Kakkhan: Immortal Saiyan Z-fighter

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball/Z/GT, but I do own everything else. Ha!

Chapter Two: Damaged

He strode with light feet through the brightly lit and brightly-decorated corridor towards his destination. He likely would have stood out as a giant did amongst Lilliputians had he not settled the itchy feeling of a glamour around his face. He now looked like any other guardsman of the Fay: A thin, swarthy face, lake-blue eyes, and feathered tips of the ears to add the truly exotic touch. He didn't have wings, but the Fay that guarded the High Councilor to the King, Philemon, didn't have wings either.

The length of the corridor disappeared swiftly under the soles of his feet; the door he was supposed to safeguard in the place of the sentinel who'd mysteriously fallen ill a half-hour before, appeared. Nodding the traditional Fay salute to the guard on the other side, he settled into the position where Fate had determined that this mission would begin.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as one of Philemon's magicians—half-Fay, half-Dwarf—disappeared into the shadows.

"Magicians," muttered the other guard in disgust, though his dark blue eyes did not move from their fixed position. Though he was young, the guard had clearly been raised properly in the distaste the Fay had for those who used their sorceries not for worshippers but for profit. Kakkhanadori titled his head forward almost unnoticeably.

"Half-breed to boot," he murmured. He was unsurprised to hear his voice sound entirely unrecognizable. It wasn't as deep as he was used to and it had a slight lilt, as if it were better used to singing. Just like any Fay's.

The guard snorted soundlessly. If there was a disgust that the Fay held higher than for magicians, it was the disgust for half-breeds. Nothing good ever came of a cross between a Fay and another species—not even those who could settle into Fay society comfortably. Disasters that had occurred in the past because of the presence of half-Fays—they did not lend themselves well to the formation of favorable feelings toward the genetic misfits.

It was this revulsion he had used to reach his current location, standing guard before the doors of the very Fay he was sent to kill.

As usual, Lady Fate had excellent timing. He had not stood long before a little bell rang—he Knew it was the signal to the guardsmen to open the doors. He Knew, too, that Philemon would be out first, so he readied himself even as he reached for the door in simultaneous movement with the other sentry.

The doors opened, and his target exited, alert and focused, but unafraid. His sharp blue gaze swept past him and out into the corridor, dismissing him—

The Fay died instantly. He slid his blade from where he'd sheathed it above Philemon's ear and darted away, away from the stunned guard on the other side of Philemon's body. The other occupants of the room piled into healthy confusion into the intersection; he was already halfway down the corridor before he heard the clattering footsteps of Fay pursuers—guards all.

Coolly glancing back, he ducked down and rammed the hilt of his katana into the stomach of the nearest attacker. While that Fay dropped, he sliced at another attacker and kicked the flail out of her hands. She attempted to dodge his next blow, but he effectively used her momentum to throw her onto the wazikashi of one of her comrades. She died, gurgling, as her comrade—also female—struggled to withdraw her sword. But he was too busy to watch the breakdown of the two Fay guards. He instead drop-kicked a fourth assailant and set up the grim chase again.

They stopped him a second time when from the opposite end of the corridor swarmed a rather smaller group of guards than the one at his back. He thrust his katana into the leading fighter and tossed him over his shoulder toward his original chasers. They admirably did not recoil, but pressed onto him with bleak resolution, even as the group in front closed in.

He cleared a circle for himself soon enough. Turning to the direction he originally had been traveling in, he noticed more reinforcements were arriving, though they advanced slowly now, more cautiously. Deciding he'd had enough of this, he bent his knees and pushed off—

straight towards the left wall. Instead of running into it, he vaulted himself onto it and nearly onto the ceiling in the process—

He turned his head slightly; his gaze met with that of the young guard who'd shown the prejudice toward magicians, who'd stood with him outside Philemon's door and who had watched helplessly as the High Councilor was summarily dispatched. Helplessness and despair darkened the ocean-blue eyes to purple as the guard stared at him, his twin kukri clutched tightly in their respective hands—he returned the stare with a cool dismissal. The itchy feeling of the glamour settled onto his face again, and he Knew his secondary goal was accomplished.

