AN. This is a little drabble I wrote while I was watching Dragon Ball. I'm watching through all of DB + DBZ (and when I get to it DBS) and this was something that really bugged me! Set in Dragon Ball while Goku is trying to get Mr Popo to let him see Kami so he can resurrect the dragon (and by extension all of his friends :D)
"Do you really think he'll be able to bring them back?"
The young woman's voice was soft and respectful, uncertain in her tone. There were a group of them around the table, two women, a man, a turtle, a pig and a floating cat. Outside another man was leaning against the sheltered wall of the pink house, his head leaning back against the wood and sweat shining on his skin. The group inside weren't aware that he was so close, thought he was still training in the swell of the sea, fighting the currents and the surges to increase the strength and endurance of his legs. He was taking a break though, his pants soaked heavy with water, his skin misted with the salty spray. He closed his eyes as he listened, pain beating in his chest alongside his heart.
"You know; Master Roshi, Krillin and the others?"
A pang of annoyance surged through him. He crossed his arms tight against his chest, ignoring the pain of several different cracked bones, large bruises and healing lacerations.
He wasn't properly able to articulate why this was so annoying to him. They kept saying that phrase: "Master Roshi, Krillin and the others". Over and over again. Every hushed moment of reflection was quickly followed by those six words, usually murmured in a soft fearful tone. Around him, away from him, in moments alone and while in the group together. Everyone in the group was guilty of it.
He couldn't remember the last time anyone had said the boy's name.
"Chiaotzu," he whispered to himself, his hands tightening on his own arms, the stretched ligaments in his right forearm protesting with a sharp twinge of pain. "Chiaotzu, Chiaotzu, Chiaotzu."
He was aware that many people had been murdered by Piccolo Daimao and his henchmen. Martial artists and innocent bystanders alike had fallen, struck down by the monster and his spawn. But none of them had died leaping from safety, from a hiding spot where they were completely hidden, directly into the line of fire. None of them had desperately and so, so bravely raised their voice against Piccolo in an attempt to destroy him.
The scream of pain still echoed in his ears. He opened his eyes against the image his mind tried to show him again, the scene that played in his nightmares every night and woke him in a cold sweat. He realised that none of the others in the house had been there, could really recognise what strength it had taken for the boy to jump out like he had, but to group him in with 'the others', the thousands of unnamed victims of Piccolo Daimao seemed to negate somewhat the sacrifice he had made.
At least Chiaotzu had died trying to defeat Piccolo Daimao directly.
Tien sighed softly to himself, straightening up. He cursed that monster every day and every night, hoping he suffered in hell for the blasphemy of murdering Chiaotzu, his little brother.
"Hopefully Son can bring back the dragon," he said softly to himself, looking up at the clear blue sky that overlooked this small, somehow cheerful island. "So he can bring back Master Roshi, Krillin…and Chiaotzu."
AN. And there we have it. I got so peeved every time they said that, both in English and Japanese. And then at one point to justify it they show Nam on the screen next to the other three! We didn't even see him die! Like, what? Anyways, my emotional responses are sometimes a little out of kilter XD Hope you enjoyed :) I'm also writing a series about the sacrifices in Dragon Ball. I'm sure there are a million, but I still want to so that may or may not be posted later if I feel like it :D Leave a review if you'd like, it's always appreciated :D
