The Battle for Dragon World

A Fanfiction by Moonlit Memories

A.K.A. C.C. Jusino

Chapter One:

Survivors

Disclaimer Applies

Claimer Applies

The wind rustled by his ears, pulled at his clothes. It even bit at his skin, but he reveled in it. He twirled and dipped, rose and fell with the currents of the wind as he zipped over small town.

The world below him was spread out in a vast expanse of remains and nature. The once perfect, stone streets, wooden homes, and few, concrete buildings were no more than shadows of what they had once been. They were covered in greenery now: bushes and ferns, trees and grass. Nature poked out of every crack, and every window. Even the few skeletal remains held a romantic hum of nature as the weeds over took them in a process far greater than even himself.

Trunks Briefs slowed his wingless flight and let gravity pull him back to earth. His feet were soundless as the met the grass covered path. His hair gently lulled left and right around the battle hard features of his face.

It was nearly a year since the Androids and Cell were demolished by his own hands. A quiet year of peace and prosperity. West City slowly came into its old luster as the time passed and, with the help of Capsule Corporations, several new hospitals were opened, as well as, homes and orphanages. Slowly the world's populace returned, and though the shadow of the traumas still lingered in places like these, the people no longer had reason to hide or stay awake at night. That included himself.

Of course, that did not mean that all was well. Since the attack Trunks took it upon himself to patrol the major Cities and find survivors in the small ones. He took the ones he could find back to to his home where his mother and a small team of volunteers provided them with new homes and jobs within the city. This current free-flying trip was just one of many Trunks made within the week.

Trunks looked to the sky and noted the suns position and the weather. It seemed that rain was on the horizon, he could almost smell it. As he reminded himself to let his mother know of such conditions, he began his slow search of the small, abandoned town. He searched the basements, what homes still stood, and any hole and ditch he could find. He listened for sound of whispers or breathing. He searched out the energy.

It took nearly an hour before he felt anything at all. It was no more then a small hump in his mental gage, but it was something. Thus, he followed as instinct deemed. He weaved his way between two brick, house frames, and towards the growing tree line just beyond the town. There a small, worn path was present. It disappeared into the thickness of the forest. He followed it.

His foot falls began to sound heavy against the grassy ground; they echoed within his body.

The hump slowly became a medium bump the further he went. It was not long before it was a descent, by normal standards, spike. It came from a large tree that stood tall and motionless amongst several other smaller ones. At its base the roots rose upwards, and tore up from the earth to form a large burrow within the trees bowels. From it came the softest of whimpers.

Trunks started towards the burrow when, from his left, a rock flew at him. He could have caught it, but instead he let it bounce off his skull. As he turned to look at where it came from, a voice shouted from the safety of a nearby tree.

"You get away from there!" a boy, perhaps no older than thirteen, shouted. "Or you'll be sorry!"

"Yeah! You'll be sorry!" a second voice chimed from the same place, this one a girl's, possibly younger.

"Hey," Trunks offered with a gentle smile ( something he learned to master over the last few months), "I'm not hear to cause any trouble."

"If that's so, then get lost!" the boy replied.

The two children finally stepped into view. Both were laden down with rocks and branches, and both looked half starved and covered in dirt. The boy was tall, and a bit skinny, with stringy, black hair, and the dark complexion that was common for the region. The girl, a bit lighter in color (though not much), stood just behind him. Her button nose scrunched in defiance, and her equally stringy, black hair pulled into a loose braid that fell to her tail bone.

That is when he heard it. From within the burrow, no from just to the right of him, the softest giggle. Immediately the boy looked very angry and immediately started to shout.

"No Rosy!" the little girl shouted, "You're supposed to stay hidden!"

