Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dragonball Victory : Legends Never Die ❯ XXIV ( Chapter 24 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Faia Saiyajin 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Occult / Martial Arts / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 05.21.2003 | Updated On: 05.21.2003 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 140 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Occult / Martial Arts / Comedy / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 05.21.2003 | Updated On: 05.21.2003 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 140 | Status: Completed
XXIV
Trunks and Yarn had finished surveying their part of the towering home of the former Saichiourou, and found nothing. The holding room for what must have been a Dragonball was also undamaged. But there was no sign of Muuri or a Dragonball on the top two floors.
"This sucks." Trunks grumbled, kicking a broken bit of rock. It bounced along the cracked floor of the hallway, stopping by Yarn's left foot. "Muuri's gotta be dead." A pained expression flickered on his Nameckjin companion's face. It was then that Trunks remembered that the brothers and Muuri were blood relation. "Aaah damn. I apologize, Yarn. I didn't mean anything by it... I'm just saying..."
"I understand, young one. No offense was taken." Yarn flexed his fingers, and sighed. "No sense in staying here. Perhaps Goten and my brothers have-"
'Come, brother!' Needle's mental call exploded in both their heads. Both broke into a run, down the hall. It curved away from them in a downward spiral, the left-hand wall staggered with small round windows. The slow incline and wide arc made for a longer distance than either wished to go. The minutes seemed to tick off into hours, but their quick pace made it only seconds. They hesitated at the entrances to the other floors, but Needle's urging kept them running.
Trunks grumbled, as they passed the main floor. The hallway continued, down, underground. "Couldn't he have just said the basement?" He scowled irritably. Yarn, despite his stout body, was keeping up with him, and Trunks was practically flying. The Nameckjin's wide mouth was tight below his hooked nose, the worry plain on his face. The hall ended abruptly, in a smooth grey wall. The door to the right was no more, a jagged hole where the double doors had once been. The faint traces of ki were thick on the opening, Trunks knowing that someone had just recently blown them off.
The basement was huge, spanning the entire length and width of the above floors. Used for storage of some sort, freshly disturbed layers of dust hanging in the air. Tables and chairs were overturned, books torn and tossed about. Goten was standing to one side, looking about nervously. He kept licking his lips, and running his hands through his hair. The lip-licking could have been attributed to the dry, stale smell of the place, but Trunks knew Goten as well as he did himself. Son Goten was uneasy, almost afraid.
"Goten-kun!" Trunks tried to sound as carefree as his own nervousness would allow. Goten looked up abruptly, as Trunks and Yarn crossed the room. "What's going on?"
He gestured, his fingers shaking. "Back there. Kami-sama..." Yarn stiffened. "I've seen some..." He shuddered, running his hands through his hair again.
"What happened?" Trunks' eyes widened. Goten swallowed, hard.
"You'll have to see for yourself. I couldn't describe it if I tried..."
Both Trunks and Yarn nearly knocked one another over, for trying to reach the corner of the room Goten was pointing to. A bookcase had been toppled, the books of Nameckjin history and other things laying open, pages ripped and wrinkled. Yarn sighed. Centuries of his people's history, gone in seconds. But... behind the bookcase...
A small square opening, a head shorter than he was, and wide enough so that he and half of himself could fit through, was carved into the far right wall. He barely had to duck to get in, but Trunks had to bend nearly double. The sounds of breathing, and murmured prayers filtered through the darkness.
Yarn's eyes went wide. There, behind the bent forms of Needle and Spindle, was Muuri. There was a small lamp at Needle's heel, and it illuminated the tight space dimly. It was a room, barely three paces wide and four deep, empty save for a small table, and that was overturned and broken. There was an odd smell in the room, that differed greatly from the staleness of the basement. The walls were the same nondescript grey as the rest of the tower, except these were splashed with something that glowed, almost incandescent, in the candlelight.
Trunks was trying to inch closer, feeling out of place, but wanting to inspect the little gathering. Needle looked over his shoulder. He sighed heavily when he saw Trunks, and then his eyes fell on Yarn. "Come closer, brother. It is time. Bring Goten in."
