A Telekinetic Christmas
This is my first attempt at a DBZ fic so please R&R - I need all the feedback I can get.
--
My father's family name being Zu, and the name given upon me by the orphanage was Chikasaburou, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Chaozu. And thus it became the name to which I where to be referred by, both the hand that fed me throughout the beginnings of my life and everyone else. Anyway, on a cold and snowy day after the episode of my life spent at the orphanage had been long since brought to an end. I recall how it began with me being brutally awakened.
'Wake up brother, hurry and wake up!' those were the words that had succeeded in deporting me from the land of the Nod for that day. The voice belonged to a young child, eager and excited to open up his presents, for this day happened to be nothing less than Christmas Day itself.
After having seen proof of success in his strenuous efforts of waking me up, this task can be summarised in the action of shaking me along with the aforementioned verbal communication to which I answered with drowsy mumbling, he continued saying:
'Wake up sleepyhead! It's time to open up our Christmas presents'
Eager as I was practically jumped out of bed after I had comprehended what he said. When I say that I mean in the sense of 'jumping out of bed' that was reasonable for a child of my young age. I sat up, rubbed my eyes and yawned and instead of closing my eyes once again I got out of bed, although I have to admit after a minute or two had passed.
Since it was winter and rather cold despite of the presence of the fireplace downstairs I put on my warming white robe-de-chambre, or as my more ignorant self would have expressed it back then: my dressing gown. It was peculiar this dressing-gown, let me tell you. It was made completely out of cotton and it had small black-coloured cranes that covered it and with the fitting kanji clearly visible on the back of it. I remember it having to be custom-made since none of the standard ones had fitted my height, other than that it was like any other. It was comfortable and it kept me warm during the course of enjoying my morning-tea and that was ample for my needs. And do I really have to mention that I also wore a matching nightcap, I won't even begin mentioning the slippers..
Anyway, after having put it on I hurried out of the sleeping chambers and rushed down the stairs in order to arrive at the main room, for it was there the Christmas tree had been assembled.
I recall that I was very excited, this was the first time - during the course of me being a disciple there - that they'd managed to get a hold of one. We'd been courteously standing idle trying to make our high expectations less obvious as our sensei and his brother had presented the freshly stolen Hoipoi-capsule before us. At first it had refused to work, but after some brief low-level tinkering accompanied by a torrent of profanities it worked. And what a splendid sight that Christmas tree was; regardless of how old and torn-out that piece of junk was, with it's rust-spots and malfunctioning lights it's essence made our hearts feel a little warmer than they'd felt just a moment before. And that was the important thing, rather than the artificial tree itself.
Upon my arrival I found my brother, who had awakened me just minutes earlier, sitting restlessly waiting together with some other less talented disciples of what names my memory have betrayed me of. Not everyone was less talented though; some was fit for other things such as the military and similar careers although their relation to our sensei could prove to defile their names. We were a small group of disciples, I was later told that it was rumoured that our sensei never had trained anyone before but due to a dispute between a rival of his he had suddenly begun. At first we were about fifteen, but as time went by more and more dropped of. Some because of their lacking interest when it came to studying martial arts both through strengthening their physical as well as their mental strength, especially the latter one. We, the ones who had remained faithful became a more weld-together group and this was reflected not only in our increased strength but in our new-grown honour as well.
The insipid characters that sporadically dropped out found success mostly in organised crime, I only have vague memories of it though.
Our sensei was standing next to the tree looking about the room and upon my entrance he nodded at me signalling that I was late and was to be seated in order for him to begin, apparently everyone else had arrived before me. I padded to the place where my brother was sitting and sat down next to him on the fitted carpet.
The room was during this whole time filled with chatter but as soon as our sensei cleared his throat in order to begin it immediately ceased, much to his delight. He sneered and began:
'Good morning my loyal disciples, today is Christmas day and like any other day we'll continue improving our skills for if one wish to become powerful thou must train hard every day regardless of what day it happens to be. Under the tree there are Christmas presents, they are labelled with your name and you are to take them but you are *not* to open them while you are in here. And finally, a merry Christmas to you all!'
After having finished his annual Christmas-speech or what you should call it he remained at the side of the tree as we mechanically formed a line leading up to the tree through the aisle.
'Have you noticed his grin? There's something fishy about this. After all, sensei isn't supposed to be Santa Claus' my brother remarked cynically.
I told him that he shouldn't show such distrust towards sensei and his seemingly new-found kindness. To that I also added the immortal cliché that it is not the gift itself that in which the importance lies, rather the thought behind it.
To which he replied 'That's what's worrying me'. After that it was his turn to go up to the tree where he fetched his gift, bowed and thanked our sensei before strolling back to our sleeping-chambers.
Once back there after our daily morning-exercise I sat along with my brother and enjoyed a game of Shogi, regardless of the fact that I was a rather weak player in comparison. Although I had actually won several times during the course of our history of games, regardless of the fact that he would let me undo some rather unwise moves. Whilst playing I carefully using selective hints brought up the topic on whether or not it would be 'unhonourable' towards our sensei to engage in some of the bartering I had overheard was going to take place that night. For we lived simple, like monks, and had few personal possessions so that we would not grow distracted from our main focus that was our training. We concluded that it would be wisest to resist such materialistic foolishness and keep our gifts for ourselves as not to loose their inbound kami.
The concentration in the room felt very intense and the lack of sounds only added to the atmosphere as we focused our minds towards the game. Then suddenly my heart skipped a beat as the wooden-door to our room, which had stood ajar, opened with a large creak.
