/Cell Saga version of Yamcha, with the short, spiky hair.  This dude’s long, luxurious rockstar ‘do is a national treasure, sure, but I dig this look more.  

Also, I consider Yamcha to be the only guy from the Turtle School who pulls off the slippers and no-blue-undershirt look.   It looks off when I see it on Krillin and Goku, but with Yamcha it just feels right. 

OTP: This guy gets shipped with a lot of people, probably because he’s one of the major characters without an established love interest.   Folks still carry a torch for Bulma, some people ship him with Tien, Frieza hit on him in FighterZ, and I’m still trying to make sense of that.   He flirts with your character in the Xenoverse games.    Years ago, I considered doing something with that, but I’ve fleshed out my OC enough to where I don’t think that fits. 

At the end of the day, I can only see Yamcha getting together with @cozymochi ‘s OC, Marzi.  

Brotp: Tien, Krillin, Goku.  Hell, I always figured Yamcha was one of the few people Vegeta could get along with to some extent.  

I mean, Tien couldn’t stand to be one the same planet as Vegeta, but Yamcha keeps coming over to have hot dogs at Bulma’s place, long after the Namekians have left.  

Head Canon: He’s Luffa’s type, don’t get me wrong.    I just don’t see any room in my fic for a whirlwind courtship.    The stars just don’t align.

Unpopular opinion: I’m not really behind this notion that they should give the humans more stuff to do in future series.   When it comes to supporting characters, sometimes they get phased out, and there’s no point in phasing them back in unless there’s a compelling story idea for them.   

I think it’s dumb how they teased Yamcha in the Tournament of Power prelude, only to leave him out of the tournament itself.    On the other hand, they put Tien on the team and barely used him, which tells me that even if they’d put Yamcha on the team, it wouldn’t have amounted to anything.   

I get it, people love these characters and want to see them used more, but I’d rather have one strong Yamcha story than a hundred non-starters.  And at this point, I think the only thing anyone can do is rely on fan-created content.    Be the change you want to see in the world.

A wish: Crap, it’s after ten pm.    I dunno, I wish Marzi was canon.  

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I feel like the character’s already been through worse than I could come up with for him.   

5 words to best describe them: Cat loves food, yeah yeah yeah.   That’s six, but who cares?

My nickname for them: Yeah, I don’t have one.

@bearandbirdfan Thanks for your patience! Here’s the Gohan-Videl piece you requested!

“You want me to do what?”

Gohan winced, visibly and while he did a good job not actively giving away what he was up to, Bulma was a mother. She could see that nervousness from a mile away and when Gohan tried the puppy dog eyes on her, she was certain there was only one explanation.

“Gohan...do you have a girl with you?”

It should not have been biologically possible for a face to turn so red and maybe Bulma should have felt bad but her giddiness easily overrode that emotion. Gohan was like her nephew and he had a GIRL?! Why hadn’t ChiChi told her?

“Oh, Kami, you DO! You’re trying to impress a girl!!”

“Shh!!” His command was sharp but lacked any potency. “Bulma, I promise, it’s not what you think!”

Oh but she was all giggles now. “Gohan’s branching out! He’s getting a girlfriend!” She stopped amid her celebrating and eyed him critically. “Tell me—what exactly are you planning to DO if I get Vegeta out of that gravity room, eh?”

Gohan’s look mirrored a sighted deer. “Uh...train? What else do you do in there?”

Now it was her turn to bleach to a blood red shade. “Ne-never mind! Right...you’re Goku’s kid.” She shook her head but remarked, “I best hear ALL the juicy details later.” But she turned on her heels and vanished down the hall.

Sliding to the ground with a great sigh, as if all the bones had been sucked from his body, Gohan sent his companion a look and she peered around the corner. “Hope you appreciate this, Videl.”

She didn’t seem bothered, if anything she looked amused. Gohan was pretty sure that he’d prefer she be annoyed. “I coulda just asked her myself, you know. I mean, I’m pretty sure Bulma Briefs is one of the few celebrities I haven’t met.”

Gohan snorted. “Naw. We never would have gotten anywhere if you asked. Your dad isn’t very popular around here.”

Oh, wrong thing to say. A fierce fire erupted in her eyes and he’d have been wrong if he said her twin pigtails didn’t suddenly bounce up and down with the wave of her fury. “What? Why? My dad is the reason Cell is gone! They could at least be grateful for that! All those other fighters were using tricks! Did they...” she stopped, blinked at Gohan.

His eyes were hard. Cold. Angry. It wasn’t a look she saw on him very often. But then, she supposed even he could get angry and she was asking him to teach her these supposed ‘tricks.’

“Well, maybe not everything your father told you was true.” Gohan’s voice was heavy. “My father was at the Cell Games. My father DIED at the Cell Games. He didn’t die to be called a fraud.”

Ah. Now, his fire made sense. She was still learning so much about this strange boy. “Gohan, I didn’t mean to say that your father was a fake. I mean...you obviously have been trained. I just meant...well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I meant. But I didn’t mean to insult anyone.”

Gohan didn’t answer her but a moment later, the door to gravity room opened and Bulma was dragging Vegeta out by his arm, babbling about something. She caught his eye for a brief moment and gave a nod. Then in a swift movement of red skirt, the human woman had rushed the Saiyan a Prince down the hall.

Gohan eyed Videl as he stood. “Well, you wanted a training challenge. So let me show you one.”

OOO

“It’s hot in here.”

Gohan nodded and approached the control panel. “Side effect of all the machinery. That helps too though. Heat zaps strength. So if you can endure that, you’re stronger than you think.”

Videl stood firm, legs apart and arms folded. The pinnacle of her impatience that Gohan had learned to recognize. But he was in a different element here than at school or even outside. His father had pounded it into his head in the Time Chamber—it would be hard, it would be difficult and anything less than respect for it would end in disaster.

That’s what he conveyed to Videl. “This can be dangerous, Videl. We have to do it slowly especially since you’ve never gravity trained before.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me, Gohan.” Her tone was certain. “Don’t you use any kid gloves one me.”

“I won’t.” That much he promised as he turned the machine to 5 times normal gravity. “But I’m not going to crush you either.”

After a moment, Videl sank to her knees. She gave a low little gasp of surprise and stared at Gohan, “Is...this the gravity you talked about?”

“No.” He answered honestly. “It’s five times normal gravity. I use up to five hundred if you push me.”

“...wha..?”

“Just focus on standing up.” He interrupted her. “Take it one foot at a time, real slow. Do you know basic katas?”

Videl took a breath then another and yet another as she finally made her way back to her feet. When Gohan had said gravity training, her mind had automatically gone to the strength her father always showed off. Surely, that was equivalent, wasn’t it?

It appeared not. Not by a long shot. Breathing was hard but she gave a nod in answer to Gohan’s inquiry.

“Start with those. Gotta get you used to moving in here before we can really do anything.”

It made sense. That was basic logic. You had to be able to walk before you could kick. And right now, she wasn’t even sure if she could lift her foot off the ground to go forward.

But she would. Even if she had to pull it upward with her hands! She would! She had to! If Gohan could do this, she could too!

—

Gohan tried not to act like he was watching her but it was hard. His ears were fine tuned. He could hear the pressure that went into every single breath she drew. Oh, she put up a hard face but that kind of breathing was when you were strained. Struggling.

And her heart.

He could hear it. Pounding behind her ribs. Fast, harsh and desperate.

And why not? He’d just helped her throw it into a catastrophe. This wasn’t like Dad or Krillin where they’d been eased into it over years or even himself—where the trials of battle had activated his Saiyan genes and training had refined them.

This wasn’t like that at all.

“I know you wanna plow ahead, Videl. But you can’t do that in here.” He tries to stay as even key as he could. It was hard though. Sometimes, he damned his Saiyan hearing. Why was he so focused on her heartbeat?

He was never focused on Goten’s or Piccolo’s or when Father was alive, he never focused that much on theirs. Not ever.

But every thud that her heart made sounded like a cymbal crash to him. As if it was the only thing he could hear. “It’ll hurt you if you do. Your body has to know how to handle this. It’s like acclimation.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Hard. Fast. Unyielding. When she slammed a foot forward, it jumped, a microsecond of a jump. Faster. Trying to compensate.

“If you try too much or too fast, your body’s shut down. It finds...ways.”

But he was half Saiyan. Piccolo was Namekian. Dad had been full Saiyan. Shut down was different for them...for him...

A twisted ankle, a torn ligament, total exhaustion.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

But Videl. Her body was human. And not hardened, tempered human like Krillin or a Yamcha or Tien. Her body would give and break.

Like twigs or water against soil.

He’d seen what human bodies did under pressure though he loathed to remember it. It was not a sight that left your eyes easily. He didn’t like to picture it. Skulls that crumbled like sand. Bones that snapped and gave way. Veins that collapsed and organs that failed.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A gasp, a wheeze, a shuddering breath.

Sweat drenched Videl’s clothing and all she was doing was standing up, struggling to walk. Her eyes were already watering and one of those vessels had already popped.

No. No more of this. The sound...

Gohan turned the panel off. It made that lovely whirling sound when you brought it down as quickly as was safe. It was harsh on the system but Gohan didn’t want to wait. The way she was breathing and her heartbeat...

Videl hit the ground hard, her muscles nearly screaming in relief as the tons of extra pressure gradually faded away. After a moment, her breathing came easier and she found the gumption to glare at the teenage boy offering her his hand. Slapping it away, she stood though trembled and shook as she did so.

“What the hell, Gohan?!”

“Not ready.” He said simply. “Your body’s not ready.”

“Not read—I’ve been training under my dad since I was a kid!”

“It’s not enough.” Gohan hardened his voice. “Be mad at me all you want but I’m not gonna wait for your heart to explode!”

She stared, backed up, one hand over her chest. “I’m in better shape than that.”

“I could hear it. Your body isn’t ready. We need to build it up first. I should have done that in the first place.”

Videl’s hands clenched. “What is THAT supposed to mean?”

“It means your body will crack like an egg if we keep this up! It means that I can’t stand to hear your heart trying not to implode! It means I CARE what happens to you!”

The room went deathly quiet and the two just stared at one another—Videl pale and slack jawed and Gohan red faced and trembling.

“Let-let’s go.” Gohan strode past her, a beeline for the door. “If you want to build yourself up for this, fine but you’re not ready for this yet.”

Videl, after a moment, rather touched by the emotion in his voice, followed. “So...can you help me get to that point, Gohan?”

He took a heavy breath and looked at her. Hair forced loose, face still patchy with exertion but so full of passion, spunk and fire. He...he didn’t want to see anything happen to her but that flame, that burning desire in her eyes...it did something for him. Something he’d never felt before and he honestly couldn’t even describe what it was.

But the prospect of her growing stronger, wiser and truly realizing the kind of fighter she could become made him all kinds of giddy.

“In small steps, Videl. Small steps.”

She reached over, grasped his hand and said, “So I can expect my first lesson at your place tomorrow, then?”

“...yes, Ma’am.”

Entwined

So I figured, as part of Chestnutfest’s free day, it seems as good a time as any to unveil that new fic I’ve been working on! Part of me had always wondered what might happen if Krillin had met “Lazuli” beforehand, and how that might affect his path in life. Would he be much different? Very different? More or less confident? And so, I decided to explore that with this story. So here we are, the prologue to yet another new work. lol Hope you enjoy!

