Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Broken Seal ❯ Office Hours ( Chapter 4 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

The atmosphere of the once busy, happy other-world had changed considerably from what it had been earlier that morning. As Krillin cruised above the rolling hills and lush pastures, he found it a challenge to spot any souls at all. The temperate breeze that had once relayed the cheery babbling of intermingled conversations was now empty and bland. Lonely and discontented, it meandered over the landscape whispering quietly to itself as if trying to compensate for the loss of discourse.

Occasionally, the shrieking of sirens emanating from beyond the horizon broke the silence. Like the mournful cry of restless spirits, they seemed to ward off any who might approach and suffer whatever fate had befallen them in life. The meadows were empty, taking on a foreboding nature, no longer promising an eternity of peace. In its place, it offered an oppressive solitude in which one might spend forever going quietly mad.

Krillin shivered as the air currents tumbled over his body. Though the air was warm, the frigid silence that it brought chilled the fighter to his core.

"I hope I get there soon." Krillin muttered, preferring to address himself rather than restricting the observation to thought. With this utterance he sought to break the deafening hush, but the relief was short lived as the quietness came crashing back upon the unsettled warrior. Indeed, Krillin wished dearly to arrive at the check in station soon so that he might find the comfort of company.

Just as Krillin was beginning to think he might spend his entire afterlife in transit over the desolate fields the horizon ahead began to change. A sickly yellow haze was separating the blushing pink sky and serene blue grasslands that had previously been locked in a reclining kiss. As the journey wore on, the band of vapour drove the heavens and the earth further apart. The cloud continued off to infinity, shifting and turning over on itself like a gently rolling seascape. At the shore of the nebulous ocean stood a large, imposing building constructed in the in an oriental style which dominated Krillin's view. The edifice gazed down authoritatively upon a single, cobbled path that reached out a few hundred meters from the doorway toward the incoming fighter before gradually fading from existence.

Krillin withdrew some of his ki, which slowed his approach considerably as he coasted over the pathway where lengthy queue had formed consisting of a multitude of ill-defined forms. He squinted and tried to make out an outline for the patiently queuing objects. Krillin recognised these as the incoming souls from Earth and beyond, waiting for final judgement to be passed upon them. However, there was something peculiar about the rank of spirits. From his own memory, he recalled that the operation at the check in station was most efficient, and that generally the line moved quite quickly. This didn't seem to be the case from Krillin's current vantage point however, as file of auras seemed to be totally stationary but for their candle like flickering.

Reaching the front of the office building, Krillin eased off his energy and dropped gently to the ground. His feet were greeted by the soft hiss of the grass which, unlike the waltzing foliage near his home, was carefully cut and rolled to form orderly ranks about half a meter across that stood guard parallel to the pathway.

Along the path itself, the souls of the recently deceased abided patiently to be attended to by the mighty King Yemma.

Krillin took a moment to observe the resting spirits. The sight was in fact quite beautiful. Each of the souls appeared as brilliant white sphere, surrounded by a translucent flame that fluttered and danced around the central concentration. Every one of these mesmerising wisps represented a person. Stripped of appearance and pretence, they were the distilled essence of there former selves. Looking at them, Krillin felt he could reach out with his own spirit and perhaps touch someone's inner being, revealing dimensions to their existence that might never have been revealed in life. It was this perfect honesty and vulnerability that afforded the auras a supernatural beauty that transcended the physical world.

"Excuse me." a voice shattered Krillin's quiet contemplation of the shimmering orbs, "Excuse me, can I help you?"

It was an effort for Krillin to tear his gaze from the enchanting apparitions, but persevering, he was eventually able to turn from them and look to his addresser. Before him stood a skinny, pink skinned demon dressed in a most unusual manner. The humanoid creature, decked in white shirt, striped tie and tiger striped trousers, stared hard at Krillin through thick, black-framed spectacles.

"Hello? Is there anybody home?" the demon enquired flippantly in an eloquent, nasal voice.