Goten came, hesitantly, crowding into the small space, he and Trunks stooping to fit. Yarn and Spindle, almost on cue, parted. Yarn's hand flew to his mouth, and he could hear the sound of Goten trying not to retch. Trunks' whole face went bone-white, despite the twitching, stoic mask he wore. Muuri lay collapsed against the wall, moved gently into a more comfortable position by his nephews. His eyes were closed, his breathing heavy. All in all, it looked like he was asleep, if it weren't for the gaping crater in his stomach. Innards were strewn about the opening, and Yarn then knew that the substance on the walls was Muuri's blood.
"Elder!" Yarn found himself crying out, falling to his knees before the gravely injured Nameckjin. Muuri's eyes opened, slowly.
"Yarn... my child."
"What happened? Who did this to you?!"
"...the ...imposters. They are seeking the Dragonballs." Muuri strove to breathe. "They have the faces of those who saved our people from Furieza, but not the hearts. The...." He went silent, closing his eyes, gathering his fading strength.
"If they are looking for the Dragonballs, Elder, why did they hurt you?" Yarn's voice was pleading. Needle and Spindle kept their eyes on the floor. They'd already heard the horrific tale, in detail. Trunks and the near-sick Goten stood to the back, listening, confirming what Gokou had told them mentally.
"I did not want them to have the sacred Ball enshrined here. So I... swallowed it, to keep it safe." The Nameckjin ability to extend their arms to great lengths was not limited to limbs. "But they knew... they knew... and they ripped it out of me."
"By the Creator..." Yarn felt his skin contract into gooseflesh. "They hurt you and took the Dragonball?" His fists clenched. "We will make them pay!"
"But... Yarn, my child, if I die, the Balls are rendered useless."
"You cannot, Elder! If you die, we will have no leader!" He felt the tears well up. "And if we have no leader..."
"I already told him that, brother." Needle said softly. "He has consented to merge with one of us, but will not grant us the powers of the Saichiourou until the foreign scourge is eliminated. That way, the Dragonballs can only be used to wish back those that were killed."
"What do they want them for? What is their wish? Did they tell you?" Trunks said, hastily adding "Elder Muuri."
"No... but I can assure you, their wish would not benefit our people or the rest of the Galaxy."
Yarn swallowed hard. The thought that his uncle would not live in the flesh was disconcerting, but the fact that he would survive as a part of one of them was a small comfort. "You are slipping from this plane, Elder." He put a meaty hand on Muuri's arm. "Fuse with me. My strength will benefit you."
"...no."
The eldest brother nearly jumped from the shock. "But, why?"
"Your physical strength, and Needle's mental strength would only be hurt by my presence. It will be needed, to aid Son Gokou and his allies. Therefore, I will fuse with Spindle."
Spindle, who wasn't much of a talker, bowed, his antennae nearly brushing the ground. "I am honored that you chose me, Elder Muuri, but..." He ignored the tears in his eyes. Beside Yarn's burly strength, and Needle's quiet gentleness, he had always felt somewhat incompetent. Why had Elder Muuri chosen him?
"...because you are wise, brother." Came Needle's reassurance. "I am too cautious. Yarn is too rash. You are a blend of the two of us, Spindle, and you will make a fine Saichiourou, when the time comes. Muuri's children are dead, and time is running short."
"Even if you did not accept, Spindle, you would have no choice. I am dying, and I have not chosen an heir to the title of the Ultimate Nameckjin. If I should die without one, the Dragonballs will be useless... forever."
The middle brother swallowed hard. "I would accept, whether or not it was an emergency."
Trunks and Goten backed up, trying to make room for Yarn and Needle, who moved away so that their brother and their uncle could fuse. Spindle placed both hands on Muuri's shoulders. The Elder opened his eyes one last time, to look at Yarn, Needle, Goten and Trunks.
"Farewell, Yarn, Needle. Though I may not reside in the flesh, know that my spirit shall endure. I will be with you all, like the Saichiourou before me." He sighed sadly, remembering the immense, old Saichiourou who had made him the Ultimate Nameckjin, while they were all still homeless, living on Chikyuu-sei.
