~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Events that are predestined require
but little management. They manage themselves.
They slip into place while we sleep, and suddenly we are
aware that the thing we fear to attempt, is
already accomplished." - Amelia Barr
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Six: Jingle Village
Jingle Village consisted of little more than some thirty small assembly-line produced capsule-homes, (the kind with the extra thick insulation) two bunk houses, a general store and tavern. There was no post office. Naked pastures, stripped by cattle and the cold, newly logged lots and stands of old growth forest surrounded the little town.
About a mile from town Raditsu came to the twin bunk houses. Built to hold about fifty people each, they were made of stacked logs, felled on site, with imported cement packed into the spaces between the logs.
The buildings didn`t particularly interest Raditsu; from the smell of it they were empty anyway. But the dozen or so sets of work boots that were piled by the nearest bunk house`s back door, and the clothing -- jackets, flannel shirts, jeans, everything hanging from lines and laying on polished logs to dry caught his attention.
Sneak thievery was above any self-respecting Saiyajin; if a warrior wanted something, he didn`t slink around like some staving vermin slave, he just took it.
Oh, but Raditsu was beyond caring. And wasn`t survival the most important thing anyway?
Of course it is.
So when Raditsu entered the Jingle Village, he was dressed like anyone else. And, so he thought at the time, all set for whatever winter could throw at him.
_____________________________
There was nothing of real importance happening in the town, that Raditsu could see. He walked down the center of the thin, unpaved road, looking at nothing in particular.
In front of one house a man was feeding a group of chained sled dogs chucks of meat from a burlap sack. He tossed a piece to each of the dogs, which were tied far enough apart that they couldn`t fight over the food, while trying to keep his fingers a safe distance from the snapping jaws.
Further down the road, a group of boys, maybe ten, twelve years old were fighting. An old bent woman with no teeth ran over and chased them off her lawn with an equally worn broom, hitting the boys over their heads. They fled toward the setting sun, arms held over their heads defensibly. The old woman turned back to her work, cackling pleasantly to herself as she swept the path to her well-kept capsule home.
There was, Raditsu thought, no sense in trying to understand vermin.
Up ahead were two plank buildings, the biggest ones in the village. Above one of the twin doors, a sign read 'JINGLE GENERAL' in bold, hand-painted block letters; over the other door a similar sign read 'JINGLE TAVERN'.
This time of day the general store was all but vacant, but the bar was jumping with loggers, who having spent the day working in the woods were now eager to spend the credit they`d earned on a night of fun and a drink or two (or a dozen) before turning in.
Raditsu went inside the bar.
_____________________________
Raditsu`s view was briefly obscured by a cloud of blue-gray tobacco smoke. He brushed it away with his hand and squinting in the dull light, moved forward.
There were about seventy lumberjacks in the building, some sitting at the bar, holding loud conversations among themselves and with the barmaid, more at tables, playing cards or rolling dice; all shouting, drinking, laughing.
Few people noticed Raditsu, but the ones that did studied the Saiyajin longer than they might have, noting his long hair and what seemed to be a band of fur warped around his waist, trying to decide if they`d seen him before and if he was trouble. But after a few seconds, all the tavern`s patrons turned back to their games and drinks and friends.
There was a large group of loggers crowded around a table in the far corner, their attention focused on the pair seated at it: two big scruffy looking men. Their hands were locked together across the table, while their elbows rested on a piece of rough cloth. The spectators argued with each other and placed bets with a man who stood at the head of the table while the two opponents glared at each other.
A Saiyajin game, Raditsu obsevered with some wonder. Arm-wrestling; never as much fun as sparring, but the best entertainment you could get when traveling in a fragile ship.
Raditsu took a place by the table as the bookie signaled for the match to begin.
It didn`t last long. The bigger man won easily; his opponent cursed, stood and walked away, trying not to nurse his sore arm. It wasn`t much of a fight, but it was almost Saiyajin. Almost. A Saiyajin arm-wrestling match would have taken place on a reinforced super-plastic table, and normally lasted much longer. Once he`d seen Taresu go at it for five days with an elite fighter, neither of them stopping to eat or sleep; fool had spent almost as much time in a healing tank afterwards. But Raditsu thought this was as close as such weak people could come to something as great as Saiyajin.
