Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Garrulous and Gritless ❯ I, 29: Raditz ( Chapter 29 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: ShiningMoon 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Action / Comedy / Drama / Psychological / Romance | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 06.06.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 251 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Action / Comedy / Drama / Psychological / Romance | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 06.06.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 251 | Status: Completed
Somehow I got pushed into being the one to gather up everybody into someplace safe and let ‘em know what’s going on. Kakarrot, who’s the one who knows all these people anyway, I guess thinks he’s too good for that sort of thing, y’know; too important, too strong, gotta keep training an’ all that like such a short time is gonna make a difference.
Granted, he’s got most of his fighting buddies all together. I dunno how I like their chances. There’s Kakarrot, who, while a terrible excuse for a Saiyan, is a halfway decent fighter—and that Namekian—Piccolo, I mean, not the pint-sized one that nearly makes me think a’ Gohan—he’s not bad either. Gohan’s not bad, but he ain’t fighting. No two ways about it. Now I don’t doubt he couldn’t take on some a’ Freeza’s goons (hell—might be he could beat me, but he’s too shy to show me what he’s really got in ‘im, so I have no idea) but I’m worried he’ll take offense at it and I know the kid can’t take what Freeza dishes out even for stupid things like that (I saw it done to Vegeta one too many times—damned blueblood has too much pride to get a sense of how it ain’t practical at all to get on the bad side of somebody who could kill you—but who am I to talk, about to fuckin’…fight Freeza…naw, I ain’t gonna think about it—maybe I’ll let Kakarrot take care of it, if he’s so sure—I don’t even know what I’m doing here—but I do—and I ain’t—well—)
There’s the others, the Yamcha guy who hates me like none other (I did steal a pretty good prize from him, so I s’pose that’s reasonable). He ain’t much normally, but I hear tell that when he used that technique Kakarrot learned in the afterlife, aside from just about killing himself he managed to triple his power in half a second. Could be useful, if he don’t toast himself into little charred bits first.
There’s one of the hairless guys, Tenshinhan, who at least don’t hiss at me like a hurt little cat every time I come near (unlike Kakarrot and Yamcha). I wonder if that extra eye’s got a purpose, or if it’s just for show. He seems strong enough—nothin’ to compare to me, naturally, especially not after that trip to Namek—and I wonder if he knows that power-multiplying technique. I’ve half a mind to ask Gohan to find out how to do it but turns out it ain’t exactly the ideal thing for little whelps like himself to learn. Fine by me as he don’t need yet another reason to hurt hisself.
There’s Kuririn, the small human who tried to tell me off first time I tried to knock some sense into Kakarrot. He’s got some sense about him, being scared shitless about this whole Freeza business (because, yes, I did go tell the others about it—wouldn’t exactly be conducive to my not dying if they’re not prepared—tho’ the degree to which they listened to me seemed to vary greatly, as Kakarrot apparently doesn’t give a damn about anybody’s well being and goes off being all excited to meet his death, again, I guess—after I killed him the once, an’ after we just about killed each other only a couple weeks ago).
There’s also some little thing—human? I ain’t about to guess—always hanging about Tenshinhan. Dunno if he aims to fight, but it’d likely be best for everybody if he just stays out of it. By the way they talk, his powers used to be somethin’ worth considerin’, but then everybody got stronger and he just got left behind. Apparently even that little hovering cat, Puar, used to be of some use to these guys. Makes you wonder just what these pathetic mudball-dwellers did before I showed up. They oughtta thank me.
Somebody who, from the sound of it the few times I was by there without getting shooed away by Kakarrot, ends up around there a lot—this chick Lunch—was already back at Bulma’s so I didn’t have to gather her up. When I started askin’ about why she kept showing up with all the fighters when she wasn’t really one herself (“sort of,” everybody said, with these sheepish looks), everybody hemmed and hawed around like they didn’t wanna admit while she was around, but lookin’ at all of them, I’m gonna bet it had something to do with the three-eyed one. His face was redder’n Gohan’s that time I corrected him about how his parents likely never fought in their bedroom. (Maybe if they did though, maybe Kakarrot’s more a Saiyan than I thought—heh—unlikely.)
But still it was up to me to find that Dende kid and bring him over to Bulma’s in case everybody’s gotta try to run away, like we’ll probably have to. (I mean, fuck—nobody’s gonna be able to beat Freeza.) When I told that Kami guy what’s going on, about Freeza and all that shit (I think he got wind of it from Gohan, but didn’t quite learn everything), he was able to figure out closer to when we’re all doomed. Meditation, and all that shit that Namekians are apparently into, and then he came back with an idea, and damn am I glad I came up to tell him.