"Farewell, Uncle Muuri." Needle managed, with great difficulty. Yarn nodded solemnly, tears in his eyes. Even Goten and Trunks were moved by the dying Nameckjin's parting words.
The process began, filling the room with brilliant white light. To their eyes, it seemed as if Muuri was fading, dissolving into nothingness. When Trunks tracked their ki, however, it was a different story. Muuri's ki was surging, pouring into Spindle, as if drawn by a giant vacuum, magnetically drawn to Spindle's ki. When it was finished, Spindle's ki flooded the room, intense and blinding, nearly concealing the way Muuri's body melted away into emptiness. Trunks opened his squinted eyes, to find Spindle on his hands and knees, overwhelmed by the increase in his body's energy, and the loud roar of Muuri's thoughts and feelings and power, as it settled into the back of his mind.
"Sweet mother of ...." Goten breathed. The Nameckjin's ki had nearly tripled. It was greatly above average for a Nameckjin, rivaling even Yamucha's, and the Desert Bandit was the weakest of Chikyuu-sei's warriors. "That's a handy trick."
"It is used sparingly, Goten." Needle explained. "When we fuse, our souls are lost forever. It is a partial death. Our bodies die, and our minds go to the new fusion, but our souls are unable to return the next world." He smiled, bitterly. "So, you see, it is both a 'handy trick', and an eternal damnation."
Spindle straightened suddenly. "We must go. We must find the Chikyuujin. The Dragonballs will be turning to stone, and the imposters will be angry." His voice was always measured, as if he was testing every word, but now, it had a superior weight to it, and Trunks realized, with a start, that he was speaking like Muuri.
"Very well. ...Needle...?"
"I am already one step ahead of you, Trunks." Closing his eyes, Needle felt out with his mind, calling out to Gokou. Seconds later, he opened his eyes again. "They are to the east. All in one group, save for one. The wife of the one called Kuririn."
"Then we must hurry." Filing out of the safe-room one by one, the group of Chikyuujin and Nameckjin sped up the corridor, and out into the daylight. Yarn grunted.
"The second sun is halfway in the sky. We have lost too much time."
"We'll kick it up to full, then." Goten grinned, very much relieved to be out of the blood-soaked room. White ki flames licked at his feet, before covering him. Trunks followed suit, along with the three brothers. Silently, they took to the air, to the east.
Trunks and Yarn had finished surveying their part of the towering home of the former Saichiourou, and found nothing. The holding room for what must have been a Dragonball was also undamaged. But there was no sign of Muuri or a Dragonball on the top two floors.
"This sucks." Trunks grumbled, kicking a broken bit of rock. It bounced along the cracked floor of the hallway, stopping by Yarn's left foot. "Muuri's gotta be dead." A pained expression flickered on his Nameckjin companion's face. It was then that Trunks remembered that the brothers and Muuri were blood relation. "Aaah damn. I apologize, Yarn. I didn't mean anything by it... I'm just saying..."
"I understand, young one. No offense was taken." Yarn flexed his fingers, and sighed. "No sense in staying here. Perhaps Goten and my brothers have-"
'Come, brother!' Needle's mental call exploded in both their heads. Both broke into a run, down the hall. It curved away from them in a downward spiral, the left-hand wall staggered with small round windows. The slow incline and wide arc made for a longer distance than either wished to go. The minutes seemed to tick off into hours, but their quick pace made it only seconds. They hesitated at the entrances to the other floors, but Needle's urging kept them running.
Trunks grumbled, as they passed the main floor. The hallway continued, down, underground. "Couldn't he have just said the basement?" He scowled irritably. Yarn, despite his stout body, was keeping up with him, and Trunks was practically flying. The Nameckjin's wide mouth was tight below his hooked nose, the worry plain on his face. The hall ended abruptly, in a smooth grey wall. The door to the right was no more, a jagged hole where the double doors had once been. The faint traces of ki were thick on the opening, Trunks knowing that someone had just recently blown them off.
The basement was huge, spanning the entire length and width of the above floors. Used for storage of some sort, freshly disturbed layers of dust hanging in the air. Tables and chairs were overturned, books torn and tossed about. Goten was standing to one side, looking about nervously. He kept licking his lips, and running his hands through his hair. The lip-licking could have been attributed to the dry, stale smell of the place, but Trunks knew Goten as well as he did himself. Son Goten was uneasy, almost afraid.