The bookie began to shout, interrupting Raditsu`s thoughts. "Gyou wins again! Bring on the next opponent!"
Raditsu took a step toward the empty stool. The bookie, a man who`s build easily matched Raditsu`s, moved into his path. "Five zeni per round, buddy, up front. Them`s the rules at my bar; winner gets thirdly percent of the bets. If you`ve got the money lay it down and play. If you don`t got it, get." Pleased with himself the man smiled, revealing a broken front tooth.
Raditsu`s face darken as he considered this statement: The human was making fun of him, he was sure.
Someone near the door began to clap his hands softly. "How many hours did you spend, trying to come up with that, Kentaro?"
Raditsu turned toward the voice. A youth walked toward them from the front of the bar, his fists now hooked inside the pockets of his blue-jeans. He had a fine, almost fragile looking frame and was wearing a baggy, long sleeved shirt with a large orange bandanna. He hopped onto one of the backless bar stools across from the table and brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes.
"Juunanagou!" Kentaro`s eyes narrowed.
"I`ll cover him," the Jinzoningen said.
"Who?" Kentaro asked.
"The guy who`s standing right next to you, looking like he`s ready to rip your head off.
"Bet he could do it, too," Juunanagou said thoughtfully. Then laughed, very softly.
Kentaro eyed Raditsu warily, decided he could take him if the guy tried anything, and turned his attention back to Juunanagou. "You know him?"
Juunanagou leaned over in his seat, elbows on his knees, his chin resting on one balled fist, mocking serious thought. "Why so many questions?" he said, "I`m your best customer; you should be glad I`m spending my money here." He paused again. "I guess I can go somewhere else..."
"Five zeni a round. Winner gets thirty percent of the bets." Kentaro said quickly before Juunanagou could finish.
"Of course." Juunanagou sounded bore, as though he was already tiring of this game. He took a large coin from his pocket and flipped it to Kentaro.
The human caught it, and moved to the side, clearing Raditsu`s path to the empty stool. Raditsu considered Juunanagou briefly, then dismissed him as just another human and sat down.
Gyou, who had been waiting impatiently offered a hand. Raditsu took it.
"Don`t have too much fun," Juunanagou said from behind Raditsu.
Raditsu turned toward him. "What did you say?"
"The table. Its only wood; be careful not to break it."
The other arm-wrestler snorted, but Kentaro looked alarmed; he`d seen the damage Juunanagou could do to furniture on his low days, if his friend was like that too...
"That table`s worth one hundred zeni--"
"Don`t worry so much," Juunanagou said, irritation starting to work its way into his flat voice, "I have money."
Shrugging, Kentaro took his place by the table and raised his hands with the air of someone who should have been a showman.
"Attention everyone! We`ve got a new opponent for Gyou to crush! Come on over, folks, place your bets!" A few more people joined the small crowd, and some (but not many; any fool knew Gyou was unbeatable) began to pass money toward Kentaro. After a few minutes, he raised his hands again and shout, "Thank you very much! And now," he lowered his eyes to Raditsu and Gyou for emphasis, "the match will being!"
Gyou immediately pushed his arm against Raditsu`s, intent on quick victory. Raditsu stared at the man`s staining face, putting up no real resistance. It wasn`t even a effort to keep his arm at a 90 degree angle, and this was one of their best?
"Just beat him," Juunanagou said impatiently over Raditsu`s shoulder.
Raditsu was willing enough to comply, not because Juunanagou had told him to, but because he wanted the game to be over and done with so he could leave; this whole thing had been foolishness -- a waste of time.
He pushed his opponents hand down lightly, making a conscious effort not to damage the table, or the man`s hand; no reason to start anything that would hinder his leaving. (or get him in trouble, but Raditsu didn`t allow that thought to finish itself.)
