The Black Dragon

Volume I

Star Fazed

Prologue – SaiyaJin Blood

By: Juki

                                                Perspiration descended upon the verdant earth like raindrops that came from the sky. Line by line, thin traces of presences sauntered in the milieu in movement faster than the normal eye could ever see. Twenty-four years had passed since the last saga had unfolded, where they last saw the face of an enemy, last faced war, last waged a battle. Though the battles of humanity had stopped, the humanity battles have not ceased and as legend and their blood still carries through…so be their desire to rule victorious over diluted human blood. A nation raised in the heat of battle, created to fight and never will they deny their heritage. Once a strong nation amongst the smallest of the stars with the biggest ranging territory, in the blink of an eye, dispersed like a white dwarf in the universe. Its only hope…escaped and from there, fulfilled the destiny of a forgotten Prince. To raise up, one day, his kingdom and with it, his people tied by blood and will once again, someday far in the distance, be glorious again. Their names still hot at the tips of tongues in forsaken landmasses, the fear that they brought…still clear in minds of the old…and as one to another, spread like the pollen weed, spread like wild flames…touching everyone, planting seeds of fear that one day, they will return. Who were they? They were, and they still are…the SaiyaJin.

                                Wicked flames of obsidian coiled into the air, bent with the wind. Onyx orbs fixated upon the dismal place in comparison to his majestic past, once held firmly in the palm of his gloved hand, now dust in the air of others who touch it. In his corruption, in his mind, he was not only passing to the next generation all he knew as a warrior, all the honour he held on his crown, that was not his ultimate purpose…his ultimate purpose was to pass his crown to the next, though deemed unworthy, worthier than human hands. He was raising an army of forgotten souls, he was building up a kingdom with corner stones and pebbles. He was reviving his past, and from this day upon which he still breathes, he still is doing so. To the blind that have not seen, to the deaf who have not heard, to the blind and deaf of those who has never witnessed the prowess of a SaiyaJin, he heeded their loss and received it as gain. The memory still fresh in his mind like footprints upon earths of unthreaded territory, this ball of molten lava encircled with dirt was once nothing more than a grain of dust in his eye. Yet another place to purge, to destroy, to leave behind scars, to tempt the virgin hearts, to rouse up enmity, to introduce destruction that a lot resembled his own fate. This grain of dust in his eye, ensnared him, forever embedded into his eye as he saw it everyday, an irritation, a grain of sand in his eye that he could never be able to rid of. Planting his seeds of royalty upon this unruly place of weakness, he felt he was simply prowling, licking his wounds…and soon, perhaps beyond his days of living, but generation after generation, that he may see, he may hear, in his grave, the living stir, the weak cower…that the resounding power of the SaiyaJin will once again echo throughout the universe…just like the low whispers fifty years ago that reached to the corners of the infinite fleets of heaven sky. The fear, the power…SaiyaJin.

                                Agility was never her best strategy, for she was slow compared to their sharper aura, slow compared to their surging blood, slow compared to their mind made for fighting. Embracing her heritage as one-fourth SaiyaJin, she envied those with thicker treads of SaiyaJin blood in their veins. That they could fully grasp its power by willing so, that it was natural like a blinking of an eye. As foundation and foundation of jealousy covered the next, carefully knitting a tight ball of yarn in her heart, the more she craved to become what they were. Golden warriors. Fearless, invincible. At his foot that lashed like a steel chain towards her jaw, she cocked her head to the left and as the momentum ripened in time, swung her right leg across with her heel firmly aligned with her opponent's eye. A curse as her heel swung down at the last moment, skirting from eye down. He slunk away and managed to escape the narrow and dirty kick aimed for his face. Low growl emitted from his throat, propelling his body forward, closing in the distance, sadistic grin across his face, he brought up his right arm and swiftly slid it down, elbow first, retaliate. Her forearm as a reflex, soared up and met his elbow, stilling it an inch from her face as she brought her knee up, taking full advantage to his closeness, and aimed skilfully at his navel. His palm came up and blocked the flying knee as he pushed her and with her weight, pushed himself away, gathering his strategy again while putting distance between them. She taunted him with her half smile, the look in her eyes, sizing him as she levitated in the air like a bird. "Are you afraid?" She asked him, her voice a tone of reproach as she cocked her head arrogantly to the side and looked down upon him with her mighty pride. A dry chuckle, hearty and tenor as he swiped his thumb across his nose, eyes a roguish glare. "In your dreams, Pan." He spat out and with that, the mighty aura of indigo coursing through his veins ignited into an awesome light that matched that of a star. In a moment's notice, the confines of his body shifted with the particles of the atmosphere, residing in thin vertical lines of black that sauntered in the air again, then vanished. She shifted her head, lend an ear as if she could hear his movement when in reality, he was silent and perfect. Sensed around for his energy, for his presence. Above, his foot reappeared, the pointed boot, sailing rapidly down at her shoulder. She bent back and watched as his foot slid across her face. Her fingers locked around his ankle as she released a cackle of joy at his fatal mistake. Leaning back with her centre gravity aligned with…the centre, she spun around, gathering momentum, faster and faster. He soon lost vision of his direction and once she released his ankle, watched him skirted across the sky and downwards like a shooting star. He flailed aimlessly downwards and once impact, crumbled the rocks as if they were crackers. Debris scattered as the weight of his body and force pushed down upon the earth, creating a crater the diameter of a metre around his body frame. Looking smugly down at her success, she took no time and descended quickly by stopping all propels and simply let gravity take its toll. As she neared the ground, the patchy green land mixed with stones and boulders, rolling over head first, with an out cry, flames darted from her flesh in an exciting escapade of auras. Her right arm drawn back with her fingers locked tightly into a fist, darting down fast upon his battered body, drawing her arm back an inch more just for the pain of it, then a second before connection with him, saw him faze out of picture. Unable to halt, she landed into the crater, deepening the opening of the earth and finally turned back to her feet where she pushed herself back up into the air again.