“Keep it moving, shrimp!”  Krillin groaned under the weight of several heavy boxes strapped to his back as he and two other students of Orin marched through East City. When his upperclassmen had offered to bring him with them on their supply run for the Temple, he'd jumped at the opportunity; it had seemed, after years of teasing and bullying, that maybe some of them were starting to accept him! It didn't take long for him to learn his role as a pack mule.  And all the treatment that came with it.  The shorter monk gave him a swift kick to the rear and Krillin yelped. “Move it, you little runt! We're gonna be late!” “All this stuff is heavy!” he protested. “I don't see you offering to help at all!” The taller, slender monk stood over him and snorted. “Wow. We decide to be nice, bring you along for a change, let you actually be useful for once in your life, and this is how you thank us? Ungrateful little bastard!” He gave Krillin a rough shove sending the boy and his boxes tumbling over onto the grimy pavement. “Aww, now you've gone and made a mess of all our supplies, nut head.” The shorter monk kicked him in the shin. “Clean it up!” Krillin grunted. “Why should I? You're the one who shoved me, you jer-” a sharp slap across his face silenced him. The taller monk laughed and cracked his knuckles. “Looks like the little imp wants to get uppity again. Guess I gotta teach you some manners!” He grabbed Krillin by the front of his uniform and hauled the boy off his feet. “Rule number one-” a sharp smack echoed in the empty street. “Don't talk back to your elders, brat!” Krillin grit his teeth, tears welling in his eyes. This was nothing new, he knew that. They did this sort of thing to him regularly. But for some reason... here, now, in this moment... he felt an emotion he'd not felt in a long time. Rage. Tall monk balled his hand into a fist and raised it. “Rule number tw-” he stopped suddenly, eyes widening, and looked down at the foot that was still planted firmly in his gut. He dropped his prey, clutching at his stomach, howling. His short companion was shocked for a moment, but quickly composed himself. “Hey! You little goon!” He charged at Krillin. Krillin braced himself, and, at the last possible second, sidestepped and stuck out a foot. “I'm gonna jack you up for tha-AAA!” The Short Monk tripped, and went flying, his trajectory aided by a well-placed elbow in the back. He hit the pavement hard and rolled next to his companion, both clutching at their respective injuries as they fought to regain the wind knocked from them. The haze cleared from Krillin's mind, rage finally subsiding. His jaw dropped in shock at what he'd just done, and he felt just the smallest tinge of pride. The pride quickly gave way to dread, however, as both his attackers stood, finally catching their breaths, their eyes wide and full of malice. And so, Krillin did the only sensible thing he could. He ran. “GET BACK HERE, BASTARD!” Krillin could hear the footsteps of the others catching up to his own. He cut through a nearby alleyway, eyes locking onto a fire escape. If he could get up there, climb that, he might have a chance. He lowered his head and sprinted, leaping for the ladder, grasping the bottom rung. He struggled briefly to lift himself higher, managing to finally get footing, until he felt a giant hand clutching his foot. He felt himself be pulled, violently from the ladder, sailing through the air until his back thudded off the brick wall on the other side of the alley. Dazed, Krillin looked up in fear at his two tormentors, as they cackled with glee and prepared to rain blows. Suddenly... BAM! The loud blast of a firecracker resounded off the alley walls, causing the two to jump, followed by two more in rapid succession. “What the-GAH!” Tall Monk's head snapped forward. He could feel something wet and slimy slipping down the back of it. He reached back and ran a finger through it, and found a very familiar viscous substance. “Some punk threw an egg at me!” Short Monk looked around scanning the area. “How? No one's even he-” another well-placed egg flew down from the fire escape, slamming into his face. “Dammit! Whoever you are, you're so dead!” He gasped and threw his arms up over his head as a torrent of eggs rained down, rapidly pelting the two. Krillin also looked up to see two figures standing on the fire escape, slingshots in hand. They were kids, he realized. Probably not too much older than himself. One of them, a boy, had his black hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a dirty white shirt and jeans that seemed to be torn off at the knee on one leg. The other was a blonde girl in shorts and a long-sleeved black shirt, sharp eyes glistening as she lit two more of the firecrackers and tossed them down at her targets. The monks jumped back as they exploded near their feet. The boy on the fire escape laughed. “Looks like someone's got egg on their faces.” His companion audibly groaned. “Ditch the shrimp, let's move!” The two ran and the boy jumped down, peeling off after them. “Hey, baldies, we ain't done!” Krillin blinked a few times, his body suddenly feeling very heavy as the adrenaline left his system. He stood, brushing off his uniform. “Oh man, whoever you are, thank you so much!”  The tough girl slid down the ladder and leaned back against the wall, eyeing him with a smirk, and Krillin couldn't help but feel a tightness in his chest and butterflies in his stomach. She pointed and gestured for him to come closer. He obliged, face turning red.   'She sure is pretty...'  “I'm impressed,” the girl said, patting him on the head. “Not bad for a little guy.” She cocked her head down the alleyway her brother had chased the other Orin students, his whooping and their frightened shouts echoing back to them. “Those punks there give you trouble a lot?”  “W-well yeah,” he sheepishly admitted. “I mean I kinda live with them, so it's not like I get much of a break.” He looked down at the alley floor. “And it's not like the monks at the temple really discourage it all that much.”  She snapped her fingers in realization. “Ahh yeah, you guys must be from that temple up there on that hill.. Nice place.” She wrinkled her nose. “The people, not so much.”  “Krillin raised his hands defensively. “Well, not everyone's so bad. I mean, the monk who agreed to let me stay was nice, I guess. Even if he did kinda say he shouldn't have because I don't have much skill. Or talent.” He scuffed his shoe on the alleyway floor. “I mean, it's meant for students, not 'charity cases' and whatnot...” The girl raised an eyebrow and stood up straight. “Hey now, I just saw you fight, kid. You got some pretty good skill. Wouldn't manage to get two 'proper students' twice your size on the ground without it, yeah?”  Krillin smiled, cheeks flushing a bit. “Yeah, I suppose so.”  “How old are ya, anyways?” she asked.  “Uhm... 13?” he replied.   The girl let out a chuckle. “Ha! Looks like I got almost a full year on ya then. Already that good and you're barely a teenager though.” She put a hand on her hip. “Gotta say, I am impressed. Krillin snorted. “Yeah. Wish the masters at the temple saw it that way.” She cupped his face to look up at hers, cool leather of her fingerless gloves feeling even more intense against his flushed cheeks. “The way I see it? If they won't believe in you and give you a shot, you oughtta find someone who does. Then come back and teach them losers at that temple a lesson or two of your own.” She smiled and him, and he swore he felt his heart stop. “Who knows, might even wind up bein' a master in your own right, take over the school, start your own. Just don't let a buncha jerks push you around or live your life for ya.” “YO! SIS!” her brother called from down the alley. “Gotta scram, cops are comin', along with one very pissed off egg salesman!” The girl rolled her eyes. “I don't even wanna know.”  “No, but I'll probably tell you anyways. C'mon.”  She turned back to face Krillin. “Well kiddo, I gotta scram-” she paused mid-sentence, peering down the street and alley, as if to see if anyone was in view, before leaning down and placing a feather-soft kiss on his cheek. Krillin felt his face turn beet red and he froze, unable to move a muscle. “I gotta go, but I figured I'd leave ya one of those. For luck.” She shot him one last quick smile. “What's your name?” “K-k-Krillin,” he managed to sputter out. “Well, I'll be sure to look you up sometime.” She winked at him. “Gotta see how strong my future boyfriend is after all.” “B-b-BOYFRIEND?!” Krillin half-shouted, before getting a gloved hand firmly placed over his mouth. “Not so loud!” the girl half yelled in a hushed tone. “I got a reputation ta protect, you know.” Her face softened and she smiled before turning and trotting down the alley. Krillin stood there, stunned for a moment before hurriedly calling out after her. “But I-I'm a monk! I ca-” “Nah, you'll leave,” she laughed and called back. “I can tell. Then you're all mine.” Beet red, the boy called after her one last time. “Can I at least get a name?!” “Name's -” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Krillin sat straight up in bed, shaken. He peered over at the clock and noted the time. 3:00 AM. May 7th.  He wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to shake off the fog of sleep. He knew he needed to rest. It was a long 5 days ahead. It was one of the most important days of his life. Yet, as he felt the cool ocean breeze drift in through the window, he also knew he didn't want to sleep again tonight. Because every year, without fail these dreams would come. Every year, he would remember what he lost. He would remember this day not as the day they defeated the “son” of the evil King Piccolo, nor the day his best friend was crowned World Champion, nor even, he noted with a pang of guilt, as the day of his best friend's wedding. To him, this would always be the day he lost her. And with that thought, he broke. Tears fell, unbidden, accompanied by heavy sobbing for what felt like an eternity.  When he could finally breathe evenly and regain his composure, he noticed the first tiny rays of sunlight dancing over the blue horizon. Mentally cursing himself, he lay back down to try to get at least a bit more rest before his regimen for the day started. He couldn't afford to miss a day, especially now.  Because in five days, the end of the world would begin. 

Wanted to practice writing fight scenes! So have the fight between Popu and Limon that turned Limon good- or well, not evil anymore.

Limon stood before the fallen warriors, dark aura enveloping her as her dark expression grew. A sharp tooth smiled bare for all to see.

“I thought you Z Fighters would put up a better fight! Since I was so easy to beat the first time around.” The young Majin mocked. This wasn’t her first fight with the Earth’s defenders. Initially when she came to this planet she tried to take them on, with the help of her Saiyan bodyguards of course. While the Saiyans provided a bit of an upper hand for Limon, she was no match once Goku and Vegeta arrived on the scene. However after a year of radio silence, the Majin was back and way stronger than they thought. But without her Saiyan friends. What a mistake that was.

However they seemed to have gravely underestimated the Majin.

She took down each Z fighter one by one, effortlessly almost. Where did all this power come from?! Limon taunted them from her place above them, beaten down and damaged. Goku and Vegeta were out of the count- nobody knew where they were right now. But it’d be really nice for them to drop in any moment now! Limon began approaching the fallen warriors. This was it, this was the end. A Majin finally came to destroy them and their world and they couldn’t stop them this time.

However before Limon got too close, a figure appeared.

It was quick and sudden, everybody looked up to the shorter pink Majin who appeared before them, eyes scowled and teeth bare.

“I thought I told you to scram and tell my father we wanted nothing to do with him.” Popu glared, causing Limon to snicker back at her. “You really think just because you asked I’d just leave? I’m as much an heiress as you are Popu! You have no authority over me.” Limon sneered, causing Popu to glare. “I’m not asking for authority. I’m asking you to fuck off.” She took a step forward. The Yellow majin made no movements, watching Popu with a delighted smirk. “Oh ho, quite unbecoming of you, your highness. Such words aren’t be coming for the crowned princess of our clan!” She mocked. In a second Popu made her move, Limon barely blocking with her own arm.

“Ah, you’re much faster than I remember. Have you been training?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Popu hissed, kneeing the other Majin. Limon coughed a bit, a devious smile appearing on her face as she dealt a blow to the side of Popu’s face. The smaller Majin growled. Now it was on.

Everybody watched in awe as Popu gave it her all. Watching her fight was a rare occasion, she much preferred to sit and watch and when she did fight, it was all for the fun of it. She held her arms up shielding her face as Limon dealt blow after blow against her. Raising one arm slightly, she blocked the other’s arm as she grabbed her incoming fist, trying to force the other down in submission. Limon growled, eyes wide and manic as she kneed Popu. As she doubled over, the yellow Majin clasped both hands together as she knocked Popu over the head, sending her flying towards the ground. The crater it left was immense, debris covering the smaller opponent in a thick fog of dust. Popu coughed as she pushed herself up, shaking her head. Oh, now she was pissed.

“I’m getting real sick and tired of this.” Popu growled, shooting back up and dealing an uppercut to Limon. The majin sputtered, flying back and shaking her head. Realigning her jaw slightly, she blasted towards Popu, shooting all kinds of Ki flares at her. Popu dodged them all effortlessly, teleporting behind Limon the moment she got close. They were causing too much damage to the city and it was best to deal with her quickly. Popu didn’t have time to tango with this pompous uppity piece of shit and she was going to end it as quickly as she could.

“What the-?!” Limon glanced around her, where had that tiny pink blob gone?!

