Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Deeper Than Colour -- The Kioku Story ❯ As the Years Go By ( Chapter 9 )

Disclaimer: I do not own DB/Z/GT. I don't own "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart, either. And since it's close to exams, I don't have a funny disclaimer. *sniffle* . . . I feel like such a failure!!

A/N: Um . . . yeah. It's been a long time. So no preamble from me. Just read it.

Deeper Than Colour - The Kioku Story

Chapter Nine: As The Years Go By

The first thing Kioku noticed was the gravity - the air on Kaiou-sama's planet was much heavier than on Earth. However, he (and Dad, Father, and Vegeta-san) was pleased to note that he and Trunks had progressed enough in their training that the 100 times Earth's gravity did not bother them at all.

"Well now, I see you've made it in record time," said the round, blue thing that stood in front of them. Kioku, not one to stare by nature, couldn't help but gape at the long antennae, wide, smiling mouth, and strange clothing. This was the mighty Kaiou-sama, the Lord of the Worlds? Good heavens!

"Ahem, a little respect would be nice," Kaiou-sama declared pointedly, giving Kioku a disapproving, yet still genial, stare. "I know I'm handsome and all, but there's no need to be jealous."

Kioku felt blood rushing to his cheeks, and he looked away. Enma Dai-Ou, Kaiou-sama, Father . . . why did they all have to be telepathic?

"Because I'm omniscient," the catfish-thing said in a smug voice. He folded his hands behind his back and looked at the two boys. "You made it across the Serpent Road in little over a day - Chikyuu time, that is. That is good - very, very good. I'm impressed. Now. I've been informed that you want to train to fight the jinzouningen?"

Kioku nodded silently. His throat was a parched from lack of water, but he didn't quite understand it. If he was dead, why was he thirsty?

"It's a quirk," Father broke in, looking at Kioku. "Son's always hungry, too."

"Oh," Kioku rasped.

Trunks looked annoyed. "Will ya' all quit talkin' in yer heads? It's really hard to know what's goin' on when you don't talk full!"

"Sorry."

"You're thirsty, eh?" Kaiou-sama smiled, then clapped his hands together. "Bubbles! Bring some food and water for ours guests," he then fixed them with a look of concentration, reminiscent of the stare Enma Dai-Ou had given them earlier. "You may eat and drink after you pass the test."

At this, Father groaned and slapped his forehead. Vegeta-san raised an eyebrow in mild curiosity, and Dad frowned. "Do they have to?" Dad complained. "We don't exactly have time for this, you know."

Kaiou-sama looked disdainful, and he sniffed indignantly. "I train all you warriors for free - the least you can do is give me some laughs every once in a while. Sheesh! Now, boys, your test is to make me laugh!"

Trunks gaped. "What? That's gotta' be the stupidest -"

"Boy," Vegeta snapped, and Trunks closed his mouth.

"Thank you, Vegeta," said Kaiou-sama primly. "If you do not pass this test, then I'm sorry, but you will have to go back. It's tough, but that's the way it is. Your fathers had to do it, too."

Kioku frowned, then closed his eyes and entered the forest of his memory, searching to see if the Lord of the Worlds was telling the truth. After a bit of dodging, he found a long-buried memory, hidden in a "stump" . . . clearly Father had wanted to forget it.

The memory involved Yamucha-san, Tenshinhan-san, Chaozu-san, all three obviously wracking their brains to think of something amusing. Yamucha-san got one right away, but Tenshinhan-san was hard pressed. It finally took prompting from both the others and numerous false tries to get Kaiou-sama to laugh . . . and through it all, Father stood apart, crossing his arms.

Kioku didn't think Kaiou-sama would be fooled if he recycled an old joke - the Lord of Worlds looked like he would remember any jokes told him. In desperation, Kioku dredged up a conversation that he and Trunks had had years ago - it had seemed funny to them as toddlers, so perhaps it would work.

"Um, okay . . . um, there were two, um sausages in a frying pan. And they were being cooked. The first sausage turned to the second sausage and said, 'Wow, it's really hot in here!', and the second sausage said, 'Yes, it certainly is.' Then the first sausage said, 'Yipes! It's a talking sausage!'"

Within a heartbeat, Kaiou-sama had burst into peals of hysterical laughter. "Very good, m'boy, very good . . . 'talking sausage' indeed . . . hee, hee, hee!" at last he regained his composure. "Well, you have succeeded. That leaves only you, son of Vegeta."