He could leave this place now, could leave the guard whose role in the future he did not know, only that it was important, and go home. He raced alongside the wall and landed behind his attackers but before the reinforcements, who stilled in their places at the sight of him. He paid them no heed, however, instead brushing past them into the courtyard behind them. As his foes watched, he again bent his knees and shoved off. But he did not fly, however much he wanted to; instead he landed on one building standing at the court edge and bounced off of it towards another. He touched off of this one, too, though he almost cracked through one of the windows with the weight of his landing.

Finally, he ended up on the roof of the tallest building within reach of the courtyard. Here he stopped, looking back. He could see the guards and aristocratic Fay—distinctive in their gaudy coloring next to the more somber guardsmen—milling about, could hear their shouts as they tried to figure out where he'd gone.

Releasing a breath, he passed his hand over his face, removing the glamour—ahh, that was much better. No more itchiness. He attended to his katana, retrieving a clean cloth and wiping the blood away from the steel blade. Finally, he sheathed the sword, the scabbard itself in the obi he wore under his army uniform for such a purpose.

When he looked up, he was no longer standing on the roof of the towering structure he'd last seen. Instead the five purple walls of the Dimension Keeper Headquarters—located within the Basilica Officii—intruded upon his senses. He still held the katana in his obi, but he knew it would soon disappear if its current owner wanted it. No one resided within this section of the Headquarters, for his team of Keepers had already gone home or were still on missions, such as he had been until five minutes ago. He shook his head at the memory.

Exhaustion washed into him as this shift's long duration finally caught up to him. The arrival of those interns from the School of Professions had helped a drastic amount in lightening the load of the Eleventh Dimension's Keepers, but there was only so much green interns could do. Kakkhanadori's shoulders slumped, but tensed as an unexpected pain in his left side made itself known.

This new pain, added to the exhaustion of a long day, and the heavy knowledge that he had killed more people today—he gritted his teeth. He would not disgrace himself by falling down into a heap and passing out. He would go to the Healers, have them check over the pain in his ribs (it was not a good idea to let pain caused by a mission to go unattended, even a minor one—which this one was not), and do whatever was required of him to heal. Then he would walk out of the Hospital, out of the Market, and trust the City to get him home. There he would find the couch in the living room, collapse upon it, and do nothing else but sleep for the rest of the day.

He wouldn't get all this done if he didn't pick up his feet and move. Grimly, he carefully clamped his arm to his side, hoping to anchor whatever was paining him, and headed for a portal that would take him out of the Basilica. He was grateful for the fact that portals were not jostling rides, nor did they last long, for he was out and approaching the nearby Hospital within three seconds.

On the way to the Hospital, he spotted Tenna Athenike and Catherine Watanabe in the Market, walking in his direction with shopping bags clutched in their hands. Both of their expressions were animated—even shy Catherine had brightened up after a month in Tenna's company. It was Tenna who saw him first, her countenance breaking into a large smile upon seeing him. Catherine was not far behind in noticing him—not with Tenna's waving movement beside her—but unlike Tenna, she did not smile.

Her face instead adopted its traditional worried appearance, her hair returning to veiling its owner's eyes even as the black eyes peeked up at him worriedly. At least she had progressed from watching the floor to watching his every move with fear and worry whenever he was nearby—he knew the floor was about as interesting as peeling wallpaper.

It was still annoying, though.

Grimacing, he held back the surge of his light core at that thought. Today just was not his day, he mused in exasperation as he forced the source of his light ki back to its dark cage. He distantly perceived Catherine's eyes widen, but he was too tired, too pained, and too plain upset to much care.

Instead he shook his head minutely at Tenna, who instantly stopped and pretended he didn't exist. Rather, she seized the bewildered Catherine by the arm and bodily pulled her away, despite Catherine's obvious confusion and worry. Shaking his head more fully, partly in gratitude, partly in exasperation, he continued on to the Hospital.