"Goten-kun!" Trunks tried to sound as carefree as his own nervousness would allow. Goten looked up abruptly, as Trunks and Yarn crossed the room. "What's going on?"
He gestured, his fingers shaking. "Back there. Kami-sama..." Yarn stiffened. "I've seen some..." He shuddered, running his hands through his hair again.
"What happened?" Trunks' eyes widened. Goten swallowed, hard.
"You'll have to see for yourself. I couldn't describe it if I tried..."
Both Trunks and Yarn nearly knocked one another over, for trying to reach the corner of the room Goten was pointing to. A bookcase had been toppled, the books of Nameckjin history and other things laying open, pages ripped and wrinkled. Yarn sighed. Centuries of his people's history, gone in seconds. But... behind the bookcase...
A small square opening, a head shorter than he was, and wide enough so that he and half of himself could fit through, was carved into the far right wall. He barely had to duck to get in, but Trunks had to bend nearly double. The sounds of breathing, and murmured prayers filtered through the darkness.
Yarn's eyes went wide. There, behind the bent forms of Needle and Spindle, was Muuri. There was a small lamp at Needle's heel, and it illuminated the tight space dimly. It was a room, barely three paces wide and four deep, empty save for a small table, and that was overturned and broken. There was an odd smell in the room, that differed greatly from the staleness of the basement. The walls were the same nondescript grey as the rest of the tower, except these were splashed with something that glowed, almost incandescent, in the candlelight.
Trunks was trying to inch closer, feeling out of place, but wanting to inspect the little gathering. Needle looked over his shoulder. He sighed heavily when he saw Trunks, and then his eyes fell on Yarn. "Come closer, brother. It is time. Bring Goten in."
Goten came, hesitantly, crowding into the small space, he and Trunks stooping to fit. Yarn and Spindle, almost on cue, parted. Yarn's hand flew to his mouth, and he could hear the sound of Goten trying not to retch. Trunks' whole face went bone-white, despite the twitching, stoic mask he wore. Muuri lay collapsed against the wall, moved gently into a more comfortable position by his nephews. His eyes were closed, his breathing heavy. All in all, it looked like he was asleep, if it weren't for the gaping crater in his stomach. Innards were strewn about the opening, and Yarn then knew that the substance on the walls was Muuri's blood.
"Elder!" Yarn found himself crying out, falling to his knees before the gravely injured Nameckjin. Muuri's eyes opened, slowly.
"Yarn... my child."
"What happened? Who did this to you?!"
"...the ...imposters. They are seeking the Dragonballs." Muuri strove to breathe. "They have the faces of those who saved our people from Furieza, but not the hearts. The...." He went silent, closing his eyes, gathering his fading strength.
"If they are looking for the Dragonballs, Elder, why did they hurt you?" Yarn's voice was pleading. Needle and Spindle kept their eyes on the floor. They'd already heard the horrific tale, in detail. Trunks and the near-sick Goten stood to the back, listening, confirming what Gokou had told them mentally.
"I did not want them to have the sacred Ball enshrined here. So I... swallowed it, to keep it safe." The Nameckjin ability to extend their arms to great lengths was not limited to limbs. "But they knew... they knew... and they ripped it out of me."
"By the Creator..." Yarn felt his skin contract into gooseflesh. "They hurt you and took the Dragonball?" His fists clenched. "We will make them pay!"
"But... Yarn, my child, if I die, the Balls are rendered useless."
"You cannot, Elder! If you die, we will have no leader!" He felt the tears well up. "And if we have no leader..."
"I already told him that, brother." Needle said softly. "He has consented to merge with one of us, but will not grant us the powers of the Saichiourou until the foreign scourge is eliminated. That way, the Dragonballs can only be used to wish back those that were killed."
"What do they want them for? What is their wish? Did they tell you?" Trunks said, hastily adding "Elder Muuri."
"No... but I can assure you, their wish would not benefit our people or the rest of the Galaxy."