This is my first attempt at a DBZ fic so please R&R - I need all the feedback I can get.
--
My father's family name being Zu, and the name given upon me by the orphanage was Chikasaburou, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Chaozu. And thus it became the name to which I where to be referred by, both the hand that fed me throughout the beginnings of my life and everyone else. Anyway, on a cold and snowy day after the episode of my life spent at the orphanage had been long since brought to an end. I recall how it began with me being brutally awakened.
'Wake up brother, hurry and wake up!' those were the words that had succeeded in deporting me from the land of the Nod for that day. The voice belonged to a young child, eager and excited to open up his presents, for this day happened to be nothing less than Christmas Day itself.
After having seen proof of success in his strenuous efforts of waking me up, this task can be summarised in the action of shaking me along with the aforementioned verbal communication to which I answered with drowsy mumbling, he continued saying:
'Wake up sleepyhead! It's time to open up our Christmas presents'
Eager as I was practically jumped out of bed after I had comprehended what he said. When I say that I mean in the sense of 'jumping out of bed' that was reasonable for a child of my young age. I sat up, rubbed my eyes and yawned and instead of closing my eyes once again I got out of bed, although I have to admit after a minute or two had passed.
Since it was winter and rather cold despite of the presence of the fireplace downstairs I put on my warming white robe-de-chambre, or as my more ignorant self would have expressed it back then: my dressing gown. It was peculiar this dressing-gown, let me tell you. It was made completely out of cotton and it had small black-coloured cranes that covered it and with the fitting kanji clearly visible on the back of it. I remember it having to be custom-made since none of the standard ones had fitted my height, other than that it was like any other. It was comfortable and it kept me warm during the course of enjoying my morning-tea and that was ample for my needs. And do I really have to mention that I also wore a matching nightcap, I won't even begin mentioning the slippers..
Anyway, after having put it on I hurried out of the sleeping chambers and rushed down the stairs in order to arrive at the main room, for it was there the Christmas tree had been assembled.
I recall that I was very excited, this was the first time - during the course of me being a disciple there - that they'd managed to get a hold of one. We'd been courteously standing idle trying to make our high expectations less obvious as our sensei and his brother had presented the freshly stolen Hoipoi-capsule before us. At first it had refused to work, but after some brief low-level tinkering accompanied by a torrent of profanities it worked. And what a splendid sight that Christmas tree was; regardless of how old and torn-out that piece of junk was, with it's rust-spots and malfunctioning lights it's essence made our hearts feel a little warmer than they'd felt just a moment before. And that was the important thing, rather than the artificial tree itself.
Upon my arrival I found my brother, who had awakened me just minutes earlier, sitting restlessly waiting together with some other less talented disciples of what names my memory have betrayed me of. Not everyone was less talented though; some was fit for other things such as the military and similar careers although their relation to our sensei could prove to defile their names. We were a small group of disciples, I was later told that it was rumoured that our sensei never had trained anyone before but due to a dispute between a rival of his he had suddenly begun. At first we were about fifteen, but as time went by more and more dropped of. Some because of their lacking interest when it came to studying martial arts both through strengthening their physical as well as their mental strength, especially the latter one. We, the ones who had remained faithful became a more weld-together group and this was reflected not only in our increased strength but in our new-grown honour as well.
The insipid characters that sporadically dropped out found success mostly in organised crime, I only have vague memories of it though.
Our sensei was standing next to the tree looking about the room and upon my entrance he nodded at me signalling that I was late and was to be seated in order for him to begin, apparently everyone else had arrived before me. I padded to the place where my brother was sitting and sat down next to him on the fitted carpet.
The room was during this whole time filled with chatter but as soon as our sensei cleared his throat in order to begin it immediately ceased, much to his delight. He sneered and began:
'Good morning my loyal disciples, today is Christmas day and like any other day we'll continue improving our skills for if one wish to become powerful thou must train hard every day regardless of what day it happens to be. Under the tree there are Christmas presents, they are labelled with your name and you are to take them but you are *not* to open them while you are in here. And finally, a merry Christmas to you all!'
After having finished his annual Christmas-speech or what you should call it he remained at the side of the tree as we mechanically formed a line leading up to the tree through the aisle.
'Have you noticed his grin? There's something fishy about this. After all, sensei isn't supposed to be Santa Claus' my brother remarked cynically.
I told him that he shouldn't show such distrust towards sensei and his seemingly new-found kindness. To that I also added the immortal cliché that it is not the gift itself that in which the importance lies, rather the thought behind it.
To which he replied 'That's what's worrying me'. After that it was his turn to go up to the tree where he fetched his gift, bowed and thanked our sensei before strolling back to our sleeping-chambers.
Once back there after our daily morning-exercise I sat along with my brother and enjoyed a game of Shogi, regardless of the fact that I was a rather weak player in comparison. Although I had actually won several times during the course of our history of games, regardless of the fact that he would let me undo some rather unwise moves. Whilst playing I carefully using selective hints brought up the topic on whether or not it would be 'unhonourable' towards our sensei to engage in some of the bartering I had overheard was going to take place that night. For we lived simple, like monks, and had few personal possessions so that we would not grow distracted from our main focus that was our training. We concluded that it would be wisest to resist such materialistic foolishness and keep our gifts for ourselves as not to loose their inbound kami.
The concentration in the room felt very intense and the lack of sounds only added to the atmosphere as we focused our minds towards the game. Then suddenly my heart skipped a beat as the wooden-door to our room, which had stood ajar, opened with a large creak.