"Right. Yeah." Krillin began in an unsure tone, "Um, my name's Krillin. Er, if it's not to much trouble, I'd like to speak with King Yemma."

There was an awkward void in the discourse. For a time, the demon simply stared at Krillin with an expressionless face. It was as if he had not quite understood what the fighter had asked of him. Krillin raised his right and placed it against the clammy skin on the back of his neck. Uncomfortable with the prolonged eye contact, he turned his gaze downwards.

"You want to see King Yemma?" the break in the silence finally came, "You want to see King Yemma?!"

Krillin was taken aback by the aggressive response to his inquiry.

"Well. yeah. There's something I'd really like to talk to him about, if that's okay." He told the demon.

"Hmph. You and the rest of the other dimension." The demon snapped, gesturing to the still waiting row of souls.

Krillin peered over the demon's shoulder and the tarrying multitude. It was then that he noticed another oddity. The doors to King Yemma's were closed, the two towering, angry-red wooden sentinels standing guard across the doorway blocking any entry to the building. During the entire course of both Krillin's visits to the afterlife, he had never seen this happen. King Yemma had always been there, doors open, ready to receive incoming deceased.

"Well if he's not here, then where can I find him?" Krillin asked. The demon raised his eyebrows.

"I wish I knew! All I know is that I got into work this morning, and he tells me he's leaving the office. For the first time in four hundred years, he's leaving the office! Four hundred years without so much as a bathroom break, and suddenly he goes walk about." At this stage, Krillin opened his mouth in an attempt to break into the discontented monologue but was cut off instantly. The demon had taken Krillin's question as an invitation to off load his pet peeves, "I asked him where he was going, but no. It's 'private and confidential', he says. Of course, no one tells me anything around here. They're quick enough to call me when they want something, though. 'Take this soul to east elysium', 'take those souls to west elysium', 'give that soul a lift to snake way'. Do you have any idea what it costs to insure a car for myself and an entire afterlife full of passengers?! I wouldn't mind, but they don't even pay for my gas consumption!"

Krillin endured the ceaseless torrent of rants for a few more anger soaked sentences before finally prising his way into the conversation.

"Look," Krillin said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible, "is there anyone here who can help me?"

The demon's expression softened, his tensed shoulders fell at ease.

"Hmm. I suppose that depends on what it is you want." The demon said, the disgruntlement no longer evident in his voice.

Though he had come to get an explanation of the alarming goings-on on his property earlier that day, Krillin was doubtful of whether that would a wise question to ask. He suspected that all the strange events of the day were in some way linked and that, if King Yemma's tight-lipped behaviour towards his own staff was anything to go by, he was unlikely to get any useful response to his inquiry. Thinking hard about his subsequent question, he recalled what the disagreeable police captain had said to him.

"A complaint!" Krillin exclaimed, as he was touched by the gracious hand of inspiration. He then realised his own freakish enthusiasm might arouse suspicion, and quickly calmed himself, "Um, I'd like to make a complaint.please."

At this, the demon drew his head back and his eyebrows shot skywards. Taken aback by Krillin's request he dithered for a moment, and then gathered himself once more.

"A complaint." He said, looking over Krillin's head at nothing in particular, "We, uh.we don't get many of those." He observed. The demon then raised a clawed hand, and began to scratch at the wreath of black hair that protruded from the base of the solitary, ebony horn that crowned his head. "Hmm, I guess you could go to deceased services. They have an inquiry booth just around the corner." The demon accompanied the information with a gesture towards the corner of the building behind Krillin.

The fighter glanced over his shoulder, then back at the demon.

"Thanks." He said with a grateful smile, "See you around."

"No problem." The demon replied, "Have a nice day."

The two then turned from one another and parted company, each heading for their own allotted business. As Krillin strode towards the corner of the office building, he could hear the demon's distinctive tones as he worked at maintaining order among the queue of delayed spirits.