Rosy was a small girl, no older than three, that stared up at him from the burrow. A grubby finger was popped into her mouth, and the rather expensive white dress she wore was laced with gold, and covered in dirt and , what appeared to be, blood stains. Bright pink hair adorned her head and was pulled into two small cones with a curly tail extending out, only a few inches, from them. Her eyes were large and crimson, and upon her brow was the oddest birth mark he head ever seen. A pale yellow crescent mood laying on its arch. Milky, white skin beneath all the grime was what finished her distraught, but royal, appearance.

"Hello," Trunks offered the child that looked up at him with a smile. He knelt down to the ground and smiled. "Aren't you a cute little thing."

The girl smiled back at him which made her face glow. Slowly, she leaned toward hims, as if fascinated by his hair before she suddenly sneezed: into his face.

The siblings, Trunks determined, that stayed a safe distance away gasped in surprise. They were sure he was upset at the new spittle that dotted his face. Instead, to their surprise, he only laughed and wiped his face clean with the sleeve of his purple jacket. The little girl laughed as well before she jumped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and tug at his hair.

His hands scooped her up at her nonverbal request and he returned to his full height. He peered at the two other children. With a smile he pointed to the sky.

"So who wants a nice bed to sleep in tonight?" he offered as he jutted his thumb towards the sky.

The two children glanced at each other before a simultaneous decision was made. They were not stupid after all. They were hungry, alone, and very much in need of some security. A security that their youngest friend decided to receive from the strange, lavender-haired stranger before them.

"We do!" the two shouted.

They dropped their weapons, and ran to the man They introduced themselves as he lifted them easily ( one in his free arm, and the other on his back). Then the quartet headed back towards Capsule Corporations. The mode of transportation was the biggest conversational piece during the entire trip.

"Don't you think it's a little odd?" Bulma briefs inquired some four hours later as she folded another small shirt, "those kids I mean."

As usual, when children were involved, Bulma fretted over the three new guests her son brought home. She worried over their appearances, health, and their skinny bodies. She did a full physical on all three before she sat them down and nearly shoved a saiyan's meal before them.

The two older children, which were clothed in some of Trunks old clothes, were down right frightened of the blue-hair genius, while the youngest only giggled in delight as she continuously reached for the woman's hair and repeated the worlds Am-ee Chan.

Trunks assumed it was something to do with the color.

The three children, now seated at the table, finished the last of what they could eat. Well, two of the three. The babe was still at it, and this quirked the demi-saiyan's curiosity a hint.

He seated himself at the table, while his mother cleaned off the prep counter. He smiled at the two older children: Dreven and Lyla Fringe.

"So, how long were you three out there by yourselves?" He inquired.

"A few months," Dreven answered. "Our mother passed away from sickness and everyone else was either gone or dead."

"Since then we've been on our own," Lyla added as she scrapped the last bit of steak into her mouth.

"Must have been hard," Trunks offered sympathetically.

"Not really," Lyla replied. "We found berries in the forest, and there was still some canned goods in some of the old houses that weren't bad."

"And what about Rosy, she's not your little sister right?"

"Oh no,"Lyla offered, "we don't know who she is. We found her a couple of weeks ago crying in the middle of our town. She was a real mess. All covered in blood and stuff."

"Blood?" Bulma's paused. "Covered in it?"

The scientist new the substance she could not scrub from the youngest child's dress was possibly just that, but she hoped not. It was not a comfortable thought to think that someone so young was exposed to such a sight.

"Yeah," Dreven confirmed. "Before then we never saw her."

"So she isn't from your town at all?" Trunks asked as he eyed the pink-haired girl. She appeared to be drowning in a large t-shirt that once belonged to him when he was four.

"Nope, doesn't even speak our language," Lyla pointed out. "She keeps speaking all this gibberish and then slips into that baby talk of hers. It's really annoying if you ask me."

Lyla scrunched her nose at the thought and then added: "And she cries a lot at night, always points at the sky and keeps saying 'getsu' ".

"So why do you call her Rosy, " Bulma asked as the picked up the empty plates.

"Well look at her, she's always so, pink."

At this Bulma and Trunks chuckled.

Afterwards the children helped place the dishes in the sink and Trunks took up the cleaning of them. It was at this time Bulma explained to the children that she would take them to the orphanage in town where they would be taken care of, and be given to a new family who would treat them as their own children.

Immediately Dreven disliked the idea, his sister soon followed. Rosy, however, ignored everything as she happily tugged and played with Bulma's hair, oblivious to the world around her. An hour later, the children were tucked into the guest bedroom (one of four, not including the ones actually in the Corporations business floors).

Bulma returned to the living room where her son now sat and scratched his lavender hair. His head was lulled back and his brows were furrowed in thought. Concentration lines creased his face, which left the twenty-three year old with a far more serious look Bulma disliked.

"Do you think she's just from some foreign land to the north?" Trunks asked without a glance to his mother.

Bulma shrugged slightly before she too sunk onto the couch next to him. She placed a hand upon his knee and gave it a small squeeze. She then said truthfully:

"I honestly don't know of any people anywhere on this planet with as strange a marking as that girl's."

"It could just be a birth mark," Trunks said.

"A yellow birth mark, so flawlessly shaped?" Bulma criticized. "I doubt that much."

"So what? You think she's some lost, alien child?"

"Well she wouldn't be the first," Bulma pointed out. A fond memory of a certain Saiyan Hero popped into her mind, as did her son's. "Though I doubt she got dropped on her head and forgot her plan to destroy the planet."

The two chuckled softly. Bulma then sighed and rested her head upon her son's shoulder. Her own brows furrowed which made her worry lines even deeper upon her face.

"However, if she is an Alien child, someone from her planet is bound to come for her," she pointed out.

"Do you think it's a good idea to take her to the orphanage then?"

"I think, I should confirm her alien origin before we decide anything."

"Right."

Down the hall, within the closed bedroom with her two companions, she listened. Listened to the soft whispers of these strange people language. Restless, she climbed from the large bed,where she was squeezed between the brother and sister, and landed with a thump on the floor. Her bare feet started across the floor to the large window just out of her reach. She stepped into the dark patch of the floor where light should have bled through, and felt the first pinch of familiar heart ache as she looked at the star lit sky. No great big shinning white orb hung in the sky to sooth her little mind. Nothing of the sort to remind her of her mother and home, and no great crystal castle reflecting its light. All she had was the large crystal left to her little hands, which dangled from a small chain, beneath the very large shirt.

It was not long before her piercing wail riped into the night. Her cry filled the room, and then the hall, and as per usual Lyla groaned and Dreven sighed. They would get no sleep this night, even in the safety of a great house, in a great bed, under great sheets.

The next morning came all to soon for the three children who were woken at a painful 6:30 a.m. They sat for breakfast after their old clothes were returned to them, repaired and refreshed. They groggily ate, though still full from their meal last night, and made no attempt at conversation. After breakfast they washed up and gathered what meager belongings they were allowed to keep from their visit to the Briefs's Home. Lyla and Dreven piled into the back of Bulma's small car and were gone soon after.

Trunks stood on the front porch with Rosy stood atop his shoulders. She waved with one of her pudgy hands, while the other tangled itself into his hair to keep her balance, until neither could see the vehicle anymore. Then, with a small sigh, she slumped until her little chin rested on his head.

Trunks's blue eyes rolled up to view the child the best he could. When he saw her little depressed face, one that held much more understanding than any three year old should have, he could not help but feel a little sad himself. He pulled her down and held her out before him at arm's reach.

"Don't be so sad," he said, "they are going to be just fine, and so are you Rosy."

"Usagi," she responded. Her frown grew a little more. "Watashi-no namae-wa Usagi."

Trunks tilted his head in confusion. She used that phrase often yesterday whenever someone called her Rosy. He did not understand what she meant by it however. Whatever it was, he could not help but feel as though he was being corrected on something. Alas, he did not speak her language and could only shrug at her helplessly.