                                He studied their movements down upon the ground, smirked at each of their own techniques, which they had taught themselves but also withdrew from others. In his heart, he knew who was the better fighter in physical strength, but in his mind, he knew the better fighter by heart would be Pan. She never held back, sadly though, most times, others did. Her strive to reach for the stars was anything but meaningless. How far she tried to reach, and as much as he would love to see her strive further, he knew she had reached her limit. She was vicious, in which he supposed was due to her inner conflict of not being able to become a golden warrior. Her hand to hand skills, her combinations, he was proud. Yet, like she knew, and he knew as well, she lacked agility. As his arms rose up to the usual fold across his plated chest, his eyes following their shadows and tails, he wondered how unstoppable Pan would have been if she had more of the SaiyaJin blood flowing in her. One of his most treasured pieces, he never held back at teaching her and she never stopped ringing for more. Deep within the safety of his mind, he wished that Pan could succeed…someday, somehow…

                                "Otousan!" Time had strung by faster than notes in a song, racing up to her father, she linked her arm and hooked it around his. Seemingly, she was the only one who could or who knew how to break his stance. Clinging onto his arm, she looked up at the blurs in the sky and frowned. "Are they at it again?" She asked out of irritation. A grunt came as his reply and as intelligent as she, could register the difference of his tone into a yes or a no. "Well, dinner's ready." She announced rather loudly, hoping that the warriors in the sky could hear her. He looked to the young girl clinging to his arm, a resemblance of his wife. The irregular coloured hair to the attitude of the woman he sometimes could live without. Yet, he did not push the girl away, did not cringe when she started screaming for the two in the air to stop fighting and eat. He simply stood there, as the father with his daughter clinging to his arm, stood there as his daughter cried at the top of her lungs, and still stood as she started jumping.

                                He eyed the ground at the bright blue and red figure jumping up and down on the ground. Distracted, her heel came slicing diagonally across his face, skit from cheekbone all the way down to his chest. He growled at it and threw his arms up, "It's dinner time!" She didn't seem to hear as she continued to fight, steadily lost in her heartbeat. At last, when he finally landed a punch across her face, knocked her back to reality. "This." He cried out as he hooked his arm upwards, his fist still snugly planted on her face. "Is for kicking my face!" From the impact of the punch, her body winded, flew across the sky and away. Managed to stop herself, and then rub her right cheek, she slowly came down onto the ground with bruises and soars in unimaginable places that she never thought he connected with. As Bra released herself from Vejita and ran to her friend, started complaining, Pan simply smiled to herself in satisfaction, for she had done well tonight…

                                Known them for all her life, and yet she is still amazed. She watched them eat, stuffing food into their faces, famished. She wondered how they could just swallow…and not chew…like a duck. How they could devour a whole turkey in one minute and still be hungry. One of the pros of having little SaiyaJin blood…she could eat with manners…and not eat more food in one year than the entire nation of the country in three years. As rice and noodles flied everywhere, managed to get in her hair while Bra hid beneath her umbrella, which Bulma finally authorized at the dinner table since their eating habits got worse, Bra complained again. "Trunks is spitting at me!" She wailed. Bulma drew her plate up and moved it away from the shower of food, "I don't think he does it intentionally, hon." She assured him, for Trunks was probably too hungry to annoy his younger sister.
Pan poked at her rice with her chopsticks and then cracked her jaw. "Oh that is so sick, Pan!" Bra cringed at the clicking sound of her jaw as she moved it with her hand. "Eh, blame it on Trunks, he punched me…" She rubbed it and hoped that the bruise would heal by the next day.

"Eh but you-"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Bulma said while she covered her face and tried to shield it from the spraying rice. He swallowed and then said, "You kicked my face first even after we were supposed to stop! And I think you got my eye…"
She stuck out her tongue at it and started eating when Trunks went for the pork chop. "It's mine!" Trunks said and snatched it away before Pan could sink her teeth into it. Pouting, she settled for the chicken while Bra ate her bread, still hiding underneath her umbrella. Bulma read her book, oblivious to their childish behaviours. As she brushed rice into her mouth with the black chopsticks, she looked at him in awe…at his roguish beauty…and how he still manages to look incredible while trying to suck the meat out of a crab leg. With a silent sigh, she ate her plain rice but flavoured with bits of obsession and thought within the corrupted confines of her mind what he would be like with longer hair.