Within, an attendant was waiting for him as per the Foreknowledge that almost all Residents of the City possessed. Very quickly, Kakkhanadori had been sat down in one of the many rooms the Hospital offered and was being examined by Healer Geretsky, who pronounced his injury as 'fresh' and 'in need of stitches.' Though almost dizzy from pain, Kakkhanadori nevertheless understood and nodded his consent to Geretsky's unasked question. The Healer grinned, showing his elongated canines, said, 'I knew there was a reason I liked working with you DK types,' and promptly dived onto Kakkhanadori's wound.

The Legendary Lord didn't feel a thing a minute later.

:-:-:-:

Minutes later, he was vertical again and feeling much better. Whatever the Vampire Geretsky had done to him had helped tremendously in reducing the pain, and where he suspected the injury had been, there was naught but a shadowed bruise. It didn't even hurt when he lightly touched it.

'Careful now with that,' Geretsky's accented voice admonished him. Kakkhanadori looked up at his Healer and nodded. Geretsky's fanged smile was much more relaxed, as well as existing in a face much less pasty and pinched. 'I must say, I thank you for allowing me to feed on your wound; your blood is quite refreshing.'

'As I can see, Healer,' Kakkhanadori responded neutrally. Geretsky nodded, pleased by the Legend's reaction, and clapped his hands briskly.

'Other than the slash at your ribs that you came in with, you have no other injuries. You may leave, if you wish, but I'll want a visit from you tomorrow to make sure that the cut has healed properly. Stop by the reception and make an appointment for that, and fill out the survey about your visit that one of the nurses gives you to bring in tomorrow, as well.

'I'm afraid that this is a required survey, Legendary,' he slyly smiled at the hint of disgust on the Immortal's face, 'so don't come in without it!'

When the Vampire had departed and blessed silence had pervaded the quaint hospital room, Kakkhanadori shook his head. He was not donating any of his blood for this Healer ever again if this was the result. He received enough hyperactivity between Tenna and Ilowe, thank you very much.

Shrugging on his overcoat and buttoning it—he was too ready to get out of here to take the time to put on his shirt again—he made ready to leave. He had just spotted the oddly-designed reception desk when a sense of being watched caused him to look around instead of advance. He caught the eyes of Catherine Watanabe with puzzlement, especially at the relief she evinced upon seeing him.

When he stared too long, she swung her gaze again away; her body drooped and her hands fidgeted nervously in the lap they lay in. He sighed and, returning to the reception desk, made the necessary appointment, took the mandatory survey. He was not entirely happy that he'd have to cut part of tomorrow's shift to make this appointment, but as no Foreknowledge had said he shouldn't take the time that was offered to him, he hadn't refused it. Still, he didn't really want to dump his workload onto the already heavy plates of his fellow colleagues...

"Are you all right?" brought him out of his reverie. Catherine had gathered up her courage to speak to him again, but carefully avoided his eyes when he glanced over at her. Kakkhanadori was puzzled as to why the Human would ask, but he answered the question anyway.

'Yes,' he said, tucking the survey into his pocket where he was sure to forget it until tomorrow. His tone nevertheless must have held a question within its depths, for Catherine rushed to explain.

"I was worried about you," she said (in Earthling, he noted absently); her tone indicated that she was still worried. Likely it was because of him this time, not about him. "You looked so closed off, and your ki core—it was so damaged. I—"

'You saw my ki core?' The question came out sharper than, subconsciously, he intended it to. Catherine flinched.

'Only for a moment or two,' she said defensively, slipping into Demonic in the process. 'But it looked like it was in really bad shape, and—' She abruptly took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry for intruding,' she said, instead of continuing, and deflated.

Kakkhanadori regarded the slim and short figure standing beside him in the halls of the hospital even despite her obvious fear of him. He did not like the fact that she had seen his core—that was no one's business but his own—and he liked it even less that she had passed judgment on it by citing it as "damaged".