"I`ll be damned," Gyou mumbled, looking at his fallen hand dumbfoundly. Gyou stood, bowed pleasantly enough, and joined the spectators.
"My turn," Juunanagou said, jumping up and heading for the empty seat.
"You?" Raditsu said with disbelief; how foolish could this kid be? "No." Raditsu turned to the door, walking quickly. What had he been thinking, anyway? Coming here, consorting with vermin -- Gods help him, he`d actually felt at home with them for a few minutes--
"Saiyajin!"
Raditsu froze, started to turn, caught himself, decided to wait Juunangou out, and held his position. Silents.
After several minutes he gave in and turned to Juunanagou, his arms crossed and all expression covered by a sneer.
Juunanagou was standing beside Gyou`s empty stool, his palms pressed against the table's surface, his eyes blazed and his lips were pressed thin in anger. "Sit down, Saiyajin," he said.
"Who told you--"
"Afterward."
"Maybe I`ll just beat the answer out of you." No answer. Raditsu laughed, mockingly; the best cover for uncertainty. "You can`t win, you know," he said, taking his former seat.
Juunanagou offered his hand -- he had to stretch to reach the big table`s center -- and Raditsu took it.
"Hey!" Kentaro shouted, moving to Juunanagou side and bending over the table so they were eye to eye. "That`s five zeni a piece entry fee, pays thirty--"
The Jinzoningen shot his free hand out and pushed Kentaro. Not hard, very lightly, but with enough force to send him reeling to the ground by the feet of a growing crowd of spectators. He smacked his head on the floor boards and blacked-out.
Two of the lumberjacks hauled Kentaro to the corner and propped him against the wall; fights were commonplace here, a person was considered fine as long was he was breathing and not obviously bleeding to death.
"Are you ready?" Juunanagou said. Raditsu nodded and took his hand.
Juunanagou`s hand was perfectly smooth, but hard; it didn`t have the soft, pliable feel of Gyou`s hand.
Something was wrong.
But instead of stopping to consider the situation, or the facts, he said "Sure," and grabbed Juunanagou`s hand tighter, hopping for a grimace or scream or crunch.
Juunanagou only smiled a little self-assured half smile. "Then begin."
Raditsu had intended to drive his opponent's hand through the table within the first millisecond; That`ll wipe the grin of the little creep's face, but it wasn`t that simple. Juunanagou was losing, his hand slipping toward the mat, but Raditsu was battling for every inch, as if he were fighting a slightly lesser Saiyajin and not just a human.
After I win, Raditsu decided, we`ll have a talk.
Inches from the win; Raditsu gave one last tremendous shove, throwing the muscles in his back behind those of his shoulder and arm.
Juunanagou scowled and with a flip of the wrist and fraction of his power, reversed their positions, so now the Saiyajin -- 'Raditsu', if Gero`s data was correct -- hand hovered just above the table's surface. He gave Raditsu a few seconds, waiting to see if he`d show more power or become Super Saiyajin, then Juunanagou tapped his hand on the mat.
Raditsu withdrew his hand, resisting the urge to rub it. A faint discoloration the shape of Juunanagou`s hand was forming around Raditsu`s palm and wrist. He study Juunanagou once again, much more carefully this time, trying to find some clue to the youth`s origins, and hiding his curiosity and (fear?) uncertainty behind a Saiyajin scowl. "You are not human," was the only conclusion he drew.
Juunanagou seemed to consider this, but instead of answering said, "I could say the same thing about you, Raditsu. You /are/ him, aren`t you? Son Goku`s brother?"
"I am. Although his name is Kakarotto," Raditsu said, a threatening tone in his voice.
Juunanagou was unimpressed. "So I`ve been told."
"By who--"
Juunanagou waved a hand for silence. "Drinks?" He stood and motioned toward the bar.
"Gratefully," Raditsu said, following Juunanagou to the counter.
"Say, Sharri!" Juunanagou called to the bartender, a red-headed, strongly built woman of about thirty-five.
"Hey, Juunanagou! Long time no see," she shouted from the other end of the counter. "What`ve you been doing with yourself?"