“Stay dead.” Popu growled as her hands lit up in a menagerie of purples and pinks. Limon whipped her head behind her, pupils shrinking and eyes wide as the other dealt a Majin Kamehameha at point plank.

Popu thought that’d be the end of it, wiping her hands together and letting out a sigh. However, before she could set down on Earth, the sound of an Instant Transmission caught her as Limon grabbed her shoulder. “Did you forget I could do that too?”

Popu was sent flying, crashing into a building. Limon laughed maniacally as Popu came barreling out, resuming her fight with Limon.

She could match her in speed and strength, this was getting ridiculous. At this rate she might- she might…

“Feh!” The pink Majin snarled.

Popu let out a shockwave of energy, sending Limon back. She had no choice. There was no way she could overpower Limon at this rate. She was… She was going to have to learn how to control herself real fast and not lose herself in the process. The grounded Z Fighters watched as the fight progressed, growing more and more concerned for Popu. They knew she could fight- but she was quickly losing leverage it seemed. However, the girl began to change. Plumes of smoke began radiating from the vents in her body.

“What is she…” Krillin stared. Limon blinked back, furrowing her brows.

“Wait. What are you doing? You’re not-” Limon’s eyes widened. Popu smirked, glaring at Limon. “Mom and dad never taught you, did they?” Was all she managed out before she was enveloped in the smoke. Her breathing was caught in her throat and she began to change, a demonic roar being ripped from her throat as air rushed out of her, clearing the smoke. Her body contorted in ways that made anyone’s backs ache. Flopping forward like a limp doll, she lifted her head slightly to reveal wide dark black eyes and small red irises. A sharp tooth grin flashing itself to Limon. Her tendrils had joined to become one long one hanging off her head while her body morphed to be the spitting image of the malicious Kid Buu. The Majin symbol on her belt shined in the sun as she stood, glaring at the other. “Why so scared Limon? I thought you were stronger than me.”

“You…!” Limon clenched her teeth, hesitating slightly. THIS was purification. She didn’t know how to enter such a phase. But how?! Her sisters weren’t able to utilize the form either! Why was Popu able too?!

However, everyone on the ground was much more surprised and shocked than Limon was. Popu. Sweet little Popu who wouldn’t hurt a fly. With eyes full of stars and a smile so bright it felt like sunshine. She was the sweetest Majin to ever land on Earth. She was friendly, charismatic and generally harmless. Nobody thought she could become the image of something so evil and monstrous. But the truth was Popu had always been this way. She’s always been able to utilize this form and she was stronger than people took her for. Nobody ever respected Popu the way she wanted. She may have been cute but she was a fighter, she was the daughter of one of the universe’s most terrifying species. Majins weren’t all happiness and rainbows, there were some capable of atrocities around the universe who had no qualms of ending lives and destroying worlds. Popu comes from that lineage of Majin. And in this form, it becomes quite apparent.

The shockwave she made when colliding with Limon threw back even those on the ground. Limon struggled to keep her arms up as Popu mercilessly dealt throw after throw, a wicked smile as she relished in the struggle and pain Limon felt. Oh how good it felt to be back in this skin. How long has she gone in that smaller, inferior form? She wasn’t much taller when pure, she knew, but she much preferred the ferocity and power of this than what her unpure form dished out. Limon’s guard finally broke, giving Popu a good opening to send the girl flying. A cackle left the Pure Majin’s throat as she watched the other weakly pick herself up.

“Is that all you got?! What happened to your much ‘superior’ strength? Huh?” She taunted, crossing her arms. She moved out of the way as Limon’s ki blast barely scraped her cheek. Hm. She was rusty. No matter, the Majin smirked as she launched herself at Limon. Kicking up debris and dust as the two brawled in the pit she created.

Limon met each punch Popu gave, blocking kicks and elbows as the other became more and more barbaric in her attacks. Although base Popu had form and calculated strikes, Pure Popu would quickly lose herself in the heat of battle, just trying anything that would seem to work. This began to weigh in Limon’s favor, throwing her punch to the side and managing to get a hold of Popu, bringing her face against her knee, the pink Majin let out a bark of pain. In her daze Limon was able to follow up with another kick that sent Popu against the crater. She spat out some blood, staring at the vaguely magenta stain against the dirt. Oh, she was not having any of it. Growling, she caught Limon off guard with a vanishing ball. The shockwave bounced Limon against the ground, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Gasping, she stared at Popu as she approached. Her arm stretched attempting to smash Limon. Limon rolled quickly, scrambling to her feet as Popu continued to set her barrage against her. This was getting out of hand quickly. She had to subdue Popu quickly or else she’s not getting out of this alive.

She let out a calm sigh, reacting accordingly to Popu’s unpredictable movements. The unpredictable soon became predictable with each thrown ki blast and punch. Popu seemed to go back to the same few moves when she got frustrated, and that feeling of frustration is what Limon is gonna rely on to hopefully pull through as victor. But Popu was full of surprised. Anticipating one attack, Limon was caught in a Pearl Flash, ripping a scream of pain from her. Popu smirked as she grabbed Limon’s body. The other clawed against Popu, squirming and attempting to break free to no avail.

“Look at you. You’re no match for me Limon. Why do you fight anyways? For our father? You do know he doesn’t love you right?”

That struck a chord with Limon, causing her to furrow her brows up to the other.

“He never did. Not you, not me. If you think I’m a monster then do I got bad news for you. He’s a disgusting tyrant who’s using us as weapons and pawns. He sent you here to look for us. For me. You say you’re just as much of an heir as I am? In his eyes you’re nothing more than a lowly drone with your only mission being to bring back his precious crowned heir!” She spat, pulling Limon’s face closer to her’s. Popu’s teeth were bared in a snarl as the other winced.

“There’s no point in this. He’ll throw you to the curb the moment you complete your job. He’ll never love you no matter what you do and you’re either going to accept that or die in vain.” She threw down Limon against the ground harshly. Despite her unhinged nature in this form, she held enough of a grip on herself to be able to give Limon a choice. A choice to stop fighting and never show her face against or a choice to fight bared to the teeth and die a mistake.

“I…”

Limon stared at her hands, eyes hollow. For once, she questioned her obedience and loyalty to their father. True he had never once shown her an ounce of love. But she thought… If she could just do this one task… Perhaps…

“Hurts doesn’t it?” Popu’s voice cut through like a knife. Limon twitched slightly, looking back up to Popu. The smoke was beginning to ventilate from her once more as she let out a sigh, her form returning to what it once was. She no longer stared at Limon with contempt and ridicule. Instead it was more… Sad. Sympathetic. She was once in Limon’s shoes, angry at the world and not understanding why her parents didn’t love her. But she grew to understand that, it didn’t matter if her parents did or not. They may have raised her, but she wasn’t obligated to be their child. If that made sense. It took years to undo the gaslighting and manipulation that left her when she landed on this planet. Limon was a case forced to age quickly for a specific person. She was a drone. Not her father’s child.

Limon was silent once more. She didn’t know how to answer. She… Didn’t feel like fighting anymore.

The young Majin stood up, looking at Popu. Her eyes were empty, unreadable. Taking a deep breath Limon turned, taking to the sky and disappearing to the forest. Popu watched quiet as the other made her resolution. She hoped Limon could overcome her problems like she did and perhaps, one day, they could meet again on better terms.

==> Do something about it

The ship hummed around him in the darkness. Something, somewhere, was beeping near the meat puppet hung in the rigging that limited his abilities with a biological bottle neck. His head was so fuzzy. Which is what they wanted. He was too smart, they knew what kind of damage he could do if he werent forcefully throttled. 

He worked slowly. The plan had come to him in an instant, as he'd gotten encouragement from the helm chat. He could do something. He could affect his situation. He was not fucking helpless, he refused to be.

First he carefully hacked into the mediboard that controlled his blood chemistry. He fiddled around with it so its output would remain steady, but it would cease giving him the brain fogging drugs.

That took a while to make it out of his system, every moment of it afraid someone would draw a random blood draw to double check the mediboard, though that was passingly rare. They trusted their equipment.

As his head cleared his body began to hurt, he had a sudden more complete awareness of the agony of the living wires burrowed under his skin, and the way his shoulders were wreched and taking all his weight.

He had to adjust the output again to smooth out his heart beat so they wouldn't be alerted.

Pain was fine. He could deal with pain, he could think and that was what mattered right now in this moment. Blessed clear thoughts. Every moment he delayed was a moment his gamble might be discovered so he worked quickly, spoofing his address from outside the ship while he expanded his own permissions. HE could open and close doors, he could even open and close airlocks, but he wasn't trusted with them.

He wormed his way into the controls, granting himself admin powers at the root level.

Then he just had to wait.

This was the part he had the least control over. Her movements.

Now that he'd given himself root acess and no longer needed the clarity to hack the ships permissions he left the door he'd created open, and went back in to fix his medications and outputs back the way they had been, by the time he had his opertunity he would be fully drugged again, they wouldn't be able to tell it was him. ------------------ Being the Empress had its perks. No waiting in lines, getting to take par in destruction and culling without consequences, running fleets of ships, not having to tolerate any mischief, being feared and respected by everyone at default. But most importantly? Not having to do shit unless you want to. This is one thing Meenah took advantage of as much as possible. If she didn’t have to get up and go somewhere to get something done, why would she?

In her younger years, the idea of taking the throne had caused her nothing but annoyance and disgust. Being taken care of like a wriggler, being responsible for a planet full of easily influenced and hasty trolls. Taking care of her lusus indefinitely, and having to personally feed her each night. Making a quick and not very discreet exit from her original planet had been a great decision. She’s stood by it since it happened, all those sweeps ago in an universe that never quite fit to her tastes. Being born there had felt like a cruel joke once she knew what she had missed out on.

So when she had spawned here some number of sweeps ago, she had been horrified. Devastated. They won and she, as always, got absolutely shafted by the universe. That is... until she took a good look around and evaluated her situation. Beforus had been a little pond, full of toothless guppies. And she had been a shark, unable to even turn around in the limited space. But Alternia? Alternia was a vast sea, with plenty of prey to sink her teeth into and depths to claim as her own. It was as if this gift universe was molded for her, a refined combination of two planets and the two lives she had lived through. The best part was that she had gotten to float over the hard parts, the initial rise to power and the conquering and culling of her personified roadblocks. The endless cycle of teaching her throneworld to submit.

There’s no shame in admitting she’s fully enjoyed the spoils of her new life, entirely content with trading a few sweeps for her position. Hell, she was a tyrian. There were plenty of sweeps to spare, she would do it again.

Which led to this, a three night streak of kicking up her feet in her own block on the flagship. The Battleship Condescention.

Okay, fine, maybe she should have been doing something more important than catching up on dramatic cinema when there was a rebellion to stomp out with her boot. But things were fine. They were starting to close in on the short, mouthy, ship thief. Her biggest potential problem was nice and cozy some number of floors below her, tucked into his ports and wires like a wriggler to coon. And no one else was stepping up to oppose her. Even the most powerful and feared leaders of societies had to take a break, let the tide ease them out.

Of course, all good things come to an end. This time, it’s the portable communications device implanted into her tiaratop. Already missing her makeshift getaway, she flicked a claw against the gold and her features were illuminated by the live footage of one of her on hand advisors. She scowled at him, lip jutted out and pierced brows raised to put emphasis on her annoyance. “We got a, y’know, a problem.” He grunted, the last word coming out like pr-ah-bl-im. “Sum’thin’ funny, ‘kay. Minor. We’re handling it, swear it ma’am. Got someone on the f’rewalls, set that right. But...”

When the purple hued troll went on to explain, she was furious. Someone had managed to nudge at their security systems and give them a test and it took them a few nights to tell her? Her pan whirled to the worst and most paranoid conclusion. Someone from their session, probably that infuriating time wench or the pirate enthusiast, maybe a turnaround from her own Makara if he’d been fully awakened in their new planet.

She stormed about to get ready, pan immediately set to force her commandeered pissblood battery to help her track down and eliminate the source. If her goons couldn’t get the job done, he was going to do it for them.

