To be a Warrior

by Sassy Swift

Marron had thought that being a fighter was a waste of time, energy, and life. But when her father dies, she feels guilty since she thought she could have saved him if she was a warrior. Ever since, she has been wanting to be a warrior. Maybe a lavender-haired good friend of hers can help her with her longing to fight. (This is also a Trunks and Marron romance story).

1. Grief

I do not own DB/Z/GT/Kai or anything related. I just own my ideas and characters that are not from DB/Z/GT/Kai.
This is my eighth Fan fiction. I hope you like it. Enjoy!

This is the story with the scenario that enemies arrived after Goku's departure and that Marron becomes a warrior.

My name is Marron. I am a young girl with a determination to learn how to fight. I have a will to fight. It's unlike me to want to learn how to fight, but I have my reasons. Reasons that will be explained. I am Marron and this is where my story begins.

_ To be a Warrior_

_Chapter 1_

Grief

No one is meant to be blamed for Father's death except me. I'm the only one to be blamed. He died trying to defeat the beast that was trying to blast me into oblivion. I still remember that day.

Mother, Father, and I were walking through the city after visiting Bulma and Bulla. An enemy appeared out of the shadows as we arrived on a corner of a strange street. The beast was at least 8 feet tall. It was...horrifying. The beast attacked Mother first. He attempted to throw her aside like a rag doll, but she wouldn't let herself be thrown around without a fight. After she collapsed, Father attacked the beast. He managed to stay on his feet for a few minutes before getting thrown into a building. The beast went after me next. Me, an easy prey to him. Me, a sitting duck. Me, a weakling who can't defend herself. Me, the reason why Father died.

As the beast went after me with an attack in its hand, Father got back on his feet and stood in front of the blast, shielding me from it. He took the hit when it was supposed to be me. He did. Not me. I was meant to die, but he prevented it. He died to save me. Me. His daughter. Why did he have to die? Why?

Mother was devastated. We lost him once before. She had came back to consciousness after the blast was fired. I saw the blast be thrown. It was traumatizing. It's a memory that will never erase my mind. Ever.

Mother went into a deep depression. She lost the will to fight. And to the people who know my mom, this was definitely unlike her, but Father's death changed her. It changed me too. I no longer think that learning to defend yourself is a waste. I think I should learn how to fight. I think that I will take the opportunity to fight into consideration. And I know just the person to go to.