Beyond the Dawn.
Prologue: Remember.
"I live in a world that has already ended."
"I live in a world where tomorrow never really comes."
"I live."
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Inhale and exhale.
Breath in, breath out.
Erase everything from the very core, its very essence.
He had seen this all before. He had felt this all before. He had smelled this all before. He had tasted this all before. He had been here before.
And now everything was gone.
He had walked along the streets. He had watched the children play around the fountain. He had seen near-lovers meet at the gate of the park. He had witnessed how a mother sighed when her child ran of chasing the ice-car. He had seen men in their business-suits, their confident pace, their chins held up high.
So completely unaware.
And now all was reduced to ashes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breath in and breath out.
Mothers and fathers, children and the unborn mingled in his breath.
He uttered a curse for every mile in ruins he crossed. He clenched his fist tighter for every flame licking their way up to the sky. He shed a dry tear for every second of silence.
That monster never left anything else. Silence. Death. Destruction. Flames and blood-stained soil. Abandoned dolls, broken toys.
There was no one left to scream. There was no one left to save. There was no one left.
There just was no one left at all.
All he had ever been, was late. Just a step behind. Just a second too late.
All he ever saw, was the memory of what he once loved.
That monster never even left footsteps. Never did he see a splash of violet blood across the Earth's shaking ground. It was all red, until, soon enough, the flames would make the stains vaporise as well.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He was the only one standing.
Breath in.
Breath out.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting something resembling dried-up hope. Or perhaps it was just the ashes. Perhaps it was nothing.
Inhale and exhale.
Breath in and out.
It was the only thing he could do.
"Let's go home, Gohan, there is nothing we can do here."
There never was.
Underneath his shaking feet, the Earth trembled.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"One day…"
"One day, I will kill you."
"…Even if it is the last thing I do."
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They talked about it over coffee, a tasteless brown liquid with about as much caffeine as a pineapple. But it was one of the few things left. In time, it might be the only thing left.
"Again, huh?" He heard the blue-haired genius say.
Carefully, he placed a card on his could-be card house.
"Yeah, just like always," the short man said, making a bitter sound between a laugh and a cough.
Carefully, he placed another card.
"That monster!" she spat, shaking her head as she took another sip of her coffee. "Won't he ever stop?"
Carefully, he placed another card.
"Not until we're all dead!" he raised his rasped voice.
He glanced over at them, saw how they both looked at each other and silently mouthed the words he knew she would say.
"If only Goku were here…"
But Goku, his father, was gone. They were all gone.
And they were never coming back.
There was nothing left to return to.
They both kept silent and he could feel their eyes burning. All eyes set on him, Son Gohan, the hope of this planet that had already ended, the boy who refused to speak, the boy who barely ate, barely slept, who only made paper cities and trained. He, the boy who was always late. Too late.
He placed another card.
"Wow, Gohan, that's so pretty," she said in the most awful cheery voice. The strain on it made him wince. "You're building a whole city of cards! You're so good at that."
Cities he built, indeed. A city of cards for every city broken down. A weak replica of what once was.
-- Today Niki-Town was completely erased from this Earth's surface…— the news reader on the radio sounded sad.
He felt her blue eyes burning through the side of his head as he leant forward and touched the cards with merely his fingertip, sending them shattering all over the table.
--The death toll has reached almost 7,000 with a total of 6,917. We would like to give our condolences to everyone who lost a loved one in this still on-going horror. Let's pray a hero will come soon.--
A single tear fell down her face.
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"One day, I will see in your eyes the same fear as in hers."
"One day you will definitely pay for this."
"One day, I will break your body just the same as you did his."
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He kicked in the air, feeling his muscles strain underneath his tanned skin.
Higher.
Faster.
Stronger.
Better.
The cool wind swept passed him, caressing his hair, drying up sweat. His foot touched the ground as he smashed his fist away from him, into nothingness.
But even so, he felt it collided with a chest hard as diamond. Every kick, every punch. One day, he would make that thing endure it.