“Soon as I grill this guppy, you’re gettin’ sautéed. Fried.” Meenah, better known as the Condesce, set her focus entirely on a stomping beeline for the exit and her threatening tangent. “Pike it or not, best get ya’ affairs in order. Boat t’ sea what the pointy end a’ my golden prod ‘eels like embedded in ya’ b’ass. No shrimp-athy for the in-conch-petent, set a bet’a example for the school.”

The door to her block opened with quiet ‘swish!’ as she took her first step out. And then another. Somewhere, a number of clicks below stationed near the central engines, a troll was probably filled with justifiable anger and excitement. With the Empress there was nothing but the light, sharp sound of her heeled boots in the metal corridor paired with the rough undertone to her flurry of words. The advisor on the other end of her video chat cowered, sputtering excuses as she glared down her defined cartilage nub at him. “And if you e’fin conch-sea-der tryin’ to catch a wave trout’a here, I ain’t mako-in it snappy.” She continued her tirade, satisfied by the way the other troll’s eyes went wide and his jaw slid open. “Yeah, that’s moray p’ike it. Best get ya-shelf practicin’ on a look a’ ray-morse.”

“Actually,” he started, gaze averted to the light over the airlock behind her. It blinked red once, yellow twice, and began to shift to green. “I think -“

“Clam it, small fry!” She stopped her determined march to point a claw at him, as if he were really a few feet ahead of her. “Can’t bay-lieve ya’ got the swimmers to gab at me, blowin’ bubbles slap full a’ bullshark.”

Just behind her, the light held steady at green. The advisor stumbled in his warning, horrified and relieved and stalled by his shock as her hair whipped away from her face and her words trailed off. There’s a second where the familiar sound of the airlock opening seemed to halt time. Meenah looked over her shoulder, and then to the projected feed of the lower blooded troll. For the first time in sweeps, she barked a laugh. And then? “Son of a’ eldritch pailin’ bitch.” She bared her impressive chompers, fins flared backwards in her surprise, disbelief, and pure offense that someone has made an attempt on her life. The tyrian scrambled to dig her claws into the metal wall beside her, a cringe worthy noise produced when they drag through the reinforced metal. “You gotta be krillin’ -“

“Maybe if -“

In what might be the most anticlimactic turntables of a story ever, the airlock smoothly opens the rest of the way. Sweeps in the past, there is a time traveling maroon blooded, grudge obsessed troll glancing through the ages and chortling at a joke no one will understand much less believe. The seadweller’s yellow painted claws dig and clip away in a desperate swing at survival. The hatches to the other blocks through the stem are sealed shut, and whatever artificial air was being released dissipated the minute the immediate area was exposed to space. Meenah had a moment, maybe two, to reflect on the mistakes that led her here. Putting an airlock directly outside the door to her block, entirely for the purpose of disposing of any unwanted visitors. Not once considering that someone might turn this around on her, or capitalize on her desire for the dramatic. Leaving her block using her balancing prongs at all, when a transportalizer would have been safer and faster - but would ultimately have lacked in the build-up of intensity and hostility that a chance to strut and lament and publicly humiliate and shortly thereafter kill her most recent workplace pest. If she had more time, she might have thought of a few more excuses to shift the blame a bit.

Including, but not limited to: This Must Entirely Be Megido’s Fault And Here Is Why, the three part series of essays assembled by Meenah Peixes. Or the potential ways Aranea could have somehow subverted death and the fate of their session altogether to somehow ruin the one fun thing she has EVER had the chance to do, seriously, what a Jealous Jude. Or maybe this is the fault of the younger Vantas, who mysteriously fell into her lap around a sweep ago and... well, he was disappointing as a whole until he managed to actually do a backflip off of the handle and body his way out of holding.The diversion of resources from the facility had been an oversight, and the cause of it was promptly replaced and reassigned to dinner duty. A more appealing way to refer to the main course.

Any of those things could have led to this, but none of them did. All the time in the world, and she likely never would have thought her laziness would play a part in her downfall.

It did, though. The metal peeled away from the support column, and the lurching movement broke her grip. It was inevitable. Meenah tried to yelp out a curse, perhaps one last bit of defamation for her last words, but nothing actually came from her throat. Her lips twisted and her expression caught somewhere between anger and fear. The last thought to coherently hit her ends with ‘- and this bucket of chum is the last thing I get my peepers on, really?’ as she wS forcibly removed from the flagship and sent careening into space.

A few blocks and a couple lifts away, the flabbergasted advisor had already dispatched armed forces. Not that it mattered, he decided. The connection to the tiratop flickers more and more as she departs, but the image of his frozen taskmaster tells him there’s no rescuing from that.

Her skin was flaking with ice, fins back and shining tyrian as they stretched, thin eyes obscured by the ice on her lashes, teeth exposed from where she tried to get the last word. The sight of her being quickly and surprisingly easily dispatched hadn’t left him hopeful for saving her, and the last glimpses of her expression deterred him from even attempting to recover her corpse.

The Empress was dead.

K18: Not Like All the Others

For ChestnutFest 2018

Prompt: First Fight / Scars 

I’ll be posting some of these stories along with some from last year’s ChestnutFest in my anthology series, Kame Island Romance, on FanFiction.Net.

Note: The following story briefly touches on sensitive subject matter. Read at your discretion.

Rights to Dragonball and related properties are held by their respective owners. No infringement is implied or intended.

Not Like All the Others

By Koinekid

“Not all scars are visible…but with time they might fade...”

—José N. Harris

Krillin should have known better than to leave Eighteen alone with Roshi and Oolong. Their living arrangement was still too new—it wasn’t even clear whether they should classify her as a longterm houseguest or a roommate. And boundaries, which would be obvious to anyone who wasn’t a pervert, had yet to be firmly established.

But Yamcha was only in town for the weekend before starting another monthlong road trip with his baseball team, and Krillin was dying to see his friend. He invited Eighteen to join them for karaoke, but displaying her typical aloofness, she turned away without saying a word.

So, he left, but she never left his thoughts as he reminisced with his old friend. Krillin could barely work up the energy to sing more than a few songs. Yamcha understood.

“Worried about Eighteen?”

Krillin nodded sheepishly.

“It’s okay. If I had a pretty girl waiting for me, I wouldn’t stop thinking about her either.”

He denied it, but Yamcha saw right through him and sent him back home, promising they’d meet up when he returned. “And, Krillin,” he offered as a parting shot, “you’d better have some positive news to report, or I just might make a move on her myself.”

They laughed. Krillin knew his friend was joking. Or hoped he was, at least.

So, his spirits were high as he walked through the front door of Kame House. They plummeted when he heard voices coming from upstairs.

“Move out of the way. Let me see.”

“Quiet down, pig. You had your turn.”

“But I didn’t see anything. There’s too much steam.”

Krillin cringed. They wouldn’t, would they?

He approached the stairs with trepidation, praying he wouldn’t find what he already knew he would: his roommates crouched at the bathroom door, jockeying for position in front of the keyhole. The upstairs bathroom was the only room in the house without a modern lock, and now he knew why.

Master, Oolong, come on.

The pig lifted an ancient-looking hand-cranked drill and positioned it against the wall.

“Shh,” Roshi hissed. “She’ll hear.”

“It’s worth the risk.”

Roshi snatched away the drill. “You should have acted earlier if you wanted your own peephole.”

“Krillin would’ve stopped me. You’d think that spoilsport was still a monk the way he refuses to look at her.”

“Oh, he looks. He’s just better at hiding it than you are.”

“You think he made his own peephole?” the pig asked. “His room shares a wall with the bathroom.”

They looked at one another, then at Krillin’s door. “Nah,” they agreed.

“You’re right about that,” came Krillin’s voice behind them. “I’d never stoop so low.”

Oolong gulped, and Roshi tried to strike an authoritative stance. “Respect your elders, boy.”

“Hand over the drill, Master.”

“No, get your own.” The tool, which he forbade Oolong to use mere moments ago, suddenly became a sticking point, and as the two struggled over it, Oolong inched closer to the keyhole.

“Hey, the shower stopped. The steam is starting to clear. I see leg. Glorious leg. Just another second, and I’ll—” He felt a hand grip his shoulder. “Eep.”

Behind him stood Krillin, holding the bent and broken drill in one hand with Roshi nowhere to be seen.

Oolong chuckled nervously. “Guess I’ll be going now.”

“You guessed right.” Krillin propelled the pig harder than necessary toward the stairs. Sighing, he prepared to follow his roommates to the first floor and have the serious talk they frankly should have had before Eighteen moved in. But he stepped on something, lost his footing, and fell headlong into the door. On his way down, he discovered what had tripped him—the drill’s handle, which must have separated from the rest of the tool during his struggle with Roshi. The drill bit lodged itself into the door with a twang, and before he recovered his wits enough to decide what to do about it, the door opened, and a very wet, very pissed Eighteen appeared, clad only in a towel.

<<>> 

Pissed wasn’t entirely accurate. When the door opened, she looked merely confused. Myriad emotions then passed through those crystal blue eyes that always took his breath away: hurt, betrayal, sadness, and finally anger and hatred unlike any he had ever seen from her. Krillin felt very small in that moment, and guilty. Not for anything he had done but for what he failed to do—protect her. He wasn’t her boyfriend. Probably he never would be—certainly not after what she thought he had done. But she was a guest in his home, and the safety he owed her as such, he failed to deliver.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“You’re sorry.” Her anger twisted the word into a curse. “I guess that makes it all right, doesn’t it?”

“I know how this looks, but I didn’t—I wouldn’t.”

“Bullshit!”

He scrambled backwards as she advanced on him. But the hallway was narrow, and his back hit the wall almost instantly. She grabbed the front of his shirt, lifted him as if he were a child and slammed him into the wall. The Sheetrock crumbled around him.

“Eighteen, please. I can explain.”

“I don’t need your explanation. I know exactly what you were doing—the same thing all you men do. You’re just like those perverted roommates of yours, just like…” Her eyes compressed briefly, fighting back tears. “At least they’re honest about what they are.”

“But I’m not like that. I would never disrespect you—”

“Liar,” she shrieked, drawing back her fist. As she did, her towel began to slip. Rather than raise his arms to defend himself, he slammed his eyes shut and averted his gaze.

Her grip slackened, and she dropped him in her haste to secure the towel. “Why’d you look away?” she spat. “Isn’t this what you wanted to see?”

“No, well, I mean, not like this.”

“Oh, so you’d rather watch a woman who doesn’t know she’s being watched. Is that what gets you off?”

“Eighteen, please. I wasn’t spying on you. It’s all a huge misunderstanding.”

“You already admitted you want to see me naked. Admit the rest so you can die with a clean conscience.”

His mouth went dry. “I—I admit…”

She cracked her knuckles. “Yeah?”

“I do think about seeing you...naked, but never without your consent.”

“And what makes you think an ugly troll like you could ever get that?”

He shook his head.

“No answer?” Her face contorted in fury. “That’s just as well. Whatever little fantasies you have about me, get over them. You’re no knight in shining armor, and I’m sure as hell no pure and innocent damsel. That old pervert who turned me into a cyborg had his eyes and hands all over me—”

“That doesn’t make it right for me to look. Or for anyone else.”

“You’re just like everyone else!”

“I’m not. I can’t answer for what others have done to you. All I can say is how sorry I am, that I never would have hurt you. And you didn’t deserve it.”

Her hands shot up, and he thought it was all over. But they rose to cover her face. Sobs racked her lithe frame as she sank to the floor.

Krillin pushed to his feet and walked cautiously toward her. “Eighteen?” He placed a hand on her bare shoulder.

When she met his gaze, the fury and hate were gone, and she looked so vulnerable that he nearly wept with her. She reached toward him, and for a heartbeat, it appeared she would accept his comfort. Then, she slapped his hand away and fled for the safety of her room.

