Disclaimer: I don't own anything, db. Dbz or dbgt

The orange rays of the setting sun bounded off the golden corn, the fields aglow with the splendid colours of the setting sun, the wind blew gently, a cool and refreshing breeze that spread a sweet smelling pollen through the air, the flowers in full bloom swayed like a rainbow their bright assortment of colourful petals waving to the leaving sun. Nature hid the pain, hid the truth; the suffering and anguish that was fought just beyond the hills.

Here the once rich, green grass had gone. The small, tall, short and fat flowers all vanished and although the warming rays of the sun still shone, it could no longer hide the ugliness. The grass lay flat, pressed hard into the mud, large patches of mud replaced where nature had once grown. The flowers lay trodden and broken, fallen or snapped at their stems and their once beautiful petals now lay randomly amongst the area.

The sweet smelling pollen had gone from here, in its place stood blood and death. No lullaby sounds filled the air, instead came the cries of the dying, the cries of shock and pain. The cries of moral from the falling troops echoed through the skies, they fought hard and they fought on. The silver of their armour shone romantically as the charging troops once again met their enemies, the clash of metal, and the cries of horses as the reared in surprise. All were the usual sounds of war.

He sat on his horse, waiting for his command, waiting to lead his men on into battle. His hair lay hidden under the metal helmet, the red mane upon his head gear swayed gently in the breeze as he waited patiently. He knew this all, he knew the sights and he knew the sounds, the army had conquered many countries for their Emperor and this battle was one of many he had been involved in. He was general of one of the largest and well trained legions in his nations army, he travelled far and wide for his nation to fight for his leaders and this battle was no challenge to his loyalty.

The sound of the horn drifted in, he raised his sword into the air, his battle cry mimicked by the troops that sat behind him as he led them into battle, the horses rearing before they ran with the speed of lightning around the hills. The battle raged on, doubled in fury and power because of the newly added troops. The cries continued, the clashing of metal echoed insanely in the air as men fell, the cried of pain from injury or loss of comrades filled the clouds above.

His sword swung high as he attacked those he didn't even know, he had grown up with this, the bloodshed and the pain of loss, the fear of battle no longer attacked him. Past pains, past training and loss had corrupted him, he no longer cared for his enemy, and to him they were the very scum that destroyed his life, the very bastards that took away the ones he loved. They could deserve nothing more than the cold metal of his sword, the privilege of death.

His cloths were bloody, dirt stained and sweaty. The battle had been hard for his troops, a non-stop battle that raged for hours before the enemy retreated, as much as he hated it his command had been to let them leave and so he had with much displeasure. And now he stormed angrily and tired down the corridors towards his superior officer who awaited his description of battle for record and to know how the highly trained soldiers he had been given had behaved and worked.

The tall centurion knocked rapidly on the door and awaited command to enter. The room was well lit with candle light, reflecting off the helmet that he held respectfully under his arm. His black hair spewed in all directions and fell slightly as he fell into a bow, his eyes were deep and dark, reflecting all light in the room like mirrors, his face showed no emotion other that tiredness as he looked at the other centurions in the room, all seven of them, the expressions on their faces as they looked at him told him where the eighth centurion was.

A Centurion of his experience didn't go into battle not expecting loss and the constant loss of those he worked hard training always stabbed slightly at his heart but Yamacha was more than a soldier to him, he had been a close friend but any outbreak of the emotions he felt now would get him punished so he just did his job. All saying the same "we're sorry Goku" as he left the room and back to his quarters, it was Bulma who he truly pitied, not himself, she was Yamcha's lover so she would be the one to suffer most and to be truthful he very rarely felt very much in the loss of someone anymore. Those bastards had taken another life that he held close and he had let them go again! It seemed no matter how often they battled, how often they let them retreat those stupid fools always came back for more.

Maybe he was heartless, that's what most people said but in truth it was wrong. He was just misunderstood in his actions, it was true that he could be heartless at times, even he admitted that but his emotions and opinions weren't done negatively through heartlessness but through depression and heartbreak.

It was a long story, one that he wished he could read and pity the characters but it wasn't, he had to live through it and as much as he hated it and as much as it hurt he felt there was no need in wasting energy in wishing it wasn't so or complaining about it. So he kept it to himself, lived life with his faced turned to the shadows, used to the darkness and cold it gave but still wishing to feel the warmth of the sun once again, he had forgotten how it felt to be warm.

The sun provided no warmth for him, his heart icy at the lack of heat it had, his mind dark and envious. It had started as unbearable sorrow and had grown into uncontrollable anger and now it was a mixture of the two depending on the situation. At night he didn't cry, in day he didn't cry, he no longer despised his feelings, no longer longed for them to go, they made him strong, made him unafraid.

Life had always thrown it's dirt at him, laughed at him as he lay abused and crying in the mud. He had envied those around him, those who were happy, who had what he used to but lost so long ago and now as an adult, a young man, he had begun his journey into victory, into finally defeating those who had hurt him, pulled so violently those who he loved from his small arms.

TBC

Okies well that's the first chap of my new story, hope you like it, I was feeling very depressed lol and was listening to sad music ( so I got a lot of primary feeling into this. This is going to begin to be a romance in a chapter or two , just need to build up a background and some feeling. Please R&R thank you.

Lots of love and luck

Chemical Connection

Xx xx xx