Human
[Author's Notes: This takes place during the Tenkaichi Budokai, when Supopo-Bi'chi is fighting Videl. The italics are Gohan's thoughts. Yes, I do realize that the title is really stupid . . . I couldn't think of a better one, so if you review, title suggestions are also welcome. =)]
Rage pulses through my veins, engulfing my soul with a fiery anger, and slowly etching itself into my being. Tranquility no longer bathes my essence. No. Now is not the time for that. It's far beyond. This, this is war.
Kick. Punch. Dodge. So close, yet still, so far. Bodies collided, sometimes hitting and missing in other occasions. Blood trickled freely from gaping wounds, each new cut increasing the flow. Each wound bringing a look of agony to her face. Yet sill, she fought. She wouldn't give up that easily.
The world around me disintegrates into nothing, I see only her. Her swift form valiantly fighting on. Yet even I can clearly see that this fight won't be hers. Not like the others. Even I, with the most faith, I can see it. This, she won't win.
Hit. Dodge. Trip. Another round begins. Another round of bloodshed. Another round of desperation. Quickly, her wounds grow . . . both in size and in number. Yet still, she fights on. Luck isn't on her side.
These feelings course through me as I watch her, rage mixed with a strange warmth that I've never felt before. This warmth spreads through my soul, and this warmth feeds my growing fury. I'm angry for her. Why?
Miss. Slam. Kick. Her misses are growing in number, and now anyone in the crowd can see that she isn't winning this one. The daughter of the mighty Mr. Satan will be defeated. Everyone can see . . . but not her. And so she fights on, though her body threatens to break, though her spirit—her pride, is hurting. She fights on.
The frustration builds with my rage, and still the warmth fuels my temper. And from the corner of my eye, I can see that they're staring at me. What does it matter? I can't bear to watch this any longer. I need to do something. But deep inside, I know that I can't. And so, my frustration continues to grow. Their eyes are cold, can't they feel her pain? Vegeta's lips move, and though his eyes never meet mine, though his voice is only a whisper, I know what he's saying. The hard glare in his eyes is enough. He's telling me that I'm weak, that a worthless human girl shouldn't get to me. But she does.
And if love is weakness to the Saiyans, they can have my strength . . . take away this cursed blood, I don't need it. I don't want it. I'll be human.
[AN: Review it!! FOR GOHAN!!!]