"I`ve been busy." Juunanagou changed the subject. "How about a round for me and this foreigner."
"Sure thing!" She drew two mugs from the tap and sat them in front of Raditsu and Juunanagou. "Foreigner, huh?" she said. "Where`s he from, Western Capital? I hear they`re wearing their hair long in Western Capital these days."
"No," Juunanagou said, wrapping his hands around the glass mug. "He`s from Vejiitasei."
"Whatever you say, hon," Sharri said, concern showing faintly on her face. Well, after so many years alone in the woods anyone would be a little off. She moved away to tend other customers.
"It`s true I don`t have much data on you, Saiyajin," he said, not looking at Raditsu. "But I was relatively sure you were dead."
"So was I."
"And...?" Juunanagou said.
Raditsu slammed his fist on the counter in real anger. Even so, there was an element of necessary control that all powerful beings learn early in life: the thick wooden plank shook but didn`t splinter. "'And' what? It doesn`t concern you."
Something dangerous flashed in Juunanagou`s eyes; Raditsu didn`t notice. "That`s true," Juunanagou said indifferently. He finished his drink and signaled for another.
Sharri, knowing Juunanagou`s habits, drew a pitcher from the tap. Juunanagou didn`t come to the bar offend; at most he only showed up twice a year. And she knew enough about such things to be certain he wasn`t an alcoholic; Thank Kami, but when he gets it into his head to drink, he drinks! Sharri had thought at first that he came to socialize, but before tonight he`d never talk to anyone beyond the most necessary amenities.
She sat the pitcher in front of him. Juunanagou didn`t make eye contact; you didn`t have to know how to read minds to know what she was thinking. She shouldn`t bother, I don`t need to deal with it./ Only one person had the right to worry about him /and that bitch is off playing the little wife and mother, and (besides himself) she was the only one Juunanagou wanted to concern himself with.
After Sharri had left he said, more to himself than Raditsu, "They`re not so bad, not all of them, did you know that? But I still don`t understand it."
Juunanagou looked directly at Raditsu. Raditsu didn`t like being stared at, no Saiyajin did; it was an open threat and an insult, but he didn`t allow himself look away.
"Saiyajin, do you know where you are?"
The simpleness of this question caught Raditsu off guard. "I`m on Earth." Gods, if it could have been any other planet. "Obviously," he added, realizing how foolish that sounded. "I have seen maps of the planet, but it was a great many years ago."
Juunanagou seemed to find this amusing. "Yes, of course. But more specifically, you`re in Jingle Village.
"Now, Saiyajin, one type of people come to Jingle Village... willingly, away. Do you know what kind that is?" he lead forward, seeming to wait expectantly for Raditsu`s answer.
Raditsu glared back darkly, debating if he`d been laughed at and what to do about it.
"Relax," Juunanagou, somewhat annoyed. "Try your drink."
Raditsu didn`t mind that idea at all; in fact, he couldn`t remember the last time he`d needed shit-faced more badly. He picked up the mug and took a large swallow. He sat it down quickly, trying not to make a face. Damn vermin piss-water It tasted disgusting and left an awful favor in his mouth; nothing like the good stuff the Saiyajin made.
"Acquired taste, I suppose." Juunanagou picked up the thread of his old topic. "The strong kind of humans live here. This is one of wildest places on Earth; no roads, no electricity except in the few self-powered capsule houses. No more than three-hundred people, counting the lumberjacks, and most of them leave within a year of coming. Only the ones that were born here ever stay, they`re the strongest. Nothing beside a Jinzoningen or Saiyajin, understand, but they do try."
"You say that was though 'trying' could keep me from decimating the whole town within a minute if I decided to." Raditsu changed his mind about his drink.
"Of course it couldn`t," Juunanagou said, "But where would the fun be in that?"
Juunanagou shrugged and re-filled his mug from the pitcher. After an affirmative nod from Raditsu, he filled the Saiyajin`s as well.
"We`re Jinzoningen, Juuhachigou and I. Machines from a human base, understand?"
"Then you`re human," Raditsu said, mildly disappointed and fully disgusted with the situation.
