The End of Waiting

Age is such a strange concept to an ageless creature. Like a disease, or more a pitiable crutch that is safely designated to the victim and the victim alone. An odd affliction that they would feel completely removed from. In fact in some ways, it might even be seen as humorous, after all; sympathy is relative to one's own personal experiences. Someone so removed from it may only laugh at the resulting tribulations, of the pitiful crutch. And to someone who has made mortal beings an enemy; such an unshared weakness inevitably becomes a source of extreme pride. A feeling of undeniable superiority would spring forward like a well spring.

Android 17 paused, as he drank in the view.

"How pitiable." he commented to himself.

He gazed down at the shrine at the bottom of the hill. The black clad figures were filing into it slowly but steadily, each wearing a look of reserved sadness. The reddish orange light of the setting sun bathed the area , making everything seem just a little bit drearier. The sound of vehicles driving up, was all that drowned out the cawing of birds and the prattle of footfalls on the stone path of this little shrine out in the country, which itself was rustic and in need of repairs. It hardly seemed like a worthy place for this kind of gathering, but if anyone could bring this many people to the middle of no where... well.

He shook his head and sighed, this was quite troubling for some reason. He was just being overly sensitive though, he knew.

Things were almost ready to start now. There were so many attendees he was in danger of losing a seat. It was time to get a move on. He checked himself one more time; he wore a black suit and tie, obviously. A bit unnatural for him but necessary. He also wore a pair of shades, which with his rare colored eyes was also necessary It had been a long, long time since he had contact with any of these people, but even so, he would not risk being recognized... It was probably overkill, though. Even to those who knew who he was, he had to be a distant or more likely forgotten memory by now... even to her, he imagined.

As he made his way down, head bowed slightly and hands at his sides, he half expected to be stared at, singled out as the stranger in the group. But he only received a few solemn nods, which he stiffly returned in short order.

And as he made his into the crowd he was also surprised by the silence. Extreme silence. Although some people stopped to greet one another they did so wordlessly, he couldn't make out even a whisper, only the odd sobbing here and there. It is only at a funeral will people be and not talk.

As he mingled his way through the crowd to the entrance, he noticed that some attendees held the doors and allowed others to pass. He decided he should follow suit and offered to take a young man's place on the left door. The dark haired kid was almost his height with a mark on his chin. He seemed to be a tad too cheery for the occasion, smiling slightly. He offered only a slight nod and grin in appreciation and went to take a seat in the already crowded building.

17 shrugged the odd behavior off, unsympathetic kids were always being dragged to these things.

It looked like everyone was jostling for a seat close to the front, 17 noticed, looking inward from his doorman position, some already opting for standing room just to be closer. It was quite touching really, that they felt so strongly. He, on the other hand, was glad to know he wouldn't have too much trouble getting the back seat he wanted.

So he turned his attention back to the incoming crowd. He wasn't surprised, when he found that he didn't recognize a soul. That man had known so many people after all. That and the ones he'd know have been mostly buried already.

He glanced back to the podium wondering who was going to do the ceremony. He would prefer someone he knew, but that was starting to look increasingly unlikely.

As he looked back to the in-coming crowd again, he suddenly came eye to eye with the very last person he had expected to, or better said, the last one he had hoped too, Android 18. His dear sister. She looked him right in the eyes as she passed him, and it took everything in him to look as passive as possible. She looked the same as she ever did, though dressed in funeral garb. Her hair the same length, same style, her eyes were wide, but also passive. Listless.

He was almost disappointed, rather than relieved, that she didn't seem to recognize him in the slightest. One glance, and she walked right past him... But what had he expected, she must have thought him dead all this time anyway. Though he couldn't help feeling bitter, he still believed she had found it far too easy to forget him after that incident. When he thought of all he went through to get back just to find she had moved on with a family of her own, it built up a rage in him.

A rage that had dulled over the years, but was there none the less.

She walked over and took a seat in the middle aisle with an elderly woman she had walked in with. He could only guess, maybe it was her granddaughter... At this point; very possible. Getting over himself he wondered how the years had played on her mind.

Watching her husband, her friends, then her children, even her grandchildren by now growing old and dying while time stood still for her... The the time itself was enough to drive anyone mad, a century and a half now. People weren't meant to live this long.

… That's why he didn't allow it to get to him. When he realized how long he was going to wait he took measures to try and keep himself sane. He didn't want his mind changing anymore than it already had. But her... she had to live among these normals and play at being human... that, to him was the most horrible way to spend such time. He wouldn't be surprised if she was completely gone at this point... having watched so many loved ones die...

...