It was not damaged, his core—he could draw ki from it easily enough, and he was still able to fight just as if he had not had his Super Saiyan powers converted to light during that incident five years ago. If his ki center truly was "damaged," than he wouldn't have been able to function as he normally did.

Dismissing this issue out of hand, Kakkhanadori still found Catherine's anxiety for him surprising. Touching, yes, but it was inconsistent with her behavior toward him thus far. Nevertheless, questioning the Human too closely on her motives was not only rude, but—it was counterproductive. He made Catherine uncomfortable enough. No need to add an interrogation into the mix.

Instead he murmured a belated, 'Thank you for your concern. I'm fine.' He sensed movement beside him, but he didn't look around at it. In fact, that was a good idea. Clearly his eyes were what troubled Catherine the most; he told himself to avoid her eyes whenever they shared the same space, but to behave naturally in every other aspect, such as conversation. Perhaps that would ease some of the Earthling's discomfort.

While he had been ruminating, Catherine had asked, timidly, 'Are you sure?' He wondered again at her motives for asking. Any other City Resident would have taken his answer for what it was and left him alone. Why, then, was Catherine so concerned?

His tone, when he answered, was its normal neutral. 'Yes.' He added, upon reaching the entrance of the Hospital at last, 'I'll escort you to the Café if you wish me to.'

'Oh,' Catherine said, clearly surprised. 'Thank you, but I'd said I'd meet Tenna at Panfila's.'

'Do you know where that is?' he asked, staring out into the Market into which they'd stepped. Even after a month, the Market could still be confusing.

'Yes,' Catherine said with confidence. 'Finally,' she added with a laugh, though Kakkhanadori sensed the nervousness still in it.

He nodded his head to himself. She would be fine.

'Very well,' he said, bowing slightly in farewell. He turned right, crossing in front of the Vendor who sold books, and allowed the City to carry him away from the Human, whose confusion and bafflement were quite evident to him even without looking at her.

The City dropped him off at the entryway into Gaits Lanaid, where the Dimension Keepers lived, and retreated at his thanks. He walked briskly to his home, enjoying the air, before he found his porch and let himself in behind the distinctly non-Demonic façade of the dwelling he inhabited.

There, in the living room, was the sofa he'd told himself he'd crash on earlier today, when he'd been nearly overwhelmed with pain and fatigue. Now, he felt better, so he opted instead to meditate, eat, then crash. Good thing he'd bought out the Debiathes Cuisinery again two days ago, for he wouldn't have enough energy to think about preparing some food after this meditation. It was time to go someplace in his soul he hadn't gone for a long time.

Frowning lightly, he went through to the back of the living room to the shrine to the Lady beyond it (dropping off his red-stained shirt on the armchair along the way). He strode to the mat in the middle of the room, faced the shrine, arranged himself on top of the mat in proper lotus position, and closed his eyes.

It didn't take him long to find the place he was looking for. Indeed, it came to him almost instantly, horrifyingly familiar and detested: his inner light ki core.

Here was the source of all his ki, both levels of Super Saiyans that he had attained, the Mystic level, and the ever-mysterious Light level he was capable of using. It was this Light level that had helped him defeat the Laniins, what was left of them after the Menrui-darkness was done with them. It was this Light level that had metamorphosed him into the Kakkhan-light creature which had had no goal but to demolish the dark figures of malice threatening him-it-them (and how detachedly he-it-they had!). It was this light core that possessed the ki to transform into this creature.

He had not transformed into the Kakkhan-light again.

Now, as he gazed at the light core that he both despised and needed, he was forced to admit the truth of Catherine Watanabe's assessment. It was damaged; in fact, "damaged" was too mild a term for it. Half-choked by the dark vines latched onto it, the normally whirling globe of light was now still and lifeless, barely registering his presence. The cage was no longer a cage, but instead what appeared at first to be a chrysalis but was actually a thickly-veined tree. The tree's top was the ceiling of his mind (as far as he could tell, anyway), and its roots, monstrous in size, seemed to flex rhythmically. Next to this tree, the blindingly white orb seemed dead, even though it pulsated in tune with the tree of darkness.