Trunks planted his hands on his hips, then rolled his eyes in submission. "Oh, okay. I'll try to think of one . . . but it's not easy, ya' know," he added. "I've been trainin' to fight, and I was just killed a couple days ago, so it's not like I have anything funny in mind or something . . ."

Everyone stared at him as the boy went into various thinking poses, each more ridiculous than the last. Kioku could tell Trunks was trying to make Kaiou-sama laugh by making funny faces, but it didn't look like that was about to work. At last, the boy laughed softly to himself.

"Aha!" Trunks exclaimed. "Okay, I've got one. How many Enma Dai-Ous does it take to change a lightbulb?"

"How many?" Kaiou-sama asked dutifully.

"One. He just stands on the ladder and waits for the universe to revolve around him!" Trunks finished triumphantly.

Kaiou-sama stood and blinked at him for a few seconds, then his mouth quivered and he covered it with his hands. "Stands on a ladder . . . revolve around him . . . BWAHAHAHA!" he exploded into laughter, rolling on the ground and clutching his ample sides. "Ohh, that's a good one . . ." Kaiou-sama gasped. "It's a good thing Enma Dai-Ou can't hear us from here . . ."

Trunks smirked and flashed a peace sign. Dad laughed appreciatively, but Vegeta-san and Father just stared. Kioku didn't get it either, but didn't say anything. "Sometimes I wonder if he really is mine," Vegeta-san mused, glancing at Piccolo.

"He's yours, all right," Piccolo affirmed. "No one else could have fathered something that bizarre."

"Har, har, har. Funny, Namekusejin. At least mine wasn't speaking of talking foodstuffs."

Kaiou-sama clasped his hands behind his back again, and his broad face split into a smile. "Those were the best jokes I've heard in a long time," he declared. "Your fathers are strong fighters, but not very proficient in the way of humour. I suggest they take some lessons from you boys. . . . And as promised, you may eat now."

A large monkey bounded out of the small house, making random "Ook, ook!" noises and waving its arms. Kaiou-sama indicated they were to follow the creature, so Kioku shrugged at Trunks and obeyed

It felt good to get some water into his system, and Kioku soon relaxed. He had Father's memories of interactions with Dad and Vegeta-san, but it didn't beat actually being with them in person. The three spent most of their time teasing and bantering with each other, with Dad's insults more light-hearted than the other two, and Kioku found himself laughing on several occasions. It was strange how he didn't feel out of place at all in a room full of grownups.

Trunks looked more than a little uncomfortable, though, and he shovelled food into his mouth without looking up from his plate more than twice. Kioku took pity on him and struck up a conversation about how strong they would be when they finished their training. Trunks brightened up at this, and soon the boys were predicting how long it would take them to surpass their respective parents . . .

******

That night (Kioku had been disturbed to discover that, without a sun, Kaiou-sama's planet did not have its own night-day cycle, and therefore no dark), Kioku begged Dad to allow him to sleep with him. Dad said he had been planning to stay up and spar with Father and Vegeta-san, but Kioku made it clear he felt slighted by the decision. Eventually, Dad relented and lay down beside Kioku on the sleeping pallet.

"If Kiku gets nightmares," Trunks warned, "You gotta' shake him real hard and call his name, okay?"

Dad frowned, his forehead creasing. "Nightmares? What kinds of nightmares?" Kioku shrugged.

"I dunno'," Trunks replied. "Kiku never remembers 'em in the morning, but he always wakes me up. He always yells like somebody's tryin' to take over him, and sometimes he talks in a real evil voice. It's kinda' freaky. So yeah, you gotta' shake him a few times. He won't wake up, but after a while he calms down."

Dad agreed, but he looked at Kioku worriedly. The Namekusejin shrugged again. "Trunks-kun's right . . . I don't remember them afterward. But I do know that if I sleep alone, it's worse."

"H'm," Dad's arm came around Kioku and pulled him close, and the small boy cuddled up to his adoptive father gratefully. Feeling Dad's warmth and his strong arm around him, Kioku didn't know how he'd ever managed to sleep without them before. "Sounds like we might have to ask Piccolo if he knows what's going on."

"Does Father have nightmares?" Kioku tried to repress a yawn, but was unsuccessful. He and Trunks had spent the rest of the 'day' chasing Bubbles around, and trying to whack a large fly-creature with a mallet. It hadn't taken very long, and after that they had sparred with each other while Kaiou-sama assessed how far along they were.

"Your Dad doesn't sleep," Dad told him, "He meditates. And if he has nightmares then, he never tells anybody. That's the way he is."

"Well, the nightmares must not be nice, 'cause I always wake up really scared," Kioku told him, snuggling even closer. "But maybe with you here, I won't get them anymore."