Days. Fuckin’ days.
Mostly beyond that it was a matter of figuring out where her parents ran off to. Once I found them (why the hell didn’t she do this? “Important spaceship upgrades” my ass!)—in some sort of “resort”—they refused t’ go with me. They said, if the world’s ending they wanna have “fun.” Well, I ain’t gonna play the parent. Bulma wasn’t too happy with me for that one. Her own damn fault for sending me on her errands, I told her, which, apparently, is her excuse for the distinct lack of pre-doomsday sex. When I pointed out what she was depriving herself of, she said why don’t I just go back into space and avoid the ordeal altogether (at least, I think that’s what she was trying to suggest, punctuated by lots of gestures that she clearly picked up from me, while she called her parents to try to kick some sense into ‘em).
Which raises a good—naw—a stupid question. That’s a stupid question. Not even worth thinking about, honestly.
…
“Gohan,” I say to him the second he wanders into our old training area. I knew he’d find me there. There’s no way he’s been listening to me so far. Damned brat…
“Yeah?” he says, and tries to readjust his boots. Looks just like that Namekian’s outfit sans the stupid cape and headpiece.
I dunno how to say it other than how I have been. “You ain’t fighting. Not Freeza, not any of his guys. Got it? You stay out of it, kid.”
He shakes his head. “You taught me all this stuff! I’m gonna use it. No way I’m gonna let Piccolo die if there’s something I can do…”
Without even thinking I grab him by the shoulders. (Did he get a little taller? I guess whelps his age do that now and again.) “You fight him, you die, kid. Forget your friend. You ain’t gonna make it; it’s just a matter a’ how long it takes and how painful it is. Got it? Just—go back and stay with Bulma. Your friend will understand. Hell, he’d—”
“—agree with you,” the kid finishes, and pulls his shoulders out from underneath me with a little twist. “I know. But—I’m not gonna—” he seems all shaky, maybe with the effort of arguing, if he already fought this against the Namekian, “—I know I’m stronger than you and him think—I mean—the one time, when I still had my tail, and it hurt but now that I don’t have my tail, maybe if it happens again—”
“A lot to stake your life on, don’t you think?” is all I can say. He’s still shaking, like he wants to cry. Shit. That’s something else whelps his age do, too, when everybody he ever knew is about to die right before his eyes. Kakarrot’ll fight no matter what. Piccolo’ll die if that Kami dies too, which he surely will if Freeza finds out about him and don’t know that killing him will destroy the dragonballs. “Kid, just remember that nobody’s life is worth as much as your own. If you’re dead, that’s it. There ain’t no—no honor in sacrifice, when everybody’s just gonna get mowed down anyway.” How else can I pound it into his stupid little head?
“Then why are you still here?” he asks.
“That’s a stupid question,” I say. Well, it is. Not worth thinking about.
“No it’s not,” he says, and I wonder how it is he suddenly got so argumentative and stubborn. Or maybe I just forgot while I was on Namek. I don’t know. “You can get on Bulma’s ship. You and she and everybody else can just leave right now. Otherwise, you might die. Or they might die.”
“Or you might die,” I—oops. Those words weren’t in my head. Shit. He looks almost as confused as I feel by how that managed its way out, but he smiles a little. Better than crying, that smile, but not by much. “I mean…don’t get cocky like your father. You can’t beat this.”
“But maybe all of us can,” is what he has to say back. And that’s it. That’s my exc—that’s why I’m staying. You don’t stand a chance, a voice that’s actually my own says. But that’s about the last thing I want to think about. So I just sort of nod—there’s no way I’ll talk the kid out of it, anyway, short of finding a way to physically restrain him. While I stare off into the woods that’ve gotten awful familiar over my time here, I feel something on my hand, and look down. It’s the kid’s little hand, resting against mine—cold and clammy, but somehow stronger than I woulda thought. He gives me this determined stare, and I nod again. I suddenly feel very chilly and very warm. I hate the way it shimmies down from my neck through the ground, into the ground, but I also lo—but it also feels kind of—well, anyway, it don’t matter.
“Just…be careful, kid,” I say, and it comes out quieter than I mean. “No use getting yourself killed before your Namekian friend is even in danger. Don’t…do something stupid.”
“Don’t be silly, Uncle Raditz,” he says, and my feet feel dug into the ground at the sound of it, and a huge grin spreads over the kid’s face, “I won’t do anything stupid; I’m smarter than you.”
