Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Mysterious Miss Mao ❯ One Shattered Soul ( Prologue )

A/N: This is the prologue for a future story-I wrote it to develop the plot bunny. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.

The Mysterious Miss Mao

By Nadia Rose

Prologue:

Life was a spiral. It was more than an ordinary spiral, however; it was a spiral of pain. Once she reached the center where pain and despair saturated even the shadows of her thoughts, life would straighten itself out again and she could begin to recover, she would suddenly find herself in the middle of the figure again, immersed once more in the pain and despair that haunted her life.

This time, however, the reach of the darkness that had claimed her soul knew no bounds. In just a few short months, she had lost everything she had ever truly loved. They had been ripped from her life as viciously as lightning stabbing the night sky, leaving the thunder to crash around in her soul.

She knew her fellow survivors were worried about her; she didn't have to look at their faces to feel their pity and anxiety. She didn't want it. They couldn't possibly understand what she was going through now, the pain of having one's entire life run through the gauntlet in such a short time. She had survived, but only just.

Standing out in the clearing at dusk, she decided that twilight had set upon her heart. She would never be the same again; she could never-would never love again with the same intensity that she had loved them. They had both left her alone in this dimension with the ease of a butterfly departing its cocoon. She had been useless to both of them; a mere liability that needed to be treated with special care. It was brutally refreshing to know that one was about as valuable as the dirt in the ground.

But if dirt was base, it was also useful. It was rich with the nutrients that helped to feed life; it could support new life after great catastrophes. Despite everything that happened to it, dirt couldn't die-it was left to soldier on and support life once more.

She couldn't rebuild this; something beyond the great power of Shenlong had forbidden it. They had even suggested trying with Porunga, but his powers were hardly greater; if Shenlong was restricted from granted her wish, then Porunga wouldn't be able to grant it either.

For the first time in years, she had no hope, no faith that in the far off future, her life would be complete once more. These last events had wrung everything out of her, the storm that she called her feelings ebbed away with those long days at his bedside. She had been wrung dry then; there was nothing left to feel. Nothing but pain, and now she welcomed the sharp stabs in her heart-at least she knew she could feel something. There was no more grief, for she had nothing truly left to grieve. They were in a better place now-there was nothing for her to grieve for, for in the afterlife, they could both fight all day long without fear of dying.

Not that either of them had been afraid of it in the first place.

It was so very tempting to join them, to just take the pistol from the shelf in her bedroom tonight and end it all, but the faces around her prevented that; especially the bulk of the man standing behind her. She couldn't leave her father alone; not now. He couldn't lose all of his family at once-she couldn't ask him to let her go too.

Fingers laced through hers, squeezing her hand in support. She didn't turn to see the blue-haired woman who hadn't left her side since it happened-Bulma had Trunks on one hip, and she didn't want to be reminded of what she'd lost. Bulma still had her son, and Chichi's was gone. Gone for who-knew-how long, and her husband determined to stay until he was ready to come back, if he ever was.

She was alone again; but this time she could be left alone forever. Even standing in the midst of her friends, she was alone. None of them had ever gone through this; some had come close, but none could really relate to her and what she was going through. She stood solemnly in the center of them all as the android twins, 17 and his sister 18, carefully lowered the massive remembrance stone into the wet grass a few feet away from its counterpart, which was only two months old.

That done, the men and women stood in silence, ignoring the bitterly cold rain that beat against their dark clothes. There was nothing to be said; nothing that could be said. They all knew what happened, and each, in their own way, blamed themselves-they should have noticed, could have done something more, and this might not have happened. They stood and watched the stones before them, each remembering the two lives that had been lost.

The Briefs were the first to leave. Little Trunks, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, snuffled and began to whine, pulling on his mother's hair. He was wet, tired, and threatening to become little cranky. Bulma handed him to his older counterpart and wrapped strong arms around her, tears streaking down her beautiful face. "Call me if you need anything at all," she whispered in her ear, then took Trunks and her parents off to the capsule van on the next hill to warm off.

Mirai Trunks, who looked as upset as she had felt a few days ago simply kneeled next to her, begging her forgiveness. "I'm sorry Chi-chi-san," he told her very solemnly. "They were good people-I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back."

She managed to nod and lift her hand to ruffle the shorter purple hair. He needed that much comfort-he had tried so hard to fix things; fix things for himself as well as them, and had taken his failure hard. Reaching into a pocket of her black gown, she pulled out an envelope and offered it to him. He took it and looked curiously at her, then started to open it. She shook her head and forced her lips to form words. "Not now," her voice sounded like she was 30 years older. "Later. When you get home." He nodded, bowed to the stones, to her, and then took to the skies.

Vegeta, meanwhile, turned from where he had stood next to the stones, carving something unintelligible into both stones. He looked at her from his position and grunted. "They died like the best of Saiyans. You should be proud."

And then he was gone.

Slowly, one by one, the others offered their condolences and left, until finally she was the last one remaining. She stood there, skirts billowing in the wind and cold rain running down her face, determined to stay standing despite the faintness in her knees. They were both gone now-and it hurt, hurt more than the stabbing pains in her heart. There was a great emptiness in her soul that nothing could fill.

She would never be the same person again-could never be as happy as she used to be, while they were still alive.

The Princess stood like a stone until the sun began to set over the mountains, and her father came up the hill again to get her, her suitcases in hand. She had decided that morning that she would never come back here, not until they came back. She couldn't live with the constant memories of what had happened-both the good and the bad were too much.

She needed a change of scenery, a change of lifestyle-a change of something-to keep her sanity. She needed to find out who she was without them; that she could still be an individual.

She placed a fresh red rose on the older stone, tucking the old, wilted one behind one ear, and another on the other grave, the first and last flower she would ever place there.

Her father rested one of his hands on her back then, blocking the rain with his own body. After a moment of staring at them in silence, she allowed him to lead her away.

The woman known as Son Chichi left Mt. Paotzu that day; left her house, her gardens, her laundry-her very life, just as it was. She didn't pack, she didn't prepare; she didn't do anything. For years the villagers and her friends wondered what happened to her, but no-one knew for sure exactly what had happened on the mountain to make her leave. Only the two stones in the peaceful meadow hinted at what great tragedy might have occurred there, and nobody could understand what the words meant-except for the names: Son Goku and Son Gohan.

Some people thought she might have murdered them, others that it was some freak accident off in the woods, but they all knew two things. The boys were dead, and the lady of the mountain was gone-she literally vanished off the face of the earth for almost seven years. And when she came back, she'd changed beyond all recognition.