If he survived long enough to become strong enough, that was. If only he could count enough meaningless tomorrows, if only he could forget enough horrible yesterdays.
A man of devotion.
A man out of the purest of steel.
A man who really should be only a boy.
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"I swear, I will avenge you."
"Oh, if only you were here…"
"Dad… I promise, one day, I will be just like you."
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Buruma sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead, staring out the window.
"He sure is at it again," she spoke softly, more to the glass before her than the small man behind her. "Maybe you should try to explain to him about 'counterproductiveness'."
"Trust me, Buruma," he answered, his once cheery voice now littered with sadness, "I tried. But in the end, his attitude is a logical one."
"Well, yes, but Kuririn…" she turned around and leant forward, until she was so close to him she could whisper and be heard clearly. Speaking as she was telling the most awful of prophecies, she stated: "but it's so unlike his father … And when I look at him, I always… I always see him standing there. But he would always smile."
"He isn't his father. We can't expect him to be," he smiled bitterly, adding: "We can't expect anyone to be like Goku."
"I know that, more than I think is healthy," she closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if she was dragging out the process of blinking. Wearily she opened them again, turning to the window.
"But we entrust our entire future onto this boy. This boy… who doesn't even try to pretend it's going to end well. All he ever does is prepare for death! He builds those wonderful cities of cards, sits there for hours working on them, only to push them down. He trains until he collapses. I never once heard him cry. I never once…" she lowered here voice until it was nothing but a mere exhale, in which vaguely Kuririn heard, "haven't been scared of him."
"Give that boy a break," he simply replied. "This is the only world he has ever known. All he has are the stories we told him about better times. Fairytales, that's what he thinks they are, probably."
"Poor Goku. If only he knew what his little boy had become."
"Still, in this boy, who has never smiled at us, I will entrust all my hope."
"In the end," she laughed bitterly, "he is all we have."
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"I don't want to believe it's too late for this world."
"As long as we can hold onto what is right, we can fix what is wrong."
"In a world where the last one standing is a hero, there must be something wrong."
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That day he left a note on the table saying he would go to see his mum, to check if she was still safe, and maybe, if he could, to try and persuade her to live with them in the basement of the once glorious Capsule Corporation. He knew they wouldn't read it until noon, wouldn't wait for him, wouldn't notice he was gone that soon, but he wanted to spare himself the yelling of going out without leaving notes.
He didn't want to hear them pretend to love him, to care for him, to be worried about them.
They didn't worry about him, they worried that that mirror image of their hero would disappear. He was merely their constant reminder of greatness, of a man so pure, so perfect everyone else was just reduced to black stains on his perfectly white canvas. He was just the image of their god in a sense, an image they both needed to cling onto desperately.
He was Son Goku's son, the boy with the same eyes, the same facial expressions, even when he looked too serious, even when he didn't smile.
He didn't even know why someone would smile. She only did it when she didn't want to start crying again. He only did on awkward moments.
And they both did it when they talked about better days.
He liked those stories. Stories that started with "Oh, do you remember?" Stories of great adventures, always ending in a happy moment. Stories about them, about what used to be.
He wondered if back then, they always started crying or staring out in space for hours on end too. He wondered if back then, they forgave everything so easily. He wondered if back then, everything was as perfectly stainless as they say now.
Or were those just memories, tampered with to fit what they would want to remember? Memories, modified to make them believe they had already lived such a happy life it was okay to die.
But even so, he was afraid.
He was so afraid to die.
Not now. Not like this.
Oh, please.
All he wanted, was to somehow, someday, look at someone sitting by the fire place and say "Do you remember?"
"Do you remember how we laughed that day?"
And then that person would look up, for once gain a spark of life, a magical glow and answer: "Yes, I do."
If he had known how to smile, at that thought, he certainly would have.
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He took the punch full force, unable to shake himself out of his dazed state.
Why?
Why was it like this?
He staggered backwards, felt his back collide with a rock. The air escaped from his lungs forcefully. Painfully.
Gravity pulled him down.
How?