He stood motionless, torn between the desire to grant her the privacy she wanted and the ache in his heart that demanded he comfort someone he had come to care for deeply.

Knocking on her door, he called her name. She gave no answer, and he was about to give up when he heard the sound of glass shattering. With no time for debate, he shouldered his way into the locked room, tearing the door from its frame in the process.

Shards of broken glass littered her bed and floor. He found her wet towel discarded in the middle of the carpet. Several dresser drawers had been flung open in haste or frustration. The majority of her clothes were still there, so she hadn’t packed. Most likely, she had paused only long enough to dress before exiting through the window.

Why she felt the need to go through the window without opening it first was anybody’s guess. Probably she needed something to take her anger out on. Better it than me, he supposed.  

Still, he couldn’t help but worry and wonder if he’d ever see her again. Eighteen might return for her clothes in the middle of the night without him or his roommates noticing. Worse, she could abandon them altogether and steal what she needed. He’d hate to see that. She’d come so far in such a short amount of time. Returning to a life of crime would be a waste.

“Be safe, Eighteen,” he whispered. “Please come back.”

 <<>> 

 That night Krillin lay in bed pondering the events of the afternoon. He spent the hours following Eighteen’s departure patching the broken window and clearing the glass from her floor and bed. He’d fly to the nearest town tomorrow and buy the materials necessary to replace the window. It wouldn’t be cheap, but he’d pay for it himself. Though he wasn’t entirely to blame for this fiasco, he could’ve handled it better. He’d also pay for the door, which was his fault.

He found time to talk with his roommates as well and made it clear that, if she did return, she was off limits. One peep, one lewd comment, one inappropriate look in her direction, and there would be hell to pay. Threats proved unnecessary, though. The cracked wall in the hallway had shaken them up already.

Sleep was a long time coming, and when it did, he dreamed of her.

Instead of jeans and a long-sleeved tee, dream Eighteen wore a long white dress. Not a wedding gown. This was of a simpler cut. Krillin was there too, an older version of himself with his hair grown out, dressed in shorts and a loose-fitting orange polo. They strolled on the beach. It might have been Kame Island. He couldn’t be sure. And between them, holding onto a hand each, was a little girl with Eighteen’s blonde hair and his dark eyes and noseless face. They were a family—he could tell—and it may have been the happiest dream of his life.

The little girl ran ahead, laughing and calling Papa and Mama to see what she found. As they knelt beside her, she began to happily bang two seashells together. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.

Krillin’s eyes jerked open. Disappointment set in as the day’s events came crashing back into his consciousness. He desperately tried to recapture the dream. If he concentrated, he could still hear the sound of his daughter tapping those seashells together.

In fact, the tapping grew more insistent, and it no longer sounded like seashells.

He sat up in bed, and his heart skipped a beat when he spotted Eighteen floating outside his window, tapping on the glass.

He threw open the window, but when he started to speak, she placed a finger over her lips and beckoned him to join her outside. Pausing only long enough to slip on a pair of shorts—he already wore boxers and a tee shirt—he followed her into the night.

They flew silently for several minutes. Some dark, morose part of himself wondered if she meant to draw him away to his doom, but that wasn’t her style. If she intended to kill him, she’d do it in broad daylight in front of his friends. Correction, that’s what the old Eighteen would have done if she decided to kill someone. And she was becoming a more distant memory with each passing day.

With little warning, Eighteen stopped, and he nearly collided with her. She raised a brow, and he smiled sheepishly. Nodding toward the island below them, she began her descent. He followed.

The moon was out in full, reflecting like a spotlight off the water of a lagoon. Eighteen removed her boots and socks and rolled up her jeans before wading out into the water. Looking back at Krillin, she extended a hand. They waded for some time in the shallow water, holding hands and enjoying the sounds of the night, the gentle surf lapping the shore, the crickets chirping, the breeze rustling the palm fronds.

Krillin pictured the little girl from his dream. She’d love this place, and his heart ached at the thought that she would never see it.

At last, Eighteen broke the silence. “This is my favorite place to think. It’s nice during the day, but at night…well, you can see for yourself.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me. It’s beautiful.”

“Krillin, you—you can ask ask me out if you want.”

“Do you want me to?”

She nodded, her attempt to hide a blush unsuccessful in the moonlight. “You think I deserve to be treated like any other woman, right? Then, ask me out.”

“W—would you like to go out with me?”

“What would we do?” she asked.

“Anything you want.”

She harrumphed. “You’re the one asking me out. You should have a plan.”

“All right, um…” He racked his brain for an appropriate scenario. “There’s this café a couple of islands over. We could go there to talk, get to know one another better. Then take a walk in the nearby park.”

She appeared to mull it over before her face broke out in a smile she’d been trying to hide. “I accept.” Then she leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek. It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever received, full of hope and longing, a far cry from the scornful, almost violent kiss she gave him on the highway all those months ago.

Straightening, she chewed her lip.

“Are you all right?”

“Krillin, we—I need to take things slow, so…so that I get used to the idea of a man touching me out of purity. Okay?”

Throughout all of this, they had never released their hold on one another’s hands. He squeezed hers in reassurance. “Okay.”

Relief flooded her face. Had she really thought he’d say no?

“So, what now?” she asked.

He took a deep breath of ocean air before releasing a contented sigh. “It’s a gorgeous night, nice breeze in the air. Would you walk with me on the beach?”

She smiled. “Maybe we’ll find some seashells.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “wouldn’t that be something?”

The End.

Thanks for reading; reviews and comments are appreciated.

The Character of Android 17

What’s up, friendos? So, Android 17 has been the toast of the town in Dragon Ball circles lately.  Don’t get me wrong, that’s awesome and definitely deserved: the dude is unquestionably the MVP of the tournament of power, and if you try to say otherwise, I’ll… shrug and carry on with my day, I guess.  You do you, I ain’t your dad.

No, but seriously, go to any discussion forum or comment section these days, and you’ll see plenty of people talking about how great and cool 17 was, and how he’s definitely shone more than any other during the current arc.  I agree with the sentiment whole-heartedly, so we’re not here to discuss that, rather, I want to bring up some of the negativity that has come along with this newfound bump in fan appreciation.

See, where there’s hype, there must be backlash, and 17 has been subjected to plenty of that.  With every more popular member of team universe 7 to be eliminated before him, the number of people bitter at his continued presence grew.  This is fine, in and of itself, for the ‘not your dad’ reason I listed above, but there are two specific complaints I occasionally hear about 17 that I just can’t co-sign for you, and I decided to write this up to address them.  

The first is: “He’s not even the same character he was!  This guy doesn’t act anything like 17/has nothing in common with his DBZ incarnation”

the second is: “He’s boring/blank/bland!  He has no personality.”

Since I’m one of the five people worldwide who listed Android 17 as his favorite character ever since the good ole days of Z, I figure the least I can do is roll up my sleeves and share some of the reasons I disagree with the above, as well as express how I see his actions and arc.  We’ll go through the timeline of events he participated in, and see if we can’t parse together the delinquent he was with the chill park ranger he would become!

PART 1: A Reminder of the Android’s Origin and the Future Timeline

So, Android 17 was originally Lapis, a teenage delinquent who would often go out and rabble-rouse with his sister and his droogs, playing their rap music too loud, wearing pants with the waistband far lower than the waistband of pants should be allowed to hang in civilized society, and other stuff like that, I assume.

Unfortunately for the duo, Dr. Gero was about, looking for a team of teenagers with attitude he could convert into an armada of godless killing machines.  One might feel prompted to ask why Gero intended to create machines so powerful that he couldn’t control them uness they wanted to listen to his orders, but sought the demographic of humans statistically least likely to ever listen to what an old man has to say to them to be the vessels of those machines, but this isn’t an essay about Gero being a silly, silly man.

Rather, the salient point to take out of the backstory we’re given is that 17 and 18 started out with a chip on their shoulder and a lack of love for people or society.  We don’t get any info on their home life or their parents, but based on their choice of hobby, and the ease with which they were spirited away, we can safely assume there were no happy beginnings here.  From the moment they became relevant to the universe of DB they were already in a position to hate society; being kidnapped by a madman and turned into cyborgs specifically to vent THAT madman’s hatred of society only exacerbated this, resulting in a mixture that basically burned the world to the ground.

Fast forward to some time later, and humans are an endangered species, Gohan has been disarmed, and Trunks has been brought to the verge of death. We don’t really learn a lot about the personalities of the future incarnation of the androids.  They behaved like a pair of psychopathic children, destroying the world less because of any deeply held hatred or bloodlust, but more because it sounded like a fun idea and what else were they gonna do with their weekend?  They share some elements of their character with the versions of themselves who would be proper cast members, which I’ll get to later, but for the purposes of the story they were more of a force of nature than anything.

It’s too late for the future… but not the entire multiverse!  So Trunks head back to the past, but hold up, Jack!  Would his warnings prove accurate?

Part 2: Android 17 in DBZ

The first thing we learn about android 17 is that he’s a troll. Seriously, not only is he quite sardonic in his disposal of his stepdad, the first interaction he has with the Z warriors, his nominal enemies, is to beckon Krillin over to him, then abruptly stand up and frighten him.  No end game, no intent to harm, he just really wanted to screw with the poor guy.  He’s a gadfly who frequently says and does things for no greater reason than to see the reaction they provoke in others.

The second thing we learn is that he shares his future incarnation’s flippant, whimsical attitude, but to a less morbid extreme.  He makes short work of the assembled heroes, but treats it like clearing the arcade mode of a fighting game, stopping at the knockout and expressing a hope they may be more fun if he encounters them again. When 18 steps up to fight Vegeta, 17 reacts to it like a child whose sister beat him to calling dibs on the front seat during a car trip.

The third thing we learn is that he is one cocky little punk.  He refers to himself as the ultimate warrior on multiple occasions, brags constantly about himself, and treats the notion of anyone being his rival, much less stronger than he is, as a notion so ridiculous that it doesn’t even deserve his contempt.

These three traits are important because they remain central to his disposition even as a grown man, albeit to a far more muted and mature degree, even though his personality does change quite a bit during the ten years we don’t see him.  It may be tempting to say that being eaten by a bug man was what served to put a sock in his constant “I’m the best in the world” talk, and that certainly did play a role in who he became, but I would say his character started to change a little bit before that: during his fight with Piccolo.

The thing about 17’s strength is that it has nothing to do with martial prowess.  As a delinquent he certainly had experience in street fights, but he never did any formal training, or did anything that would require effort or discipline.  When Gero made 17 an android he made him so strong that he could crush anyone he encountered, but it was just that, raw strength.  It had no technique or prowess behind it.  

As the fight progresses, we see 17’s attitude toward Piccolo change subtly.  At the start, he’s just a toy to be played with, another level in his game to be cleared and forgotten about, but as it progresses Piccolo does something that 17 had never encountered before: he holds his own.  With skill and grace, he matches every move 17 has, blow for blow.  In the past 17 had had many fights as a bully and a thug, but this was the first time in his life he did battle as a warrior, and he liked the feel of it.  He expresses a kind of respect for piccolo as their fight reaches its end, even though it is couched in his trademark, planet-sized, ego.  It was an encounter that took the first step toward redeeming him, and setting him down the path we would see him walking in Super.

...and then a bug ate him… Yeah, it’s hard to stay arrogant after you’ve been eaten by a bug, so that helped too.  My big sticking point is that it’s often assumed that if Cell hadn’t screwed up the flow of events, the modern androids would have eventually became their future selves, but I think there’s a chance for their redemption even without Cell, provided at some point in time 18 meets Krillin and 17 fights the fused Kami-Piccolo.