Dad rubbed his head affectionately. "Let's hope so, tiger. Now get to sleep - we're getting up early tomorrow."

"Okay. 'Night, Dad. 'Night, Trunks-kun."

"'Night, green freakazoid."

"'Night, half an alien."

"'Night, Mr. No Gender."

"'Night, sissy hair."

"'Night -"

"Hey guys, go to sleep!"

Chorused: "Sorry . . ."

******

~*~*~*~*~

May the good lord be with you down every road you roam

And may sunshine and happiness surround you when you're far from home

And may you grow to be proud, dignified, and true

And do unto others as you would have done to you

~*~*~*~*~

Morning. Kioku wakes to find his father bending over him, shaking his shoulder. Trunks gets the same treatment from Vegeta, though a little more roughly. He yawns, rubs his eyes, and drinks a few glasses of water while Trunks has breakfast.

Next, they join the Earth's former warriors and begin their training. Though there is no sun, the planet is brightly lit by the orange clouds, and Kioku soon gets used to its odd light. As he spars, he is filled with a strange jubilation, the endorphins flowing through him like water in a river, a crazy grin on his face.

Father stands off to the side, watching him, and Vegeta is next to him. Both watch out the corners of their eyes, as though they don't want to be caught observing, but in the glances that he can afford to toss their way, Kioku thinks he sees pride in their eyes. He smiles.

He decides he wants to grow up to be just like his fathers - both of them. Proud and strong, fighting for what was right . . . never hesitating to battle for what they know is true. Kioku vows that with this goal in mind, he will eventually be the greatest warrior ever.

The child throws himself into his training with renewed vigour, and a muttered oath of challenge to the jinzouningen.

~*~*~*~*~

Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll always stay

Forever young, forever young

~*~*~*~*~

Son ChiChi holds a watering can in shaky hands, staring at the neatly-tended graves before her. Her black hair is tied up with a black ribbon, and over her stooped shoulders she wears a black shawl. She pauses before each stone, bowing respectfully before watering the flowers growing there. Over three of the graves she stops and kneels, resting her hand on the top of the marker. Son Goku. Piccolo. Son Kioku and Briefs Trunks. Her black eyes shimmer, but no tears fall. She is long past the point of crying now.

A hand falls on her shoulder, and she looks back to see her son looking down at her, smiling sadly. He has grown up so, all the boyish softness gone from his face, lines of care and sorrow etched around his eyes, mouth, and forehead. His black hair is cut short, but is still shaggy. Scars criss-cross his arms, chest, and back, and he sports two long, jagged welts on his face - one on his forehead, one on his cheek. He looks much older than his years.

ChiChi squeezes Gohan's hand, and she leans back against him. They remain like that, unmoving, like two more statues in the graveyard. Neither speaks. They stare at the gravestones, both sadly grateful that the two little ones buried there have not aged as they themselves have.

Inside the house, in the basement, Briefs Bulma works feverishly at her computer - the only one left online in the entire Capsule Corps. compound. She frowns at the screen, moves closer and squints, then types again. She has aged - her beautiful face has worry lines on its forehead, and her mouth is pursed in a perpetual grimace. She works to escape the pain.

On Bulma's desk sit many framed photographs; one of a scar-faced man with his arm slung over Bulma's shoulders; one of a scowling man with flaming black hair . . . and several of a small toddler with tousled lavender hair and bright blue eyes, grinning wildly at the camera.

~*~*~*~*~

May good fortune be with you, may your guiding light be strong

Build a stairway to heaven with a prince or a vagabond

~*~*~*~*~

Kioku dodges a punch from Goku, whom he knows is not fighting full out. It has been over three years, and Kioku still has not surpassed either of his parents. He is frustrated, but knows it will take time - he has not the unrealistic expectations of Trunks, who believed he would be stronger than Vegeta in a matter of weeks. Kioku is of a different species than his best friend, and knows the value of patience.

Across the field, Trunks fights viciously with Vegeta. Vegeta spars with much more intensity than Goku does, but Trunks doesn't seem to mind. He trains with a single-minded determination that both Goku and Piccolo assert is present in his father. Trunks is obsessed with controlling his Super Saiyajin ability, but he is still unable to make the transformation unless his emotions and rage are at their peak.

Kioku wipes sweat from his brow, to stop the salty liquid from stinging his eyes. His fist comes away soaked with violet, but he ignores it. He has had much worse injuries than this. Piccolo taught him to regenerate his arm back at the beginning of his training, but sometimes he forgets to use it, so accustomed has he become to fighting one-handed. Only recently has he begun to use it again.