"No," Juunanagou said, voice angry and condescending and soft all at the same time. "Jinzoningen. Jinzoningen are superior to these," he swept his arm out in a gesture encompassing every person in the room, every human on Earth. "In every way; the most remarkable gifts of Jinzoningen being great power and agelessness. Something they`ll never have; I saw to that myself when I killed Gero. We are not human. Much as the bitch would like to pretend."
Something, it seemed to Raditsu, caught the Jinzoningen`s attention suddenly, though he couldn`t say what; Juunanagou`s eyes widened, very slightly, and his head darted toward the left wall. Had the wooded planks not been there Juunanagou would have been looking at the street. He turned back to Raditsu.
"Just wait until you see this guy. He`s a kick -- ten times worse than your
brother -- I swear." He spun his stool around so it faced the door. "Just wait," he repeated.
Raditsu emptied and refilled his glass waiting.
The sturdy pine door opened (no swinging, waist high saloon door this) and a huge man (at least, Raditsu thought it was a man), resembling Frankenstein's monster, sans neckbolts, just distantly enough to avoid copyright litigation, entered the tavern.
"Hachigou," Juunanagou called to him. The man came over, walking with a long wooded gait.
"Juunanagou!" he said in a deadpan, yet friendly voice. He took a long look at the other, slightly drunk Jinzoningen, his glass and the half empty pitcher.
"You`re being bad." Hachan finally concluded, after processing all the clues.
"So? I thought you said I was bad."
"You are," Hachan said agreeably.
"See," Juunanagou said to Raditsu, as though Hachan wasn`t there. "You can`t even talk to him.
"Hachigou`s Jinzoningen too, but he`s all mechanical, no biological base. Very old model; slow processing and low social comprehension, almost no power -- he`s stronger than most humans, of course -- though that`s not saying much.
"Hachigou`s a pacifist," Juunanagou added, in way of conversation. He turned around to fill his mug.
"A what?" Raditsu said, studying his beer intently. Normally he wouldn`t have dreamed of admitting ignorance so easily, especially to a human (and he still wasn`t at all convinced Juunanagou wasn`t human) but now it seemed all right.
"Being a pacifist," Juunanagou said, "means you don`t believe in fighting. Do you, big guy?"
"Hurting people is bad," Hachan intoned confidently.
"See, what did I tell you?" Juunanagou said, much louder than he had been before and well on his way to being fall down drunk. "Tell me, Hachigou, is this guy here," he motioned to Raditsu, "Good or bad?"
Hachan studied Raditsu carefully, starting at the tip of the Saiyajin`s spiky hair and working his way down. Hachan was a very good judge of character, everyone told him so, and he was about to conclude that Raditsu was very bad -- that much showed in his face -- when he came to the brown furry tail swinging behind Raditsu`s chair.
"Hey!" Hachan shouted happily, loud enough to make the glass windows rattle in their panes and a dozen heads snap in the three non-humans` direction. "You have a tail like Son Goku!"
Juunanagou sighed and wondered why he hadn`t seen this coming.
Raditsu`s tail wrapped itself around his waste cautiously. "I do. He`s my brother."
"Really? Are you like him?"
"Now what kind of question is that?" Juunanagou interrupted.
"Well, when I said you and Juhachigou looked just alike but you said you were nothing like her and called her bad names so I wondered if it was like that with everyone`s family-- " Juunanagou`s face had begun to redden angrily, "But repeating that was bad, wasn`t it? I am sorry. I was only trying to understand."
"You can`t understand, you`re incapable of it. Idiot." Juunanagou said, before turning back to his drink. "And I don`t care about that bitch and her midget fetish."
Raditsu had once again drained his mug over the course of this conversation. "No, I`m not at all like him," he said, more for his own benefit than Hachan`s.
"That`s too bad," Hachan said, glad to be talking to some one instead of standing in the uncomfortable silence behind Juunanagou. "Son Goku was very good." Then, as thought to make up for it he said, "My name is Hachan. What`s yours?"