Part 3: 17 in DBS and the Tournament of Power

Ten years pass, Android 17 is, if not in his thirties, pushing up close to ‘em for certain.  His personality is now quite placid, and he’s a family man, carrying on 16’s spirit by protecting nature, and carrying on the fire that Piccolo lit in him a decade ago by training constantly to improve his technique.  Now, I maintain that his character is still consistent, but does he BEHAVE differently now?  Of course he does.  Look, I don’t know how old you are, reader person, but I promise you, when more than a few seasons separate you from your teenage years, you will look back at who you were as a teenager, and the things you did… and you will cringe. Hard.  Heck, I’m in my thirties now, and I look back at the things I said and did in my early twenties and cringe, sometimes.  Growing older is a game of constantly realizing how ridiculous you used to be and hoping you’re less ridiculous now.

So yeah, he is more mature, but the three elements that are the center of his character are intact.  He is a merciless gadfly throughout his entire run in Super.  He exchanges affectionate barbs with his sister when he meets her daughter, he teases Krillin’s nervousness around him, despite expressing to Goku that he was fond of the man, and considered him his brother, and in general never openly acting like he took anything he encountered as seriously as he really did.

He still tends to treat everything around him like a giant game, made most evident by all of his interactions with Universe 2, but most of all with  Ribrianne and her Kamikaze Fireballs, playing the role they provided him with abandon and gusto- when Ribrianne accused him of being a villain from some kind of magical girl anime… he promptly starts hamming it up and acting like a villain in some kind of magical girl anime!

He’s no longer the loud mouthed braggart he was as a teenager, sure, but his faith in himself remains strong.  It’s just that it’s no longer childish, absolute arrogance, and instead has been tempered into a realistic confidence in his own abilities.  When faced with insurmountable odds, he remains calm and studies his situation carefully, never moving recklessly, but also never losing faith in his ability to eventually find a way to overcome the situation he finds himself in.

The tournament of power DOES introduce an important arc to 17’s character, though, and it’s a surprisingly subtle one.  Sadly, I’ve already typed up 2,000 words on the subject, so I’m going to go ahead and stop here for now.  This is how I perceive the character, and why I like him so much.  If anyone wants me to, I may type up the second essay on 17 I have rattling around in my head sometime, and reveal how 17 accomplishes something impossible:  makes JIREN an interesting antagonist.

Krillin's Strife

A/N: This is me coping. This is me pushing my own, personal mental disorder onto a character that I admire because of how low I just got. My trichotillomania is something that I don't believe I'll ever be rid of. I've long since accepted my lack of eyebrows and eyelashes as part of my life and while I'm excited to see them growing again, I expect them to be gone soon. However, this loss of my hair on my head, that spot where my hair parts and a huge chunk of it grows from, is sore again. Sore like it was in middle school. I thought I was past this long ago, but I've just had to face the harsh reality that I'm not. Krillin is a character that knows his limits and has accepted his shortcomings but he doesn't let that control him. He knows he'll never be a strong enough fighter to keep up, yet he stays when needed anyways. This is me trying to channel that energy into myself to help me to accept that I will always have relapses where the bald spot will return, but I can't give up. This probably means nothing to everyone. I don't believe Krillin has Trich, I just need to pretend he does for my own sake. ~!~ The first couple of days were easily the hardest. He supposed it partially came from not suspecting 18 to be so harsh about it right from the get-go. Anytime he so much as wanted to scratch at his head she slapped his hand and boy, she wasn't kidding when she told him she wouldn't hold back. No sir-y. Even if he told her he was just scratching, she would tell him to let it itch forever until it went away. It was torture. But somehow, he knew it was torture that he needed. Nothing else in his life ever worked but then again all he did before this was simply avoid the issue entirely. You can't have a problem with pulling your hair out if you don't have any hair at all, right? When the question of "why" came up after he was forced to fess up about his little...issue... he was speechless. He didn't have an answer but it was lucky that his wife wasn't the type to care much. She didn't push him for an answer like he expected, even though inside he was ready to blame being forced to shave as a child, and he appreciated that. The reason he never told anyone the truth before was because, well for one they never asked, and for two, he couldn't explain himself. He pulled his hair out and he didn't know why. Something was driving him to do it and even now, thinking about it, he can feel it stinging. Feel the itch. Feel the individual tiny hairs piercing his scalp to start to grow into what it was always meant to be. It hurt a lot to ignore that call to scratch at his skin until the roots of those few individual hairs were gone. 18 had caught him a few times in the bathroom, starring at the mirror and pulling the oddities off his head. She wasn't very gentle about it. She didn't yell, or scream, or cry, she just glared, grabbed his hand, smacked it as hard as she could and then looked at him with disappointment in her eyes. He never thought that that would be what he needed but after a month of that, he could see it working. He looked like a normal person. A non-martial artist and it made him ecstatic. Thanks to his background, he was able to get in all kinds of crazy poses in front of the mirror while holding a smaller one to check his full head. No bald spots were in sight and he couldn't be happier! The night of this revelation and the pride 18 showed him left Krillin with so much joy that he went a little crazy spoiling his dear wife. Of course, she spoiled him back so they were even. On one of their visits to Chichi, Gohan and the new baby Goten, Chichi asked why it was that Krillin felt he needed to grow his hair out. She mentioned something about him looking younger and more serious with it shaved and he just laughed in response. There was still no need to come clean. His problem was solved, it would never come back. 18 was the perfect driving force to end it. Or so he thought. A few days passed and the bald spot became visible. 18 started yelling at him in the quiet and monotone way that she did and Krillin was face to face with the reality that this was just another enemy he could never let his guard down around. He could never be rid of this urge, this need, this gross instinct. No matter the cause and no matter the reasons for acting on them, it was with him for life. That night, he shaved his head again. Once more he was the victim of his wife's temper. He knew this would happen. How could he not? It was quitting. He was quitting. He gave up. He accepted that there was no way to defeat this so there was no reason to keep fighting. It wasn't until 18 became pregnant that Krillin tried again. So many weeks and months, so much time had passed of there being a dark cloud in his home. Roshi couldn't feel it, of course. He might be a perverted leech but he still had standards and still respected the privacy of the married couple in the house. It didn't help matters, though. With Krillin being forced to tell his old master SOMETHING, Roshi unknowingly acted as an enabler. Krillin had an excuse to lean on and so long as he could run back to "martial artists shave their heads and I won't quit training" he could continue to live with himself. He could continue to live knowing he quit trying to have hair once again. It was hard with his wife cause she knew him too well to let him get away with it easy. If he said he did it to train, she would test him herself and make sure he was improving. But then the pregnancy happened. As much as 18 assured him she was fine, Krillin could not in good conscious let his wife use so much of her energy on him because of him. Because of his weakness. Not when she carried their first child with her. He sucked it up and pushed through one last time. His head was still a magnet for his hand, the bald-spots were still temptations to quit, but he never did. So much time passed and by the time Marron was born, 18 was able to cut Krillin's hair for him in a way that made all the hairs an equal length. There were no signs of pulling. No signs of missing hair and to this day, no signs of his daughter having to fight his battle. He still had his fair share of moments of weakness. The sting on his scalp would never truly go away and the instinct to remove what felt so wrong was still strong but he fought it. He fought it like every other challenge he faced and in those times where he was not in control of himself, his wife was there to thread her fingers in his own and to keep him from going backwards. Through all of this, his wife will be there and he soon realized that that was all he needed all along. ~!~ So, yeah, I'm not an author. Just a very upset trichotillomania victim forcing her problems on a favorite character. Feel free to ignore.

Dragon Ball 101 :(

This is it!  The finale of the Tien Shinhan Saga and the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai!  We got a lot to cover, so let’s get moving.

Tien’s final gambit to win the tournament was to destroy the entire ring.   Since he can fly and Goku can’t, Goku will have no choice but to land out of bounds, thus giving Tien the victory.   Unless Goku was destroyed along with the ring, of course.  No one can find the li’l guy.  

Which is why I love Chiaotzu’s ominous “He’s alive...”, accompanied by the bead of sweat on his face.   Sometimes, Goku is like this movie monster in the form of a little kid.  You can run, you can hide, you can beat the crap out of him, you can kill him, but then he keeps coming back for more.

Tien’s mistake was in thinking that Goku would only jump high enough to avoid the destruction of the ring.   It didn’t occur to him that he would jump even higher than Tien was floating.   So he flies up to meet him.

You gotta hand it to the tournament announcer.  He came prepared.   There were a few midair battles in the last tournament, but I don’t think any of them required binoculars.   Even so, he brought a pair with him just in case.

Tien is ecstatic to find Goku survived the destruction of the ring.   This might be the happiest he’s been, probably because he’s starting to think ahead to the day he can Goku can fight again.  

As for this fight, the only thing Goku can do is fall, and as soon as he hits the ground it’s all over.   And yet, Goku insists that he has one more attack to secure a victory.  

Goku starts charging up a Kamehameha, putting everything he has into it.   Tien doesn’t see what good that will do, since it won’t save Goku from getting eliminated from the match.    Master Roshi takes that reasoning one step further.   When Krillin suggests that maybe Goku can make a really BIG Kamehameha, Roshi says that it won’t matter, because Kamehameha waves simply don’t work on Tien, regardless of size or potency. 

I’m not sure I understand that.    The only time Tien took a Kamehameha was when Yamcha tried it on him in the first round, and he deflected it, sure, but that’s no different from anyone else blocking any other energy attack.   If Yamcha had been stronger, or if Tien had been tired, things might have gone differently.    At least, that’s what I always assumed.  

Roshi seems to be suggesting that you could shoot a Kamehameha at Tien while he’s asleep and it still wouldn’t hurt him.   If this is true, then Goku seems to have intuited this as well, since he never actually tried it.   The only Kamehameha he’s deployed in this match was to save himself from a ringout a couple of episodes back.

The reason I bring all of this up is because there’s a power-up item in the Xenoverse games called “Haaaaaaaaah!” that just makes your character immune to any Kamehameha moves from any opponents.   It’s especially handy in this one bullshit stage where you have to fight Goku, Gohan, and Goten, and all they do is spam Kamehamehas over and over.   But it’s a Tien thing, and I never understood why it was a Tien thing until now.    I think whoever came up with the item must have been referencing Roshi’s dialogue here. 

In any event, Goku doesn’t use the Kamehameha to attack Tien directly.   Instead, he points it the other way, which drives him head-first into Tien’s gut, which knocks the wind out of him and sends them both falling to the ground.   

So now it’s just a question of which one of them will hit the ground first.  Tien was exhausted from destroying the ring, and he only had enough power left to stay aloft, so taking that headbutt has left him in the same predicament he planned for Goku.    Once again, the World Tournament Announcer came prepared, and he has a little air-cycle that allows him to follow the boys and track their descent.

For a moment, Goku’s actually at a slight disadvantage, but he fires one last Kamehameha, and it’s incredibly weak because he used up all his power on the last one, but it’s just enough to give him a bit of altitude

But that all gets shot to hell about six feet before they hit the ground.   The boys fall over a road, and a truck just happens to crash into Goku, which changes his trajectory enough to knock him to the ground a split second before Tien.   

So there it is.   Your winner and World Champion of Martial Arts, Number One Under the Heavens, Tien Shinhan.   Give him a minute, folks, he’s still kinda groggy.

Everyone at the arena goes nuts and rushes out into the street to find the fighters.   

Huuuuuuge babyface pop for Tien when they find him.   The spectators congratulate both Tien and Goku for putting on such an awesome match, but Tien has no idea how to process this.   Then he sees Master Roshi nod to him and it starts to come together.

Tien would probably have gotten a very different reaction if he had cheated and killed Goku as Crane Hermit had wanted.   But by repudiating the Crane School and embracing his own fighting spirit, Tien has won over the people.   Instead of fearing him, they respect and admire him, and he’s overwhelmed by it.  

Two huge dudes carry Goku and Tien over to each other, and they do the whole mutual respect thing, and Krillin gets all verklempt.   

So does Puar, but he’ll cry over anything really.