He stands, but his legs shake and his knees begin to give way. He has been fighting Goku and Piccolo since 'dawn', and it is almost time to return to bed. Kioku is thirsty and tired, but will never admit it.

Trunks flares to Super Saiyajin for a brief second, then collapses. Vegeta smirks proudly, picks up his son, and announces they may as well stop for the day. Kioku complains to save face, but allows Goku to carry him inside.

They make a strange group . . . the Prince of the Saiyajin race, the former king of demons, a third-class warrior-cum-legend, and their sons . . . but they know each other well by now. They are family.

~*~*~*~*~

And may you never love in vain

And in my heart you will always remain

Forever young

~*~*~*~*~

Gohan returns from another battle with the jinzouningen, bruised and battered, his clothes stained crimson. The machines don't even try to fight him anymore - they know they can win easily, and they beat him into unconsciousness within a matter of minutes. They keep him alive, they taunt, because it's fun to play with him.

ChiChi and Bulma carry Gohan to bed, groaning under his weight. He is in his early twenties now, and packed with muscle, but somehow the women manage to lift him onto his bed and tend to his massive wounds. He won't die yet - oh, no. Not until the jinzouningen grow tired of the game. Not until no humans are left for them to kill.

Bulma returns to her lab to work on her mysterious project, the one she will let none of the other see, but ChiChi remains by Gohan's bed, holding his hand until he returns to consciousness. She knows why Gohan continues to fight the jinzouningen when he knows he cannot win. She knows why he risks his life again and again, to save people in cities who almost always die anyway.

It is because Gohan feels he has failed Kioku and Trunks, by not making it in time. And if he saves enough children, fights enough battles, receives enough wounds . . . perhaps he will not feel the pain of guilt that surrounds his every waking moment, and haunts his dreams.

ChiChi shakes her head. The wall above Gohan's bed is plastered with photographs of Kioku and Trunks, as babies and toddlers - every photo Gohan has managed to salvage from albums and dusty boxes, he has taped up here. A constant reminder of the children he let die.

They would be thirteen and fourteen years old, were they alive now, ChiChi knows. But in her mind they are still infants, toddlers with round faces and chubby limbs, wide smiles and bright eyes. She cannot picture them as teenagers, tall and lanky, muscled . . . cannot picture their voices deeper, their innocence dimmed by years of hardship.

She prefers to think of them as infants, untainted by the horrors of the world they left behind. It is much easier that way.

~*~*~*~*~

And when you finally fly away, I'll be hoping that I served you well

For all the wisdom of a lifetime, no one can ever tell

But whatever road you choose

I'm right behind you

Win or lose

~*~*~*~*~

Years have passed since two inexperienced boys joined their family and friends in the world of the dead. In that time, the children have grown, passed through adolescence, and now stand at the brink of adulthood. Their bodies and minds have matured, their strength multiplied exponentially, their techniques improved beyond measure.

Kioku is stronger than Piccolo now, and has even surpassed the mighty Goku. He can beat them both in sparring matches, and they have the bruises to prove it. Vegeta, when pressed, grudgingly admits that Trunks has outmatched him in fight after fight. The demi-Saiyajin can flare to Super Saiyajin whenever he wishes, though he cannot retain the state in non-combat situations.

Kioku is nearly as tall as Piccolo, with the physique to match. Trunks stands a full head above Vegeta. No longer can any trace of the laughing, playful boys be found in their features, except on the rare occasion when something gives them cause to smile.

Piccolo has announced they are strong enough to defeat the jinzouningen now, and they must return to Earth. But the jubilation this once would have procured is now muted, almost forced. Over the years, the boys have come to love their fathers dearly, and it is much harder than was foreseen to think of leaving them.

They stand together on their last night in the Other World, two Namekusejin and three of Saiyajin descent. None of them speak, and they all gaze out at the orange horizon. Kioku tries hard not to think of what will happen tomorrow.

Kaiou-sama watches from a distance, silently thinking how impressed he is by the young warriors. They have shown dedication. skill. and strength unmatched by any fighter he has ever known. They have grown strong and powerful, and he knows he will be sad to see them go.

But strangely enough, the Lord of the Worlds knows that when he remembers them in future years, it will not be those tall, sculpted figures whom he recalls. It will be the memory of the sarcastic, scowling demi-Saiyajin with the quick wit and tousled hair, and the green-skinned Namekusejin boy who couldn't keep the smile from his face . . . That would never change.

~*~*~*~*~

Forever Young

Forever Young

Forever Young

~*~*~*~*~