"Since when do you even come here?" Juunanagou said, frustrate at being interrupted. "I thought bars were bad."
"They are," Hachan said, pleased his fellow Jinzoningen finally seeing the light. "I am looking for Kentaro."
"He`s over there," Juunanagou said, pointing to the far end of the room, where Kentaro was still propped against the wall. "Now shoo."
Hachan walked to the man, and bending over him, took Kentaro`s shoulder in his huge mitts, and so gently, shook him.
"They always change their names, don`t they?" Raditsu said after Hachan left for the General Store, steadying Kentaro as they walked. "They change their names then they start acting stupid."
"That one doesn`t matter, anyway."
There was a long stretch of silence, not so much awkward as apathetic. Sharri refilled the pitcher twice, while they starred at the colored rows bottles on shelves behind the bar counter.
"'Midget fetish?" Raditsu said after a while.
"You know the guy, I think. Kuririn. The short one who plays tag-a-long to Son-- Kakarotto."
"Oh, that guy," Raditsu said. "Gods, I wish I`d killed him."
"Ah well, she`ll be back soon anyway. He`s weak like the rest of them, he`ll die. I`m leaving now."
They left the tavern; Juunanagou heading for his cabin and Raditsu for the woods where the lion should have been sleeping.
_____________________________
Animals can`t be expected to understand everything.
The lion had come back to the cave at dusk, hoping to find the Ally.
And when he hadn`t been there, the lion had done the most natural thing in the world, something he`d done dozens of times before; he went looking for Raditsu.
The Ally had taken a wide, well traveled game trail, so the scent was easy to follow. And though it did head in a direction that seemed dangerous for some reason the lion couldn`t quite remember, it seemed to him if the Ally had went that way it must be safe.
No one can be expected to understand everything.
"Events that are predestined require
but little management. They manage themselves.
They slip into place while we sleep, and suddenly we are
aware that the thing we fear to attempt, is
already accomplished." - Amelia Barr
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Six: Jingle Village
Jingle Village consisted of little more than some thirty small assembly-line produced capsule-homes, (the kind with the extra thick insulation) two bunk houses, a general store and tavern. There was no post office. Naked pastures, stripped by cattle and the cold, newly logged lots and stands of old growth forest surrounded the little town.
About a mile from town Raditsu came to the twin bunk houses. Built to hold about fifty people each, they were made of stacked logs, felled on site, with imported cement packed into the spaces between the logs.
The buildings didn`t particularly interest Raditsu; from the smell of it they were empty anyway. But the dozen or so sets of work boots that were piled by the nearest bunk house`s back door, and the clothing -- jackets, flannel shirts, jeans, everything hanging from lines and laying on polished logs to dry caught his attention.
Sneak thievery was above any self-respecting Saiyajin; if a warrior wanted something, he didn`t slink around like some staving vermin slave, he just took it.
Oh, but Raditsu was beyond caring. And wasn`t survival the most important thing anyway?
Of course it is.
So when Raditsu entered the Jingle Village, he was dressed like anyone else. And, so he thought at the time, all set for whatever winter could throw at him.
_____________________________
There was nothing of real importance happening in the town, that Raditsu could see. He walked down the center of the thin, unpaved road, looking at nothing in particular.
In front of one house a man was feeding a group of chained sled dogs chucks of meat from a burlap sack. He tossed a piece to each of the dogs, which were tied far enough apart that they couldn`t fight over the food, while trying to keep his fingers a safe distance from the snapping jaws.
Further down the road, a group of boys, maybe ten, twelve years old were fighting. An old bent woman with no teeth ran over and chased them off her lawn with an equally worn broom, hitting the boys over their heads. They fled toward the setting sun, arms held over their heads defensibly. The old woman turned back to her work, cackling pleasantly to herself as she swept the path to her well-kept capsule home.
There was, Raditsu thought, no sense in trying to understand vermin.
Up ahead were two plank buildings, the biggest ones in the village. Above one of the twin doors, a sign read 'JINGLE GENERAL' in bold, hand-painted block letters; over the other door a similar sign read 'JINGLE TAVERN'.