Soon someone beckoned to take his place at the door, he allowed it with a smile and took the seat he had picked out, at the far back-right of the building; giving himself a view of everything and, most importantly, everyone... and, he quickly picked out the familiar faces he was looking for, all seven of them... including 18. Oh yes, they were down to only seven now. But that was the point...

It seemed odd they all would show up in the same place, but none of them could show the disrespect to skip an event like this... Some of them represented hurdles to him, others were just relics. All in all; there was Piccolo, Dende, Mr. Popo, and Korin who all sat up front on the left. Mr. Roshi sat a couple aisles back with a similarly aged man and Majin Buu across from them.

First there was Piccolo. He had at one time been 17's equal, but further training had allowed his power to soar, perhaps to that of android 16 or Cell, maybe even higher. But old age had started to weigh on him. It's true Namekians can live hundreds of years easily, but they aren't saiyans. They don't age in a way that allows them to retain their youth for as long as possible. Comparing him to a similar human age, Piccolo was in his early to mid fifties, a bit past his prime. Age had, at the very least, made them equals again 17 figured. He also figured he was going to find out for sure pretty soon.

Next was Majin Buu. Majin Buu had a power beyond even a Super saiyan 2 from what 17 could figure, but something happened to him about a century ago, when Hercule died. Majin Buu did not react well to it, in fact he started a rampage. It was left to Gohan to take him down, which he only barely managed to do. When Buu finally calmed, the Z fighters were forced to reevaluate the threat he posed. After all, eventually no one would be alive who could put him down should he have another outburst. They couldn't bring themselves to kill him, so they had to think outside the box.

But even 17 himself didn't know for sure what had been done. But Buu was thinner now, his skin lighter, a big smile plastered his face at all times. Much creepier looking, in 17's opinion. He had gone from a semi innocent man-child to something like a children show host.
But most importantly, he had gotten weaker. It was hard to say by how much, but logic dictated they wanted someone to be able to police him down the line, as Vegeta, Goku and Gohan became decrepit. And that job, 17 believed, was most likely left to Piccolo. He was certain Buu was weaker than Piccolo. Or at least, he was sure enough to bet his life on it.

The others were largely unchanged, save Dende who looked a lot more like piccolo now. In fact it was getting hard to tell them apart. But it didn't hinder 17 much, a quick power check and they were as different as could be.

The others didn't matter...

Finally it appeared as though the ceremony was beginning, and the place was packed. A young blond girl and and an elderly man he assumed was her grandfather, sat down beside him. The girl was pretty and noticing 17's glance, decided to introduce herself.

"Hello, I'm Son Meryl," she said with a smile. She wore a conservative black dress and shoes. She wore her blond hair up in a clasp . Her eyes were a dark green color, her breasts were big and her figure shapely. To put it bluntly, he was attractive.

"Hello" he answered, a bit shocked at her cheer, "I'm.."

He paused wondering what he should say, "Nagou, Juuna Nagou." He wretched a little at himself for picking something so corny, but his ego wanted to see if something so obvious could be seen through by these normals.

"Your name makes seventeen!" her eyes beamed, somehow she seemed even cheerier, "Are you one of 18's grandsons?"

17 blinked, she had both seen through it, and yet was also completely oblivious... but then again not surprising.

"Well more like a nephew" He wondered what someone might take from hearing that, but he was kind of fixated on this girl, he wanted to play with her a bit, "You're related to one from that old group too?"

This time her father spoke up, seemingly agitated by their conversation.

"I'm Kohan, Goku's grandson, and if you don't mind I'm trying to hear the eulogy!" he whispered hoarsely.

Kohan was short, walked with a cane, had dark hair and light features. He didn't remind 17 of the grandfather even slightly, but he turned his attention back to the front anyway. He had no intention of bothering someone in his position today, even if he was sitting at the back despite his close relation, he didn't need the drama. But it seemed Meryl was of a different attitude.

"Why do you have to so rude all the time?" she whispered back in the same hoarse tone, "He was just being polite!"

"Why do you have to be so talkative? At a funeral of all places!" he bickered back.

"How dare you, I'm just being social! Maybe if you weren't such a grump all the time I wouldn't have to be so nice to everyone to make up for it!"

What a ridiculous couple he had been seated next too, 17 groaned inwardly. He decided to try and tune them out as their argument didn't seem to have an end in sight.

He looked toward the front, despite what Kohan had said the ceremony hadn't started yet, but a couple men he didn't recognize moved toward the coffin, which was adorned with... just a ridiculous amount of flowers. They each grabbed a corner and slowly yet carefully lifted it open, revealing the occupant.

For a moment the building became so quiet you could here a pin drop, even the birds and the bickering duo beside him took notice.

But it was understandable, after all, it was Goku.