Yamcha starts doing the slow clap, and everyone joins in and applauds.   Man, how much would it suck if you did this in real life and no one joined in?  I saw a TV show where that happened and I thought it was funny, but it also filled me with dread.   I’d never dare do the slow clap in real life.   The risk of it backfiring is too great.

Goku doesn’t even mind losing, even though it was so close.  

Goku’s clothes are all wrecked from the fighting, so Krillin gives him his own Turtle Uniform to wear, just like the last tournament.   Tien shows up and offers to split the prize money with Goku, because as far as he’s concerned, their match was a tie.   But Goku doesn’t know how to spend money, so he declines the offer.   What a guy.

Then Yamcha shows up and congratulates Tien on winning the title.  Tien apologizes for breaking Yamcha’s leg, and Yamcha’s like “No worries, bro.”   Yamcha’s a class act all the way.

Roshi asks Tien and Chiaotzu where they’ll go next, and invites them to stay with him, which leads to this moment:

So yeah, Launch (the blonde one anyway) is in love with Tien.   This is not a filler scene.   She says this in the manga too.  But here’s the funny thing I learned.

I had fallen behind on the manga, but I went back and checked to see how things played out with Bulma and Launch, because in the comics, the tournament was done in a single day, while the anime stretched it out into four.  So in the anime, it made sense for Bulma, Launch, and Puar to eventually go back to the stadium to watch the rest of the matches.    In the manga, there wouldn’t have been time for that.   So whenever they show Goku’s friends in the audience, it’s just Oolong and Turtle, because they were the only ones who didn’t go with Yamcha to the hospital.  

That means all the scenes of Launch watching Tien fight after the Yamcha match were filler scenes.   She was in the hospital the entire time, although we do have these panels from the comics showing them listening to the tournament on the radio.   Launch apparently sneezed at some point, since she was Blue during the Tien/Yamcha match, and Blonde here. 

I guess what I’m driving at is that, if you go by the manga, Blonde Launch never actually witnessed Tien’s character arc.   She only got to hear play-by-play of Tien vs. Goku, and maybe Tien vs. Jackie Chun.    At first I wondered if she admired the way Tien broke Yamcha’s leg, except she was Blue Launch when she saw that fight. 

So I’m not entirely sure what Lanch is referring to when she says she’s fallen in love with him.   We in the audience have seen Tien’s “wildness”, so when I first watched this episode, it didn’t surprise me at all.  But in the original story, Blonde Launch missed most of it.   

You know, maybe I’m looking at this all wrong.    Maybe what really got Launch’s attention was Tien’s contrition in the aftermath of the tournament.   She sees him offer Goku half of the purse, and she sees him apologize to Yamcha, and she sees Roshi invite him into his home, and maybe it reminds her of how she got accepted into this group.    She knows of his savagery, but mostly indirectly, and what she sees in person is the other side of his savagery.   Maybe that’s what she connects to.   I’ll have to think about that some more.

Anyway, Tien says that he and Chiaotzu cannot join the Turtle Hermit, although I don’t understand why not.    They’ve already betrayed the Crane Hermit, and I get why that’s a big deal, but that line has already been crossed.   I guess Tien feels that turning against the Crane Hermit was necessary, but dishonoring him further would not be, so he won’t.  

Tien doesn’t say no to being pen pals with Launch, though (sly goku face).

So with all that out of the way, Roshi suggest they all go to dinner, and Tien offers to pay for it.   The only trouble is that Goku left his Nyoibo and Four Star Dragon Ball back at the arena.   Krillin offers to fetch them for him, since he knows Goku’s exhausted and hungry.

Then there’s this super weird lull where Goku watches Krillin run off, and he calls out to him, and we pause on every character’s face while they wait for Goku to say whatever it is he’s going to say, and then he admits that he forgot, and they all sort of laugh it off.   This whole sequence is still ominous to me, after all these years.

But Krillin is late getting back, and everyone’s tired of waiting for him, so they agree to start without him.   Look at Turtle’s little kiddie table, that’s great.   How’s he gonna use those tiny salt and pepper shakers?    That’s adorable.  

Goku gets this weird feeling, and he bolts out of the restaurant without even touching his plate.    He gets to the arena and finds Krillin and the World Tournament Announcer down on the ground.   The Announcer is dazed, but okay.   Krillin, on the other hand...

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU---

This image of Dead Krillin still haunts me.   I watched Z first, and I’d seen Krillin die on that show.   I even half-expected Krilln to die in this show, because in DBZ Goku said that Krillin couldn’t be wished back since he had died once before.  But I never knew when or how, or why it happened in Dragon Ball.

I’m just imagining what a crappy 4k!ds style dub would be like for this scene.  

GOKU: Kevin!  What happened to you, friend?

KRILLIN: (without moving) Land’s sakes, Goku!   Ah was just mindin’ mah own beeswax, when alla sudden this monster moseys on in and grabbed yer Four Star Dragon Ball!   Ah tried to fight the low down dirty varmint, but he was tougher’n a Mississippi mule!  He even spilled some ketchup on me!

GOKU: It’s okay, Kevin.  The important thing is that you weren’t hurt.

Well, this ain’t no 4!kids production.   Krillin’s dead, and someone’s got to pay...

Kame Island Romance: The Article Part 2

Yesterday, I received a promotion at work. My new position has a lot more responsibility and a not-insignificant pay bump. To celebrate, here is a long overdue chapter of Kame Island Romance: The Article. This one is entirely from Krillin’s point-of-view.

Read below or follow the link to FanFiction.Net

<<>>

Rights to Dragonball and related properties are held by their respective owners. No infringement is implied or intended.

Kame Island Romance

By koinekid

1. The Article

Part 2

“We could bribe them,” Yamcha suggested.

“With what?” Krillin said. “I spent all my cash on snacks for tonight.”

As Yamcha fished his pocket for his wallet, Krillin watched his roommates help themselves to another bag of pretzels meant for his guests. All day long, Roshi and Oolong parked in front of the television, consuming their usual fare and evading questions about their plans for the evening.

The TV didn’t bother him. Krillin tuned it out while he and Eighteen busied themselves in the kitchen, working through a stack of board games he dug out of the closet on Wednesday. Since partnering up, she insisted they dedicate every spare moment to “training” for game night. And because Eighteen required so little sleep, she had plenty of moments to spare. Krillin on the other hand…

Following hours of nonstop gameplay that first night, his yawning became too conspicuous to hide. Eighteen, looking abashed, rose from the table without warning. Krillin worried he had offended her, but before he could apologize, she returned and set a mug of instant coffee in front of him. Touched by her simple (and unprecedented) gesture, he wasted no time raising the mug to his lips.

The coffee tasted awful. Eighteen spooned in too many granules and underheated the water. But Krillin drained the cup anyway, and the caffeine kept him awake long enough for Eighteen to earn her first Scrabble victory. Witnessing her genuine delight at finally beating him was worth losing a few hours’ sleep, and though he probably should have discouraged her gloating, he couldn’t suppress a grin as she pumped her fist in celebration.

Thursday morning, he found her at the table studying the printed instructions for the games they had yet to play. He sensed her impatience to continue, but she didn’t press, and he thanked her with a modest breakfast of cereal and juice. No coffee. By the time their bleary-eyed roommates joined them, Eighteen was setting up for Monopoly.

Her preemptive glare silenced any of their potential complaints—at least about the game board. Roshi finally got around to spot-checking the previous day’s grocery receipt and grilled her about the purchase of a certain magazine. Eighteen cooly suggested he regard such expenses as her delivery fee.

Friday afternoon brought another interruption as Yamcha arrived to pick up Krillin for a trip to the supermarket. The two had agreed to shop for snacks and talk strategy in the hours prior to the event. Eighteen wasn’t pleased and told Krillin to hurry back, taking his hand and slipping him her store discount card and a couple of capsules.

He tried to avoid reading too much into her actions: a hasty return meant more time to practice before their guests arrived; the card directed them to the market nearest the island; the capsules enabled them to fly rather than take the slower air car. And the fact that she held his hand longer than necessary with her thumb ever so slightly stroking his palm?

“She digs you, bro,” Yamcha insisted on the way to the market, and Krillin was starting to believe him. At the very least, he intended to give the mystery guy she was dating the fight of his life.

Back home, while Yamcha negotiated with Roshi and Oolong, Krillin wandered to the doorway separating the living room from the kitchen. He found Eighteen as he left her, leaning against the table and shuffling a deck of cards. With a crook of her finger, she beckoned him to join her.

“I should stay close in case Yamcha needs backup.” He gestured to the living room.

“You could do that.” Eighteen nodded, her pearl drop earrings dancing with the movement. She had forgone her usual hoops for a pair matching her favorite necklace. “Or you could let the ballplayer handle the pervs and hang out here. Assuming you aren’t sick of me.”

He gave her his best you-must-be-kidding-me look. “Never.”

“Are you sure? We’ve spent a lot of time together lately.”

“And I wouldn’t trade a minute of it.”

A smile blossomed on Eighteen’s face, and Krillin found himself struck by her beauty. Never unattractive, she had taken special care with her appearance tonight, ditching her usual blue denim and opting for a pink sweater and black slacks. It was the most overtly feminine outfit he’d ever seen her wear, and he took satisfaction that she chose it for an event he asked her to attend.

“Eighteen?”

“Yes, Krillin?” She set down the cards.

“You look—” He cataloged the words he wanted to use—gorgeous, breathtaking, perfect—before settling on— “beautiful. I just thought you should know.”

She murmured a thank-you so quiet he almost missed it. But the rosy hue of her cheeks said what her voice could not.

The whole scheme of game night seemed suddenly foolish to Krillin. He should tell Eighteen how he felt and let the pieces fall where they may. What’s the worst that could happen?

She could reject him, storm out, and move in with her ridiculously rich, six-foot-tall boyfriend.

No, something in that moment told Krillin that’s not at all what would occur.

He opened his mouth to speak when the voices from the living room reached a new volume. Before he could stop himself, he glanced back.

Soft laughter drew his attention to Eighteen. “Sounds like someone needs backup. Better go rescue him, hero.”

Krillin shook his head. “No, you were right. Yamcha can handle himself. I—“

“You would never abandon a friend, Krillin. I know that firsthand, and it’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

“But—“

“I’ll be here when you get back. Now, go before I change my mind.”

He wanted to plow ahead and reveal his feelings, but Eighteen was paying him a huge compliment. The last thing he should do was prove her wrong by leaving a friend to fend for himself—even if that friend would agree with his decision.

“Krillin,” she called out as he headed for the door. “I just wanted to say that you...look good too.”

Glancing down at the khakis and blue Oxford he changed into upon his return from the market, he shrugged. “Clothes make the man.”

She bit her lip.“I wasn’t talking about the clothes.”

As he blinked in surprise, she seated herself at the table and began an intense study of her deck of playing cards. He recalled one of their Scrabble rounds from a couple of days ago. During gameplay, he caught her staring at him more than once. Whenever he met her gaze, her eyes dropped to study the letter tiles on her rack with as much attention as she now gave the cards. At the time, he thought she was searching for a tell on what passed for his poker face. What if she was just staring because...?

Because...

He entered the living room with a bounce to his step. She thinks I’m handsome. She actually thinks—

Yamcha’s growl of frustration interrupted Krillin’s thoughts. Any progress his friend had made on getting the others out the door was apparently quite minimal.

“Come on, guys,” Yamcha said. “I already gave you enough for a decent meal.”

Roshi shook his head. “It isn’t every day one of my beloved students declares his intent for a gorgeous babe. This demands a five-star restaurant.”

“You told them!” Krillin said.

“He sure did,” Oolong replied. “And we’re holding a celebration in your honor. Got any singles?”

Krillin glared at Yamcha.

“Sorry, bro. They wouldn’t even consider leaving without an explanation.”

“It’s not like it’s much of a shock.” Oolong snorted. “The way you two are mooning over one another lately...it’s frankly disgusting.”

Roshi hopped off the couch and threw an arm around Krillin. “My boy, I’m proud of you. It’s about time you made a move, and you couldn’t find a better girl if you asked the dragon for one.”