I can’t hold back a snort of laughter—that’s what I get for always telling him he’s got more brains than me. (In the spirit of not ruining the kid’s mood, I bite back a pretty hilarious crack about Kakarrot.) I didn’t think I had it in ‘im, always being polite—but good—he’s learning. Good…
“I oughtta make sure Bulma doesn’t want me to find anybody else,” I tell him, before I feel any more stuck to the ground, or any more stuck to his clammy little hand. He nods and turns back as he’s about to fly off to the others. “And, kid—” I start, and he turns his head to look at me, “thanks for…teaching me all that shit.”
“Thanks to you, too,” he says, “for teaching me all that…um…”
“No problem,” I say, an’ try not to laugh too hard. Then he waves, and he’s off, and so, well, I’m off, too.
…
What do you do on the last day of your life? I sure as hell tried to avoid thinking about it before, but somehow it seems like there’s more shit to take into consideration now. I try not to look at Bulma while I’m thinking about that. Of course she’s been all in a fit of why don’t I just take off with her if I think we can’t win it, why don’t I just convince everyone to run. I tell her I tried, and I tell her I wanna believe the kid is right, that somehow all of us combined can do something (I mean, hell—I’ve practically lost all grasp of where I stand—compared to Nappa, or Vegeta, or anyone else but whoever is here, and even then I wonder). And I tried once to explain to her about the voices, about every time I’m about to think maybe I oughtta just, I dunno, incapacitate the kid and drag him off with us and leave, run for our lives, they start yelling at me. I tell them they don’t know shit, and why do they care so much, but I mean, they’re fuckin’ voices in my head, so it ain’t as if they’ve been intent on listening to me so far, or they’d be gone.
She says she wants to test some things about those voices, and with the way her tone quivers is you can tell she’s hoping there’s a future. I’ve always been a fan of living, so I’d agree no matter what, but now there’s more. Something says I have to live. It’s probably those stupid voices, but I don’t intend to think about it too hard anyway. Thinking too hard ain’t my thing. Bad for you, you know. Bad for your sleep habits.
There’s this dull ache I can already feel, of Freeza and his men getting closer, and I think about running, and I think about staying, and I toss around. Out of the corner of my eye, there’s Bulma, and I notice that she’s watching me…her eyes all glassy and wet, but she don’t say a word.
She puts her hand inside mine, cold and clammy, like Gohan’s, and scoots up to me, that stupid blue hair of hers brushing against my shoulder as she kisses my cheek. Everything in my head is still.
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Granted, he’s got most of his fighting buddies all together. I dunno how I like their chances. There’s Kakarrot, who, while a terrible excuse for a Saiyan, is a halfway decent fighter—and that Namekian—Piccolo, I mean, not the pint-sized one that nearly makes me think a’ Gohan—he’s not bad either. Gohan’s not bad, but he ain’t fighting. No two ways about it. Now I don’t doubt he couldn’t take on some a’ Freeza’s goons (hell—might be he could beat me, but he’s too shy to show me what he’s really got in ‘im, so I have no idea) but I’m worried he’ll take offense at it and I know the kid can’t take what Freeza dishes out even for stupid things like that (I saw it done to Vegeta one too many times—damned blueblood has too much pride to get a sense of how it ain’t practical at all to get on the bad side of somebody who could kill you—but who am I to talk, about to fuckin’…fight Freeza…naw, I ain’t gonna think about it—maybe I’ll let Kakarrot take care of it, if he’s so sure—I don’t even know what I’m doing here—but I do—and I ain’t—well—)
There’s the others, the Yamcha guy who hates me like none other (I did steal a pretty good prize from him, so I s’pose that’s reasonable). He ain’t much normally, but I hear tell that when he used that technique Kakarrot learned in the afterlife, aside from just about killing himself he managed to triple his power in half a second. Could be useful, if he don’t toast himself into little charred bits first.
There’s one of the hairless guys, Tenshinhan, who at least don’t hiss at me like a hurt little cat every time I come near (unlike Kakarrot and Yamcha). I wonder if that extra eye’s got a purpose, or if it’s just for show. He seems strong enough—nothin’ to compare to me, naturally, especially not after that trip to Namek—and I wonder if he knows that power-multiplying technique. I’ve half a mind to ask Gohan to find out how to do it but turns out it ain’t exactly the ideal thing for little whelps like himself to learn. Fine by me as he don’t need yet another reason to hurt hisself.