How come it had come to this?
"Stand up," the voice commanded, but all he did in response was shiver in fear. "Stand up and face me with the same anger you had before!"
He slowly pushed himself back up, staring at the ground placed between his shaking hands. Gritting his teeth, he whipped his head up and stood tall, facing the monster.
"Come at me, boy," he snorted, "with all your strength. Do you not want to avenge your mother?"
He stiffened for a mere second.
Why?!
Why did it end up like this?!
Then, like lightning ripping through the sky he launched himself at that thing. Concentrating, remembering his training, he kicked. With a snort, the attack was easily blocked and he felt a claw wrapping around his ankle and was smashed against another tree.
How come?!
How come he was so utterly and completely –
He pushed himself back up, feeling something animalistic taking over.
"You," he hissed. "I swear, from the very bottom of my heart, I will end this."
"If that is truly so, then waste no words but act upon it," he said in the same endlessly mocking voice.
Once more, the boy pounced, launching balls made out of pure energy, his own life-power filled with hatred towards that monster. This moment, this seemingly meaningless and hopeless fight, this was what he had tried so hard for. It was what his life had worked towards.
And if he were to die right here and now, he wouldn't have lost anything.
Blood, both violet and red coloured the landscape.
Screams, both in a high, young voice and a deep voice resounded.
Everything was so fast. Kicks, punches, energy balls, more kicks, more punches, more energy balls. His knees shivering as he pulled himself together, as he repeatedly stood up.
This time, he would be the last one standing.
This time, he would definitely show those remaining even now there was at least someone winning.
This time, he would not be too late.
This time, there had to be something that could be done.
"I promise you.."
His body ached so badly.
"I swear…"
Everything hurt so much.
"Somehow, I…"
And what was he fighting for anyway?
"I will change this world."
Staring into black, vacant eyes he sunk through his powerless knees.
"I will kill you."
His face hit the ground.
"Piccolo…"
"It surely would be amusing to see you try to back up such grandiloquent words."
And then his world, a world that never really started but somehow always ended, faded to a deep red colour.
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He stared at her body in the dirt, as the rain poured down upon both of them.
For hours, he laid in the dirt, his cheek pressed against the cold ground, staring at her lifeless body. She didn't smell like his beloved mother anymore, instead she now spread a scent that made him want to throw up.
If only he had the strength left.
How long had he been there? Lying somewhere in the forest, with no one looking for him, dying lonely and uselessly, such was his destiny after all.
And they actually believed he could save them all. He, Son Gohan, the son of the legendary Son Goku. He, meant to do such great things.
But he didn't stand a chance. Even with all the hours wasted training, even with all the effort he put into this, he was worth nothing.
Such a distance between them, a distance he would never cross.
Why was he alive anyway?
Why couldn't he just die and get this over with?
It surely would be amusing to see you try to back up such grandiloquent words.
Those words… Did they mean the start of a challenge? Was that why he was still alive? Alive to play out a game, to try and back up his words?
Could this be a second chance?
He coughed up blood as a sarcastic laugh, feeling his body ache.
A second chance.
Just imagine.
In the forest the wolves cried to an empty sky.
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He awoke from his dreamless state, something that couldn't be called sleep, at the sound of a wolf's crying.
Slowly he opened his eyes, only to witness the most basic of animal laws. Eat, or be eaten.
The grey animal looked up venomously, just to dig in his meal once more. His nose already covered in red blood.
"Get away from her!" he heard himself cough, barely loud enough to make it to a whisper.
For the first time, he felt his eyes fill up with hot, salty tears and he pushed himself on his feet and kicked the animal away from his mother. It growled at him, but ran away.
He sank to his knees, grabbing his mother's mutilated body and pressing it against him. The smell made his head ache and made him gag, but he pressed her closer.
She had never deserved this.
His mother, that woman with the saddest smile, always staring up at the sky and telling him how much she loved him… wasn't it for her he tried so hard?
But now she lay there, her body already rotting away, wolves ripping apart her stomach, feasting on her organs, sipping her blood in which he was now soaked.