“Master, is your hand in my pocket?”

“I, er—“

“If you’re looking for my wallet, as I said earlier, I spent all my money on those snacks you two have been shoveling in. I’m tapped.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

“Well, good luck, boy.” Roshi hopped back on the couch.

Krillin looked to Yamcha, who sighed and over-dramatically retrieved the wallet from his pocket. Roshi stood in front of him in a heartbeat, palm extended, and Yamcha handed over a fistful of zenni. Oolong replaced Roshi a moment later.

“That was for both of you,” Yamcha protested, but the pig only made a gimme motion.

“And we’ll need a ride to the mainland,” Oolong said. “The old man lost the capsule containing our air car.”

“Fine, fine,” Yamcha said. “I have to pick up my date anyway.” To himself, he muttered, “And stop by an ATM.” At Roshi and Oolong’s excited looks, he amended, “After I drop off you two.”

As Yamcha started to lead his entourage out of the living room, Krillin thought he spied a flash of blonde hair in the doorway. He narrowed his eyes, but as he entered the kitchen, he found Eighteen seated at the table exactly as he left her. She looked as if she hadn’t moved a centimeter.

On his way past, Yamcha paused at the table. “Eighteen, would you mind helping Krillin set up for game night. I’d do it myself but I’ve been corralled into playing chauffeur.”

Eighteen rolled her eyes. “Why not? I thought I was a guest, but apparently I’m a host as well.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said. “I should be back before the others arrive. You two behave yourselves in the meantime.”

He winked at Krillin, and Roshi offered a thumbs-up as they departed.

When the door closed, Krillin came to stand next to Eighteen. He debated asking what she overheard but figured she would bring it up if she wanted to. Forcing the issue would only lead to an awkward conversation. He also abandoned the notion of confessing his feelings. For now, the moment had passed.

“You don’t really have to help set up,” he said. “I can manage by myself.”

Her irritated brow smoothed. “I don’t mind. Kame House is my home too, and how it looks reflects on me.”

“Thanks.” Something clicked into place for Krillin. “Wait, you were just giving Yamcha a hard time, weren’t you?”

She shrugged. “Can’t have our friends thinking I’ve grown soft.”

“You? Impossible. One of us has to be the badass.”

“One of us?”

“Uh, I—I mean...”

“I like that. We are partners, after all.”

He offered a hand. “Well then, partner, care to join me in whipping this place into shape?”

She placed her hand in his. “Krillin, I’m all yours.”

<<>>

To be continued

Thanks for reading; reviews, like, reblogs, etc. are appreciated. 

Thanks to @chestnutisland and @deadlybeautydbz for keeping the flames of the fandom burning steadily.

How the Ex-Monk Gained a Brother Part Two

Rights to Dragonball and related properties are held by their respective owners. No infringement is implied or intended.

How the Ex-Monk Gained a Brother

A Sequel to By Any Other

By koinekid

Part Two

The monk was meditating again. At least, that’s how it appeared to Lapis, floating high above the island. Every morning, the little guy rose before dawn, trained for hours on one of the nearby islands, and then returned to sit quietly on the beach. Lapis admired his dedication if nothing else. He never trained that hard himself. But then, he didn’t need to; his modifications granted him more power than the monk could obtain training for a dozen lifetimes. It almost didn’t seem fair.

The cyborg wondered not for the first time what his sister saw in the monk. Maybe she considered him a pet. One of the magazines she left behind at Lapis' cabin contained pictures of an heiress carrying a tiny dog in her purse. Ha! That had to be it. Lazuli wanted a miniature martial artist to stash in her handbag.

But no, her phone calls told a different story. Since her departure, she called Lapis regularly once every other week. The calls were awkward at first with long stretches of silence as if she were reluctant to talk. But after a few weeks, she spoke freely. Krillin, she explained, installed an extension in her room rather than force her to make calls from the kitchen, where the entire household would overhear her side of the conversation.

Krillin. Lapis probably recognized Lazuli’s growing attachment to the monk before she did. The bulk of their phone conversations revolved around Krillin in some way. It was always some joke he told or some book he recommended, or something he did for her out of the blue. It was clear the monk liked his sister and just as clear that she liked him back.

Lapis tried to dismiss her interest as making the best of a bad situation. Compared to the old man and the pig, whose antics she described in depth over the phone, any decent male would look like a prince. But Lazuli could have left the island at any time. She chose to stay—because of Krillin.

When Lapis urged his sister to move out of his isolated cabin, he knew she would never return. Still, he ended every phone call by asking when she planned to come home. Both recognized it as a joke. Even if she left the island, the cabin would never again be her home, and Lapis already converted her old room into extra storage. She always responded with a snide comment: When you clean up that pig sty of a living room or After you throw out those animal heads you call trophies.

But during one call nearly eight months ago, her response to that question took a serious turn.

“I—I am home,” she said.

He didn’t know quite what to say and settled on: “Life at the beach agrees with you, then. Big shock.”

“It isn’t the beach. It’s Krillin.”

Lapis wasn’t upset—he knew it was only a matter of time—but it did ruin a perfectly good running gag. Fortunately, he thought of a replacement almost immediately: “Am I invited to the wedding?”

“Grow up, Lapis. We’ve only been dating for a week.”

That joke too was ruined after his sister “accidentally” discovered her future engagement ring in the monk’s desk drawer. She claimed not to be snooping, but knowing his sister…

“I want you two to meet,” she told him. “As friends rather than enemies.”

“Why?”

“If Krillin is going to be your brother, you should get to know him.”

“But, Laz—”

“Lapis.”

He sighed, defeated. All was lost once she resorted to her mom-voice. Lapis called it that because it brought to mind the memories of their mother and her special tone of voice that brooked no refusal and let you know there would be hell to pay if you defied her. Lazuli claimed not to remember their mother’s voice; maybe not, but she did a great impression.

So, with little choice in the matter, he agreed to meet the monk. But he never agreed to meet him blind. For the past couple of weeks, he’d been observing the monk and mapping his routine. And he was still having trouble discovering what made him such an attractive mate to Lazuli.

Lapis was ready to end the day’s surveillance when the front door of the house opened and his sister stepped onto the beach. The monk, five meters away with his back to the house, didn’t register her presence. Lapis narrowed his eyes. The way Lazuli was acting, she didn’t want the monk to notice her.

She eased the door shut and approached him slowly like a cat stalking her prey. Lapis wondered at her clothing—tan shorts, a yellow tank top and bare feet—and it came to him. He recalled the subtle noises made by the denim and long sleeves of her usual outfits and the crunch of her boots on the ground as she walked. Lazuli had dressed for a stealth attack.

When she closed the distance between herself and the monk to a meter, she crouched and pounced…

And ended up with a face full of sand, sprawled on the beach as the monk leapt to the side, easily avoiding her attack.

It took all of Lapis’ self-control not to burst out laughing. He didn’t know what the little guy did to tick her off, but it was all over. She was about to murder him.

Lazuli rolled over and glared at the monk, and Lapis was just close enough to hear her shout, “Every time!”

The monk spoke too softly for Lapis to make out his response, only Lazuli replying, “How could you sense me? I don’t use chi.”

The monk shrugged and held out a hand to help Lazuli to her feet. But she sprang to a crouch and launched herself at him. She threw a flurry of punches—a surprising number of which he managed to block. They grappled, but she quickly overpowered the monk and pinned him to the ground.

After a moment, they both laughed, and she lowered her head to press her mouth against his.

Lapis took that as his cue to depart.

<<>>

Lazuli sealed her victory with a kiss, not bothering to glance toward the house and check for an audience. Being affectionate with her boyfriend in front of their roommates no longer troubled her. Besides, she needed to get her fill of him now, she wasn’t certain how comfortable she would be kissing in front of her brother.

“I was trying to meditate,” Krillin said when the kiss ended. “I already trained this morning.”

“Then you should have been ready for a fight.”

“I got distracted.”

“By what?”

He looked pointedly at her tank top.

“Oh, you find me distracting, do you? Shall I change?” She made as if to rise, but he hooked fingers into her belt loops and held her in place.

“Don’t. I like this new wardrobe.”

They kissed leisurely, and she shuddered when Krillin’s thumbs began teasing the taut skin of her stomach beneath her shirt. Best not get too wound up out here. “Come on,” she said. “Let me go, and I’ll cook you breakfast.”

She patted his arm, and reluctantly he released her. Both sat up, and Krillin slid over and slipped an arm around her waist—not ready to let her go just yet.

“You’ve been cooking a lot lately.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No way. I like it. It’s very domestic.”

She blushed, and he nuzzled her arm.

“Not that cooking is automatically a woman’s job or anything. I just mean—”

“I like cooking for you, Krillin, and you have to admit I’ve improved a lot.”

“Definitely, though you weren’t bad to begin with.”

Lazuli’s repertoire had grown from simple scrambled eggs and toast to include sausage, bacon (made from turkey as a concession to Oolong), and even pancakes and waffles. She planned to try her hand at omelets soon, and once she mastered breakfast, look out!

Her new interest in the culinary arts shocked her roommates, and she even surprised herself by leaving the mall one weekend with a waffle iron and several pots and pans, but not a stitch of new clothing. She made up for it during her next trip, but it was clear her priorities were changing.

“My brother will certainly be shocked.”

“I take it you didn’t cook when you lived with him.”

“Just once. He wouldn’t let me near the stove after the fire.”

“That’s not why you moved out, is it?” Krillin teased.

“No, but I don’t think our relationship would have survived living under the same roof for much longer.”

Krillin rubbed her arm in sympathy. “Have you spoken to Seventeen recently?”

“Yesterday.”

“Does he know we’re together?”

“Of course. I told him months ago.”

Krillin looked uncomfortable at that. Lazuli frowned. “What? You practically begged me to let you tell your friends. I can’t tell my brother?”

“I didn’t beg. And yeah, you can tell him. I just fear for my life a little is all.”

“He won’t attack you, Krillin, and even if he did—”

“I don’t like the sound of that if.”

“I’d kick his butt, make him eat sand, like when we were kids.”

“Lazuli, you were a little bully.”

“Only to him…I think.” She shrugged, then grew serious. “It’s important that the two people who matter most to me in the world get along. Will you at least try?”

Krillin sighed. “You ought to know by now I’d do anything for you. But you will be close by if he ever visits?”

“Promise.” She squeezed his knee. “And you mean when he visits, right?”

“Yeah, you can invite him over. Just give me advanced notice so I can get my affairs in order.”

“How much advanced notice?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because he’ll be here tomorrow.”

The color drained from Krillin’s face. “Tomorrow?”

“You agreed to it.”

“When?”

“Last week when we were watching that Jackie Chun movie.”

“I don’t—wait, you were massaging my scalp. I would have agreed to anything then.”

Lazuli nodded. “That’s what made it a good time to ask.”

“Th-that’s not fair.”

“Krillin.” She paused, deciding to take a different approach. “He’s going to be a member of your family some day.”

That ended his protests. “Yeah?”

She stood and pulled him to his feet, keeping her hands entwined with his. “Yeah. I know we haven’t formally discussed our plans for the future, but I think I know where we’re headed, don’t you?”

He blushed and nodded.

“This is one step down that path.” She almost said down the aisle, but that would have been too much. “I can’t exactly bring you home to ‘meet the parents,’ but what I can do is invite the one family member I have left to meet…my intended.”

She was about to offer to call Lapis and cancel the visit. She didn’t want to, but If Krillin were this uncomfortable, she wouldn’t hold him to a promise he hadn’t really meant.

He brought her thoughts up short with a kiss. “All right, babe, you win. Tell my future brother I can’t wait to meet him.”

To be continued

Note: Thanks to everyone for your enthusiasm for this series, and thanks to @deadlybeautydbz and @chestnutisland for inspiring the K18 community to continue producing.

Thanks for reading; comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated.