To be a Warrior

by Sassy Swift

Marron had thought that being a fighter was a waste of time, energy, and life. But when her father dies, she feels guilty since she thought she could have saved him if she was a warrior. Ever since, she has been wanting to be a warrior. Maybe a lavender-haired good friend of hers can help her with her longing to fight. (This is also a Trunks and Marron romance story).

2. A Friend in Need

I do not own DB/Z/GT/Kai or anything related. I just own my ideas and characters that are not from DB/Z/GT/Kai.
This is Chapter 2! Enjoy!

To be a Warrior

_Chapter 2_

A Friend in Need

Mother always said that fighting was not a waste of time. She said people benefited from learning to defend themselves and learning how to fight. I said otherwise. It's the other way around now that Father is dead. Mother's changed her thoughts and views on things, including life. Things have really changed now. I needed to get out of the house.

I asked to go to the Briefs for a while. By a while, I meant for the rest of my life. Of course I didn't tell Mother this. I needed to escape from this dark, depression filled house that held nothing but ancient memories that flood our minds and torment us into remembering the past. The Briefs household had a more cheerful and happy atmosphere. Luckily, Mother let me go. I glanced back at her before I left. I figured it was the last time I was going to see her so I snuck one last glance for me to always remember. It was not an image I wanted to picture in my head every time I remembered Mother. Her in her room wearing her worst and most dark clothing in bed holding her old clothes she wore as a young fighter, mumbling about the past and the times she first met my father, and also clutching to whatever she sees that displays a picture of Father or something that belonged to him while sobbing hysterically. This is how I would remember my mother? I suppose because for a while now I can't picture her in any other way.

Finally. West City. The Briefs household. I was standing on the front steps. This felt oddly strange. It's been months since I've visited the Briefs. Last time I visited was when Father was still alive the day of his death. It seemed an eternity passed since that day when in reality it was not too long ago.

I sighed and forced myself to knock on the door. I heard footsteps. Then the door opened. The smile on the face I wanted to see appeared on the boy's face as he opened the door. But the moment he saw the suitcase in my hand, his smile faded, his eyes were full of sympathy, and he allowed me in the house without hesitation.