To die without knowing why, to die without being protected, to die all alone, to die, to die, to die
like this.
Why couldn't he change this world for the better?! Why did he let even her down, the only person who had told him he could do whatever he wanted because he was Gohan and not Son Goku's son.
Tears started overflowing as sounds that weren't even screams left his bruised lips. Shaking, trembling, shivering and clinging to the only thing he had left, he felt something essentially snapping.
He would take up this game.
And he would make that monster suffer. He would make him suffer like he was suffering now. He would take away all that was precious to him, all that he lived for.
He would humiliate that thing, break him down, witness in his eyes the same fear and loneliness as he felt right now.
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"If only I had been stronger."
"If only I had saved her."
"She was everything to me. She was the only thing left."
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They found him a day later, still clinging to his mother, but no longer crying. They found him staring at a point in the distance, whispering something they didn't fully understand.
Like a madman.
Like a person who belonged in this kind of world.
They never asked about it. In the end, the answer was always the same.
There was nothing I could do.
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"I will accept your challenge."
"I will do whatever it takes to kill you."
"I will destroy you, from your very core."
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"Buruma, I have a request to make."
It was the first time he actually spoke to her and she couldn't help but shiver at the tone of it.
A month after…
Only a month after…
But he still lived. He survived.
He pulled through.
"Oh? Tell me about it?" she said as she wrapped her hands around the cup of coffee, trying not to stare at him. She took a sip of the brown liquid, staring at him over the cup.
"A few years ago, you mentioned making a time-machine. You said we could get my father from a different timeline to help us."
She nodded, as she focused more on keeping her appearance than on his words, placing her cup back on the table.
"Finish it. I will go back to another timeline and kill Piccolo there."
She held her hand to a side, suppressing a smile both out of mockery and honest surprise. That boy, he didn't actually believe he could do such a thing?
"Is that so?"
"Yes, that is the condition between Piccolo and me."
She stared at him, refusing to look dumbly, but unsure what in the world he was getting at.
"That is the reason I am still alive. I will destroy him. In this world, in every world I can. I will wipe his very existence out of every possible future, past and present."
She placed her cup down with such velocity the brown liquid splashed all across the table.
"Oh, please! Gohan! Just look at you! First of all, you're in no state to travel yet! You think wounds like yours just heal? You're a mess, both mentally and physically!" she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "Who do you think you are? Ignoring us your whole life and now telling me what to do?!"
He shrugged before he spoke, already dismissing his own words before he actually spoke them. "It was a request, but you're right… You don't have to help me."
He turned around, leaving her both angry and dazzled as she stared at his retreating back. Before he walked out of the door he stood still.
"But, Buruma, I'll tell you this. With or without your help, I will go. I will avenge mum. I will avenge dad. I will… I will definitely," for a second he paused, almost as if collecting himself as he once more turned around. "I will definitely make a better future for at least one world."
Without another word, he turned around and walked outside. Staring at how he slowly faded in the distance, she slowly sat down again.
"Gohan…" she whispered, almost as if saying his name would make it all go away.
But it would never go away, she realised, not unless they forced it to vanish.
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He stared at her over coffee.
"So… you do want to help him?"
She flicked her hair backwards, stretching her arms as if she were yawning.
"It feels like the right thing to do."
He shrugged, waving the steam away with his hand above his cup. "I thought you hated him."
"Oh, Kuririn, please," she sighed overdramatically, "you know that isn't true. My woman's heart was simply hurt because he wouldn't acknowledge us all. Ignoring such a beautiful woman like me…"
He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Even though her temper has worn out, because 'it simply took too much energy' as she had stated years ago, there was still a spark left and he wasn't going to pour gasoline on it.
"Well, yeah, he has some issues," he tried to get her to the point once more. "But you changed your mind."
"Yes, I did." She traced the rim of her cup, her blue uncut bangs falling before her eyes. "That day, he yelled at me. Actually raised his voice. It wasn't out of anger, I realised that later. It was just out of pure self-hatred."