"You! Back in line!" he ordered. There then came a short silence before the demon continued, "Don't give me any backchat, mister! I've seen your record and you're in enough trouble as it is!"

Krillin chuckled to himself at the sound of the demon apparently talking to himself, and continued on his way to the deceased services booth.

Rounding the corner he was confronted with the sight of a lengthy wall, which reached away to the edge of the office grounds, and ended abruptly as terra firma plunged into the opaque yellow clouds. The wall was interrupted by only a small window about a third the way down its length, and a mammoth archway ten meters further on. There was no activity what so ever. Leaning away from the wall, Krillin tried to achieve a better angle from which observe the squared, glass-covered hollow.

"I guess that's were I'm going." He muttered, shrugging his shoulders. The fighter then set off along side the wall.

As he travelled the building's perimeter, Krillin contemplated several things. He tried to guess what could have resulted in the altercation that had taken place outside his home earlier on, and wondered what might cause such a cryptic change in King Yemma's usual routine. A small portion of thought was also given over to how the voice the demon manning the office doors was reminiscent of Woody Allen. But for the most part, Krillin mulled over what he would say upon reaching the inquiry booth. Though he was distressed by the destruction wrought by the rogue warriors, he didn't have any real intention of complaining. All he wanted was to know what was going on. But the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed he was going to get the answers he needed through these channels.

Krillin was now nearing the booth, but still had little idea of what he would say; I suppose I'll just have to wing it; he thought to himself.

Upon stepping before the booth Krillin was confronted by his own mirror image, staring back at him quizzically from the shimmering pane of glass. Beyond the window was total darkness. It was like staring into a vat of crude oil. There didn't appear to be anyone manning the post.

"Hello?" Krillin called out timidly.

Krillin pressed his hands down against the short counter that extended from below the window, but quickly withdrew them as they were met with a soft, grainy texture. The fighter looked down to see his own handprints impressed upon a thick layer of dust and grime. He then looked to his hands, finding them also to be coated in filth.

"Ugh." He muttered, and began to brush the muck away on his tunic, "They mustn't have much use for this place."

Indeed, the deserted booth did appear to be in a state of total disuse. It did make sense to Krillin, though. After all, how often would one expect a complaint in a land of infinite peace and joy?

Something caught Krillin's eye. To the right of the kiosk there was a small, golden button. It was situated at the heart of an ornate dragon's head, no bigger than the palm of Krillin's hand. The miniature metallic beast had been captured mid-roar, and had the button set into the back of its gaping jaws. Below the button there was a plaque. Both examples of metalwork had their contours accentuated by layers of dirt that had worked their way into every groove and depression. The plaque read, 'Ring For Attention'. Krillin looked about one last time, then reached out for the button with his right index finger.

Krillin's finger was about to pass between the needle-like teeth of the brass dragon when he caught wind of what sounded like whispering. The stream of words was weak and intermittent, but it was definitely the sound of conversing voices. Krillin retracted his finger, and listened carefully to murmuring. Individual words were elusive, and almost indistinguishable from the mournful lament of the winds that swirled about the roof and ramparts of the palatial office block. Looking further down the wall, Krillin saw the archway once more. He was almost certain that this was the place from which the voices were emanating. Consumed with curiosity, Krillin abandoned his efforts to attract attention to the service desk, and began to stealthily make his way towards the arch. Moving further along the wall, Krillin kept a close ear on the sound so as not to lose it to the rambling breeze.

Upon reaching the archway, he pressed his back up against the wall. Carefully, he peered round the corner. Beyond the arch lay a large, open courtyard. The expanse was carpeted with the same neatly mowed grass that surrounded the outer boundary of the building, and was encompassed by walls similar to those that composed the building's exterior. Orderly ranks of well-groomed shrubbery stood motionless around periphery of the courtyard like troops falling in for inspection. Krillin could not see the whole area from his vantage point, but he could see the parties responsible for the hushed uttering. There, stood with his back to a large open door, was yet another demon. Similar in appearance and apparel to his colleague at the entrance, he was placed at the feet of a monstrous creature far larger than any of those Krillin had encountered elsewhere on the other side. The terrifying ogre's face was a deep hue of pink and partially obscured by a forest of thick black facial hair. It was dressed in a business suit similar in colour to its own skin pigmentation, and wore a hat of the same tone drawn on over two bovine horns. This was the mighty King Yemma.