There’s Kuririn, the small human who tried to tell me off first time I tried to knock some sense into Kakarrot. He’s got some sense about him, being scared shitless about this whole Freeza business (because, yes, I did go tell the others about it—wouldn’t exactly be conducive to my not dying if they’re not prepared—tho’ the degree to which they listened to me seemed to vary greatly, as Kakarrot apparently doesn’t give a damn about anybody’s well being and goes off being all excited to meet his death, again, I guess—after I killed him the once, an’ after we just about killed each other only a couple weeks ago).
There’s also some little thing—human? I ain’t about to guess—always hanging about Tenshinhan. Dunno if he aims to fight, but it’d likely be best for everybody if he just stays out of it. By the way they talk, his powers used to be somethin’ worth considerin’, but then everybody got stronger and he just got left behind. Apparently even that little hovering cat, Puar, used to be of some use to these guys. Makes you wonder just what these pathetic mudball-dwellers did before I showed up. They oughtta thank me.
Somebody who, from the sound of it the few times I was by there without getting shooed away by Kakarrot, ends up around there a lot—this chick Lunch—was already back at Bulma’s so I didn’t have to gather her up. When I started askin’ about why she kept showing up with all the fighters when she wasn’t really one herself (“sort of,” everybody said, with these sheepish looks), everybody hemmed and hawed around like they didn’t wanna admit while she was around, but lookin’ at all of them, I’m gonna bet it had something to do with the three-eyed one. His face was redder’n Gohan’s that time I corrected him about how his parents likely never fought in their bedroom. (Maybe if they did though, maybe Kakarrot’s more a Saiyan than I thought—heh—unlikely.)
But still it was up to me to find that Dende kid and bring him over to Bulma’s in case everybody’s gotta try to run away, like we’ll probably have to. (I mean, fuck—nobody’s gonna be able to beat Freeza.) When I told that Kami guy what’s going on, about Freeza and all that shit (I think he got wind of it from Gohan, but didn’t quite learn everything), he was able to figure out closer to when we’re all doomed. Meditation, and all that shit that Namekians are apparently into, and then he came back with an idea, and damn am I glad I came up to tell him.
Days. Fuckin’ days.
Mostly beyond that it was a matter of figuring out where her parents ran off to. Once I found them (why the hell didn’t she do this? “Important spaceship upgrades” my ass!)—in some sort of “resort”—they refused t’ go with me. They said, if the world’s ending they wanna have “fun.” Well, I ain’t gonna play the parent. Bulma wasn’t too happy with me for that one. Her own damn fault for sending me on her errands, I told her, which, apparently, is her excuse for the distinct lack of pre-doomsday sex. When I pointed out what she was depriving herself of, she said why don’t I just go back into space and avoid the ordeal altogether (at least, I think that’s what she was trying to suggest, punctuated by lots of gestures that she clearly picked up from me, while she called her parents to try to kick some sense into ‘em).
Which raises a good—naw—a stupid question. That’s a stupid question. Not even worth thinking about, honestly.
…
“Gohan,” I say to him the second he wanders into our old training area. I knew he’d find me there. There’s no way he’s been listening to me so far. Damned brat…
“Yeah?” he says, and tries to readjust his boots. Looks just like that Namekian’s outfit sans the stupid cape and headpiece.
I dunno how to say it other than how I have been. “You ain’t fighting. Not Freeza, not any of his guys. Got it? You stay out of it, kid.”
He shakes his head. “You taught me all this stuff! I’m gonna use it. No way I’m gonna let Piccolo die if there’s something I can do…”
Without even thinking I grab him by the shoulders. (Did he get a little taller? I guess whelps his age do that now and again.) “You fight him, you die, kid. Forget your friend. You ain’t gonna make it; it’s just a matter a’ how long it takes and how painful it is. Got it? Just—go back and stay with Bulma. Your friend will understand. Hell, he’d—”
“—agree with you,” the kid finishes, and pulls his shoulders out from underneath me with a little twist. “I know. But—I’m not gonna—” he seems all shaky, maybe with the effort of arguing, if he already fought this against the Namekian, “—I know I’m stronger than you and him think—I mean—the one time, when I still had my tail, and it hurt but now that I don’t have my tail, maybe if it happens again—”
“A lot to stake your life on, don’t you think?” is all I can say. He’s still shaking, like he wants to cry. Shit. That’s something else whelps his age do, too, when everybody he ever knew is about to die right before his eyes. Kakarrot’ll fight no matter what. Piccolo’ll die if that Kami dies too, which he surely will if Freeza finds out about him and don’t know that killing him will destroy the dragonballs. “Kid, just remember that nobody’s life is worth as much as your own. If you’re dead, that’s it. There ain’t no—no honor in sacrifice, when everybody’s just gonna get mowed down anyway.” How else can I pound it into his stupid little head?