This time of day the general store was all but vacant, but the bar was jumping with loggers, who having spent the day working in the woods were now eager to spend the credit they`d earned on a night of fun and a drink or two (or a dozen) before turning in.
Raditsu went inside the bar.
_____________________________
Raditsu`s view was briefly obscured by a cloud of blue-gray tobacco smoke. He brushed it away with his hand and squinting in the dull light, moved forward.
There were about seventy lumberjacks in the building, some sitting at the bar, holding loud conversations among themselves and with the barmaid, more at tables, playing cards or rolling dice; all shouting, drinking, laughing.
Few people noticed Raditsu, but the ones that did studied the Saiyajin longer than they might have, noting his long hair and what seemed to be a band of fur warped around his waist, trying to decide if they`d seen him before and if he was trouble. But after a few seconds, all the tavern`s patrons turned back to their games and drinks and friends.
There was a large group of loggers crowded around a table in the far corner, their attention focused on the pair seated at it: two big scruffy looking men. Their hands were locked together across the table, while their elbows rested on a piece of rough cloth. The spectators argued with each other and placed bets with a man who stood at the head of the table while the two opponents glared at each other.
A Saiyajin game, Raditsu obsevered with some wonder. Arm-wrestling; never as much fun as sparring, but the best entertainment you could get when traveling in a fragile ship.
Raditsu took a place by the table as the bookie signaled for the match to begin.
It didn`t last long. The bigger man won easily; his opponent cursed, stood and walked away, trying not to nurse his sore arm. It wasn`t much of a fight, but it was almost Saiyajin. Almost. A Saiyajin arm-wrestling match would have taken place on a reinforced super-plastic table, and normally lasted much longer. Once he`d seen Taresu go at it for five days with an elite fighter, neither of them stopping to eat or sleep; fool had spent almost as much time in a healing tank afterwards. But Raditsu thought this was as close as such weak people could come to something as great as Saiyajin.
The bookie began to shout, interrupting Raditsu`s thoughts. "Gyou wins again! Bring on the next opponent!"
Raditsu took a step toward the empty stool. The bookie, a man who`s build easily matched Raditsu`s, moved into his path. "Five zeni per round, buddy, up front. Them`s the rules at my bar; winner gets thirdly percent of the bets. If you`ve got the money lay it down and play. If you don`t got it, get." Pleased with himself the man smiled, revealing a broken front tooth.
Raditsu`s face darken as he considered this statement: The human was making fun of him, he was sure.
Someone near the door began to clap his hands softly. "How many hours did you spend, trying to come up with that, Kentaro?"
Raditsu turned toward the voice. A youth walked toward them from the front of the bar, his fists now hooked inside the pockets of his blue-jeans. He had a fine, almost fragile looking frame and was wearing a baggy, long sleeved shirt with a large orange bandanna. He hopped onto one of the backless bar stools across from the table and brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes.
"Juunanagou!" Kentaro`s eyes narrowed.
"I`ll cover him," the Jinzoningen said.
"Who?" Kentaro asked.
"The guy who`s standing right next to you, looking like he`s ready to rip your head off.
"Bet he could do it, too," Juunanagou said thoughtfully. Then laughed, very softly.
Kentaro eyed Raditsu warily, decided he could take him if the guy tried anything, and turned his attention back to Juunanagou. "You know him?"
Juunanagou leaned over in his seat, elbows on his knees, his chin resting on one balled fist, mocking serious thought. "Why so many questions?" he said, "I`m your best customer; you should be glad I`m spending my money here." He paused again. "I guess I can go somewhere else..."
"Five zeni a round. Winner gets thirty percent of the bets." Kentaro said quickly before Juunanagou could finish.
"Of course." Juunanagou sounded bore, as though he was already tiring of this game. He took a large coin from his pocket and flipped it to Kentaro.
The human caught it, and moved to the side, clearing Raditsu`s path to the empty stool. Raditsu considered Juunanagou briefly, then dismissed him as just another human and sat down.
Gyou, who had been waiting impatiently offered a hand. Raditsu took it.