Yarn swallowed hard. The thought that his uncle would not live in the flesh was disconcerting, but the fact that he would survive as a part of one of them was a small comfort. "You are slipping from this plane, Elder." He put a meaty hand on Muuri's arm. "Fuse with me. My strength will benefit you."
"...no."
The eldest brother nearly jumped from the shock. "But, why?"
"Your physical strength, and Needle's mental strength would only be hurt by my presence. It will be needed, to aid Son Gokou and his allies. Therefore, I will fuse with Spindle."
Spindle, who wasn't much of a talker, bowed, his antennae nearly brushing the ground. "I am honored that you chose me, Elder Muuri, but..." He ignored the tears in his eyes. Beside Yarn's burly strength, and Needle's quiet gentleness, he had always felt somewhat incompetent. Why had Elder Muuri chosen him?
"...because you are wise, brother." Came Needle's reassurance. "I am too cautious. Yarn is too rash. You are a blend of the two of us, Spindle, and you will make a fine Saichiourou, when the time comes. Muuri's children are dead, and time is running short."
"Even if you did not accept, Spindle, you would have no choice. I am dying, and I have not chosen an heir to the title of the Ultimate Nameckjin. If I should die without one, the Dragonballs will be useless... forever."
The middle brother swallowed hard. "I would accept, whether or not it was an emergency."
Trunks and Goten backed up, trying to make room for Yarn and Needle, who moved away so that their brother and their uncle could fuse. Spindle placed both hands on Muuri's shoulders. The Elder opened his eyes one last time, to look at Yarn, Needle, Goten and Trunks.
"Farewell, Yarn, Needle. Though I may not reside in the flesh, know that my spirit shall endure. I will be with you all, like the Saichiourou before me." He sighed sadly, remembering the immense, old Saichiourou who had made him the Ultimate Nameckjin, while they were all still homeless, living on Chikyuu-sei.
"Farewell, Uncle Muuri." Needle managed, with great difficulty. Yarn nodded solemnly, tears in his eyes. Even Goten and Trunks were moved by the dying Nameckjin's parting words.
The process began, filling the room with brilliant white light. To their eyes, it seemed as if Muuri was fading, dissolving into nothingness. When Trunks tracked their ki, however, it was a different story. Muuri's ki was surging, pouring into Spindle, as if drawn by a giant vacuum, magnetically drawn to Spindle's ki. When it was finished, Spindle's ki flooded the room, intense and blinding, nearly concealing the way Muuri's body melted away into emptiness. Trunks opened his squinted eyes, to find Spindle on his hands and knees, overwhelmed by the increase in his body's energy, and the loud roar of Muuri's thoughts and feelings and power, as it settled into the back of his mind.
"Sweet mother of ...." Goten breathed. The Nameckjin's ki had nearly tripled. It was greatly above average for a Nameckjin, rivaling even Yamucha's, and the Desert Bandit was the weakest of Chikyuu-sei's warriors. "That's a handy trick."
"It is used sparingly, Goten." Needle explained. "When we fuse, our souls are lost forever. It is a partial death. Our bodies die, and our minds go to the new fusion, but our souls are unable to return the next world." He smiled, bitterly. "So, you see, it is both a 'handy trick', and an eternal damnation."
Spindle straightened suddenly. "We must go. We must find the Chikyuujin. The Dragonballs will be turning to stone, and the imposters will be angry." His voice was always measured, as if he was testing every word, but now, it had a superior weight to it, and Trunks realized, with a start, that he was speaking like Muuri.
"Very well. ...Needle...?"
"I am already one step ahead of you, Trunks." Closing his eyes, Needle felt out with his mind, calling out to Gokou. Seconds later, he opened his eyes again. "They are to the east. All in one group, save for one. The wife of the one called Kuririn."
"Then we must hurry." Filing out of the safe-room one by one, the group of Chikyuujin and Nameckjin sped up the corridor, and out into the daylight. Yarn grunted.
"The second sun is halfway in the sky. We have lost too much time."
"We'll kick it up to full, then." Goten grinned, very much relieved to be out of the blood-soaked room. White ki flames licked at his feet, before covering him. Trunks followed suit, along with the three brothers. Silently, they took to the air, to the east.