"I wish I could understand you, really I do."

He placed her back onto her feet and held the front door open for her. Inside he moved to the couch where he flipped on the television and plopped onto it. Rosy followed in suit, though she had a little more trouble with the climbing onto the couch bit. Soon she was snuggled up to his side, thumb in mouth, and eyes closed. It was clear she was not a morning person, nor would be any time in the future.

Alas, in the heavens above, aboard and space ship that was still a light year away, someone felt the small child's loneliness. Felt it with all its power to the core, for she too felt the same loneliness as it ate at her soul, as the memories ate at her mind.

The burning never faded though the bugs were evicted from her body. Instead it remained beneath her flesh and gnawed at her bones. Her body, thankfully, became numb to the pain. Instead, its mere presence, was no more than a pinprick against the burning rage within her soul. It was a flame that grew with every sickening minute she spent in that dark room. Ever since they told her the news of their trickery.

Suddenly light filled the room, encompassed it, but she did not close her eyes. She glared at the lithe body that entered the room. The very site of him fueled her anger even more. His charming smile, his twinkling blue eyes, his perfect face. All of it, she wanted to rip it all open with her bare hands and watch his blood stain these floors as hers did, and so many others.

Traitor. It was the only thought that could describe him accurately.

"I see you've recovered well enough," he said. He stood only a few feet from her.

When she did not reply he continued.

"My navigator thinks we can arrive at this Dragon World within the year, possibly sooner. Then it's all a matter of finding her, which I'm sure will not be too difficult."

"If you even breath on her I will kill you," she hissed.

"Oh my," he knelt to be eye level with her, "that is a mighty big threat coming from a half starved, helpless, little girl."

"I may be half starved, and I maybe little," she growled, the power tingled behind her eyes, "but I am hardly helpless."

"Is that so?"

It was not the smartest move in the world for no matter how angry she was, and how much she denied her body's condition, it did have drastic effects on her ability to manipulate her powers, powers that took years upon years for her even to tap into.

The energy blast her mind created could have knocked off the man's despicable head. However, her vision was obscured by the swelling of her face. This made her aim off rather drastically, and her body's protest to the strain she put on in the process made her focus anything but exceptional. The end result was a large hole nearly three feet to the left of where he stood, and a very exhausted and spent her. Not to mention the fact that he was none to happy to know she harbored such powers.

"I see you still need some breaking done," he growled.

The two guards that now stood within the room were given specific instruction in a language she could not grasp. Once he was out of the room, the pain began. She was cut down from the pole. Then beat soon after, by there clubs and greasy fists. When she could no longer move, they abused and used her in other ways, which they only did when she really pissed their 'oh-so-great' leader off. Afterwards, however, they did not bind her back up. Instead they called in some assistance. They injected her with a strange medicine that kept her conscious, and then they displayed the spikes, the hammers.

It was clear that her punishment and torture had only just begun.

To Be Continued...

Preview Of Chapter Two:

Suddenly the girl was off like a bolt. She ran fast than any child should have, straight for the trees. All the while screaming in pure and utter fear that sent a cold chill worse than that of the Asteroid's down his body, and made his blood boil with angry.

"Rosy!" Bulma was already calling after the girl, chasing her small foot print into the grassy tree line.

Trunks followed as well, abandoning their picnic site. When they found her, some five minutes later, she was curled into a tight little ball crying into her knees beneath a uprooted tree. A single word continued to mutter from her lips repeatedly.

"Youma. Youma..."

Dear Readers,

Okay, so first off. Miguelnuva: Thanks for the vote on who the romance revolves around.

However, like I said before, romance is not the focus of this story. If one happens

to develop, I'll be sure to keep your vote in mind.

Okay, so onto other news. I didn't really like this chapter all too much, more or less the last bit. I don't know. Something about it just irked me. Ah well. Here it is anyway. Hope you enjoy!