Krillin was in luck. It appeared that Yemma had not yet left as the demon at the front of the building had thought. Listening carefully, Krillin once more attempted to ascertain the subject of the conversation. Unfortunately, he was able to discern precious few words, certainly not enough to glean any useful information.

The conversation dried up, and the two turned away from one another. The smaller demon melted into the darkness beyond the open doors, which promptly closed behind him. Yemma's ponderous bulk also began to shift. Krillin ducked behind the wall as the ogre's turning circle brought his field of vision across where he had been peeking out. After a few seconds, the fighter took the chance of peering out once more.

Yemma was now making his way across the grassy courtyard. Krillin craned his neck around the wall in an effort to see where the ogre was going. Then, for a terrifying instant, he thought he might lose his balance. With an almost inaudible yelp, the warrior froze, and waited for King Yemma to amble out of sight. There he teetered on the brink of discovery for what seemed like hours. Yemma was moving infuriatingly slowly.

"C'mon, c'mon." Krillin rasped under his breath, willing the ogre onwards.

Only when he was certain that the monstrous monarch would not notice, did he allow himself to set one foot forward and regain his equilibrium. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Krillin leaned over once again to re- establish his lock on the ogre.

Yemma was now standing along side a crimson, open topped car. Lacking wheels in much the same way as the police van Krillin had encountered earlier on, it rested on its belly in the middle of the gardens. This vehicle also had curvaceous bodywork and was surrounded at its base by a continuous chrome bumper, which displayed a warped reflection of its surroundings on its polished surface.

Without bothering to open the door, King Yemma began to clamber into the car. His grunts of effort were accompanied by the whining of the chassis as the gargantuan driver strained to haul himself over the side. The car seemed to be having as much difficulty with the ogre as the ogre was having with it as, all though it was much larger than the average car back on earth, it was still far cry from being to scale with the behemoth Yemma.

The sight of the huge King trying to work his way into the woefully undersized vehicle was quite comical. Krillin, sporting an amused smirk, drew his head back around the edge of the arch. However, the fighter's jovial expression belied the seriousness of his contemplation. Krillin had no idea where Yemma was going, and as he listened to the grunts and curses divulged by the ogre as he set about the near impossible task of wedging himself into the driver's seat, he knew he had limited time to decide on his next course of action.

Peering around the corner again, Krillin saw King Yemma sitting in the car. The mighty ogre was still shifting about trying to achieve optimum comfort. The fighter realised that if he wanted to know King Yemma's destination, then there was only one way for him to find out. Ducking down, he prepared to step out into the open. Then, he hesitated.

Krillin recognised this moment. It was a moment that had occurred before at the beginning of each of his adventures. Now was the time that he could back out. Simply stand up and walk away. If he persisted beyond this milestone, he knew that he would have embarked upon a journey from which there could be no turning back. Krillin looked over his shoulder to the distant horizon. Just beyond the faraway limits of what he could see lay his new home. Quiet and safe, he could go back there and sit out what was to come, letting someone else deal with whatever trials lay ahead. There he could truly rest, and enjoy the peace he had earned in life.

But Krillin knew he could never be content in such an existence. Though he had fretted through all those times he had spent in fear, pain and uncertainty, he could never trade them in for the mundane, mediocre existence that might satisfy another man. And for all he knew, this could be his last ever shot at an adventure in this infinitely tranquil realm.

"Why break the habit of a lifetime." He sighed.

Then, crouching down once more he peered out at King Yemma, and prepared to make his move.