Though the image before him should have provoked in him some feeling of pity for the light, it did not. Instead he only felt a vague sort of satisfaction, uneasy though it was. After the battle with the Laniins, he'd promised this light core inside of him that he would do all he could to destroy it; although he hadn't succeeded, he certainly had come close, he thought.

On a whim, he held out his hand. Slowly, he made ki come to the palm of his hand, collecting it unthinkingly into a ball as he was used to. The globe shuddered, seeming to exhale a loud groan as particles of itself separated from it to fly to Kakkhanadori's hand. The dark vines over it squeezed once, tightly, then let go to allow the globe expand as it met his demand for ki.

There, he thought, shaking his hand free of the ki bomb he'd created, It works well enough. No need to do anything here. His eyes flicked over how the vines immediately constricted again over the light, so as not to let it escape. He nodded, satisfied, and turned to go away.

He was still uneasy about how tight those roots were. But as long as he still had the use of his ki, he wouldn't do anything about it. Better to have ki and be in control of his inner core than not to have access to his ki because he'd given in to his unease and tried to do something he didn't know the effects of.

Out of his trance by this time, Kakkhanadori blew out his breath. He would regret his decision one day, he knew. He just couldn't shake the feeling that that day was closer than he thought.

Nothing he could do about that, he shrugged, except meet that day head on and do what he could then. He couldn't worry about it now.

Besides, he had other things to worry about, such as his heavily growling stomach. A check with his internal clock told him hours had passed. Rubbing his stomach lightly, the Immortal slowly unfolded his stiff legs, allowed them to rest a moment before standing on them.

The kitchen was calling.

:-:-:-:

A/n: Yeah. I was going to say something really important here, but...I forgot. Oops.

Just so you guys know, this is going to be a relatively slow-paced fic compared to the first two Kakkhans. Where Kakkhan I covered eleven years and Kakkhan II covered six, so far in about thirteen chapters approximately a single year has been written. There are also homosexual people coming up in a few chapters, but they don't do anything other than have the label of "homosexual". No shounen ai, yaoi, slash, explicit femme slash, or yuri in here. There may be some femme slash if you "squint", but you're likely to ruin your eyes if you try that.

If this concept puts you off, don't worry—I'll be posting summaries of the relevant chapter sections so that you basically know what's going on, but don't have to read it yourself. So don't let that stop you from reading this story—only two chapters have them mentioned, anyway, at least so far. We'll have to see.

Savvy about that? Good. I hope you enjoyed this chapter; whether or not you did, however, does not mean you don't review. I would like some REVIEWS. Yes, them, those things that authors thrive off of. However, I do not want flames; a review criticizing this chapter (or the fic) in polite and reasonable language is welcome.

I am actually encouraging discussion of events in these chapters that you feel are confusing or interesting or totally random—because in fact I write this fic for you guys, not just myself. I would like to talk about my fic in as many ways as possible, not just "Great chapter! Will read the next one!" (sample lpgohanfanatic review :P). Those are great and all, but...

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SNEAK PREVIEW OF: Return

Finally, after about a minute, their eyes settled somewhat where he stood, their orbs wavering uncertainly as they saw nothing. Chokiiro, he noticed, did seem to stare at him in more focus, but he knew better than to chalk this off. Children could always be counted upon to have uncanny perceptions where they shouldn't. He did nothing to halt Chokiiro's gaze, but turned back to the Capsule dome. He ignored, in the process, Goten's whispered, "Kakkhan?"

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Thanks to Lov3the3vil and lpgohanfanatic for reviewing!

Sayonara!

TheShadowPanther and Allati, from AASN

AASN; Writing is what we do for you at AASN. Enjoy.

Updated 09.18.07