“Then why are you still here?” he asks.
“That’s a stupid question,” I say. Well, it is. Not worth thinking about.
“No it’s not,” he says, and I wonder how it is he suddenly got so argumentative and stubborn. Or maybe I just forgot while I was on Namek. I don’t know. “You can get on Bulma’s ship. You and she and everybody else can just leave right now. Otherwise, you might die. Or they might die.”
“Or you might die,” I—oops. Those words weren’t in my head. Shit. He looks almost as confused as I feel by how that managed its way out, but he smiles a little. Better than crying, that smile, but not by much. “I mean…don’t get cocky like your father. You can’t beat this.”
“But maybe all of us can,” is what he has to say back. And that’s it. That’s my exc—that’s why I’m staying. You don’t stand a chance, a voice that’s actually my own says. But that’s about the last thing I want to think about. So I just sort of nod—there’s no way I’ll talk the kid out of it, anyway, short of finding a way to physically restrain him. While I stare off into the woods that’ve gotten awful familiar over my time here, I feel something on my hand, and look down. It’s the kid’s little hand, resting against mine—cold and clammy, but somehow stronger than I woulda thought. He gives me this determined stare, and I nod again. I suddenly feel very chilly and very warm. I hate the way it shimmies down from my neck through the ground, into the ground, but I also lo—but it also feels kind of—well, anyway, it don’t matter.
“Just…be careful, kid,” I say, and it comes out quieter than I mean. “No use getting yourself killed before your Namekian friend is even in danger. Don’t…do something stupid.”
“Don’t be silly, Uncle Raditz,” he says, and my feet feel dug into the ground at the sound of it, and a huge grin spreads over the kid’s face, “I won’t do anything stupid; I’m smarter than you.”
I can’t hold back a snort of laughter—that’s what I get for always telling him he’s got more brains than me. (In the spirit of not ruining the kid’s mood, I bite back a pretty hilarious crack about Kakarrot.) I didn’t think I had it in ‘im, always being polite—but good—he’s learning. Good…
“I oughtta make sure Bulma doesn’t want me to find anybody else,” I tell him, before I feel any more stuck to the ground, or any more stuck to his clammy little hand. He nods and turns back as he’s about to fly off to the others. “And, kid—” I start, and he turns his head to look at me, “thanks for…teaching me all that shit.”
“Thanks to you, too,” he says, “for teaching me all that…um…”
“No problem,” I say, an’ try not to laugh too hard. Then he waves, and he’s off, and so, well, I’m off, too.
…
What do you do on the last day of your life? I sure as hell tried to avoid thinking about it before, but somehow it seems like there’s more shit to take into consideration now. I try not to look at Bulma while I’m thinking about that. Of course she’s been all in a fit of why don’t I just take off with her if I think we can’t win it, why don’t I just convince everyone to run. I tell her I tried, and I tell her I wanna believe the kid is right, that somehow all of us combined can do something (I mean, hell—I’ve practically lost all grasp of where I stand—compared to Nappa, or Vegeta, or anyone else but whoever is here, and even then I wonder). And I tried once to explain to her about the voices, about every time I’m about to think maybe I oughtta just, I dunno, incapacitate the kid and drag him off with us and leave, run for our lives, they start yelling at me. I tell them they don’t know shit, and why do they care so much, but I mean, they’re fuckin’ voices in my head, so it ain’t as if they’ve been intent on listening to me so far, or they’d be gone.
She says she wants to test some things about those voices, and with the way her tone quivers is you can tell she’s hoping there’s a future. I’ve always been a fan of living, so I’d agree no matter what, but now there’s more. Something says I have to live. It’s probably those stupid voices, but I don’t intend to think about it too hard anyway. Thinking too hard ain’t my thing. Bad for you, you know. Bad for your sleep habits.
There’s this dull ache I can already feel, of Freeza and his men getting closer, and I think about running, and I think about staying, and I toss around. Out of the corner of my eye, there’s Bulma, and I notice that she’s watching me…her eyes all glassy and wet, but she don’t say a word.
She puts her hand inside mine, cold and clammy, like Gohan’s, and scoots up to me, that stupid blue hair of hers brushing against my shoulder as she kisses my cheek. Everything in my head is still.
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