She looked up, her eyes softening.
"That boy… he bears such a strong hate towards himself. That was when I realised… all those years, refusing to talk to us, refusing to be normal to at least some degree, it wasn't because of us. It was just because he hated himself so much he didn't want to bother us. And now ChiChi died…" she shook her head in sadness. "This hopeless dream of vengeance, it might be the only thing that keeps him from going completely insane, and…"
Kuririn suppressed a shiver, as he swallowed thickly and drank his coffee.
"And at that moment, I thought… if we don't save at least one world, aren't we all going to end up like him?"
Outside, the rain desperately tried to wash away all the blood.
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Big, salty drops of rain fell from his soaked hair onto the ground. He shivered against the harsh cold, but didn't move. Motionlessly, he stood with his back against a tree, staring at the horizon before him.
If only he had been stronger.
If only he had been faster.
If only he had been someone else.
He could still remember how she smiled at him, a smile so beautifully sad, when he told her he would live with Buruma and Kuririn to train.
I will become stronger, mummy, and then I will save everyone.
But how could he?
How could a boy like him ever save the world?
He watched her die. He let her die.
He couldn't even save her.
In the end, whether he had existed or not, this world would still be the same.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He closed his eyes and erased everything.
A week longer. He only had to wait a week and then the time machine would be finished.
And then, he would personally make sure, everything would be different. He would make sure that beyond the dawn, lay something else than destruction.
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The bald monk pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the young man stand in the rain, soaked completely through. Wearily, he tried to remember the day cheering someone had become so hard to do. But no one was goofing around anymore, no one was smiling, no one dared to say a joke.
What was left to joke about, anyway?
"Kuririn?"
He turned around, to find Buruma standing in the door way, a fresh trace of oil smeared on her cheek. For the first time since long, a smile decorated her face and even though she hadn't slept for at least two nights in a row, she seemed to have regained some of the glow she used to have. He couldn't help but give her a soft smile back.
"Can you tell Gohan it's ready?" she said.
"Sure thing," he said, mastering as much enthusiasm as he still could.
He turned around and while he made his way outside, he felt something that just might be a little hope burn in his chest.
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"Even if we can't save our world,
wouldn't you feel happy to know,
we changed another world?"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Won't you be pleased to know that,
even for this once,
it was us saving all of them?"
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Inhale.
"So, be sure you don't involve yourself with the people too much. Even though we're changing the world for the better, you have to be careful you don't cause too much of 'the butterfly effect'. You know, just be careful."
"Ey, Gohan, if you see Goku, say hi for me, 'kay?"
"Kuririn, please, what did I just say! But, oh well, I guess it's okay! When you come back, be sure to tell me how beautiful I am in that other world!"
Exhale.
"Okay, I set you to the time we think Piccolo must be born. I gave you a little time before, just to know for sure."
"We'll be waiting for you to return."
He smiled. "Yeah, I'll try my hardest. Don't die."
They both laughed even though it was a promise that was harder to keep than they pretended. He stared down at the button.
Inhale.
"Good luck!"
Exhale.
"We're counting on you."
With his eyes set to a point beyond the dawn, he started the machine. There was a voice telling him how she set him, telling him to prepare.
A countdown.
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Author's Note:
To make this clear, Piccolo is a lot stronger in this timeline than he was originally. Basically, this is set in a Android-like timeline, with the only difference being it's Piccolo XD Also, the Saiyans never came to this planet, so no Vegeta and stuff. But, oh well. And yes, I use the 'Japanese' names of Krillin and Bulma, because I like them more XDD I'm evil like that.
This story is slightly AU, I guess. Well, I don't really know what to say about this story XD
Please review! It's really appreciated. Likes or dislikes, I'm willing to hear both!
I would very much like to thank Mo-Mo, who BETA'd this story. She's REALLY awesome! She gave me a few ideas and even inspired me to rewrite the ending of this chapter, because, believe me, it sucked the first time.
Hoping to see you again for the next chapter,
Jazyrha.
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