"Don`t have too much fun," Juunanagou said from behind Raditsu.
Raditsu turned toward him. "What did you say?"
"The table. Its only wood; be careful not to break it."
The other arm-wrestler snorted, but Kentaro looked alarmed; he`d seen the damage Juunanagou could do to furniture on his low days, if his friend was like that too...
"That table`s worth one hundred zeni--"
"Don`t worry so much," Juunanagou said, irritation starting to work its way into his flat voice, "I have money."
Shrugging, Kentaro took his place by the table and raised his hands with the air of someone who should have been a showman.
"Attention everyone! We`ve got a new opponent for Gyou to crush! Come on over, folks, place your bets!" A few more people joined the small crowd, and some (but not many; any fool knew Gyou was unbeatable) began to pass money toward Kentaro. After a few minutes, he raised his hands again and shout, "Thank you very much! And now," he lowered his eyes to Raditsu and Gyou for emphasis, "the match will being!"
Gyou immediately pushed his arm against Raditsu`s, intent on quick victory. Raditsu stared at the man`s staining face, putting up no real resistance. It wasn`t even a effort to keep his arm at a 90 degree angle, and this was one of their best?
"Just beat him," Juunanagou said impatiently over Raditsu`s shoulder.
Raditsu was willing enough to comply, not because Juunanagou had told him to, but because he wanted the game to be over and done with so he could leave; this whole thing had been foolishness -- a waste of time.
He pushed his opponents hand down lightly, making a conscious effort not to damage the table, or the man`s hand; no reason to start anything that would hinder his leaving. (or get him in trouble, but Raditsu didn`t allow that thought to finish itself.)
"I`ll be damned," Gyou mumbled, looking at his fallen hand dumbfoundly. Gyou stood, bowed pleasantly enough, and joined the spectators.
"My turn," Juunanagou said, jumping up and heading for the empty seat.
"You?" Raditsu said with disbelief; how foolish could this kid be? "No." Raditsu turned to the door, walking quickly. What had he been thinking, anyway? Coming here, consorting with vermin -- Gods help him, he`d actually felt at home with them for a few minutes--
"Saiyajin!"
Raditsu froze, started to turn, caught himself, decided to wait Juunangou out, and held his position. Silents.
After several minutes he gave in and turned to Juunanagou, his arms crossed and all expression covered by a sneer.
Juunanagou was standing beside Gyou`s empty stool, his palms pressed against the table's surface, his eyes blazed and his lips were pressed thin in anger. "Sit down, Saiyajin," he said.
"Who told you--"
"Afterward."
"Maybe I`ll just beat the answer out of you." No answer. Raditsu laughed, mockingly; the best cover for uncertainty. "You can`t win, you know," he said, taking his former seat.
Juunanagou offered his hand -- he had to stretch to reach the big table`s center -- and Raditsu took it.
"Hey!" Kentaro shouted, moving to Juunanagou side and bending over the table so they were eye to eye. "That`s five zeni a piece entry fee, pays thirty--"
The Jinzoningen shot his free hand out and pushed Kentaro. Not hard, very lightly, but with enough force to send him reeling to the ground by the feet of a growing crowd of spectators. He smacked his head on the floor boards and blacked-out.
Two of the lumberjacks hauled Kentaro to the corner and propped him against the wall; fights were commonplace here, a person was considered fine as long was he was breathing and not obviously bleeding to death.
"Are you ready?" Juunanagou said. Raditsu nodded and took his hand.
Juunanagou`s hand was perfectly smooth, but hard; it didn`t have the soft, pliable feel of Gyou`s hand.
Something was wrong.
But instead of stopping to consider the situation, or the facts, he said "Sure," and grabbed Juunanagou`s hand tighter, hopping for a grimace or scream or crunch.
Juunanagou only smiled a little self-assured half smile. "Then begin."
Raditsu had intended to drive his opponent's hand through the table within the first millisecond; That`ll wipe the grin of the little creep's face, but it wasn`t that simple. Juunanagou was losing, his hand slipping toward the mat, but Raditsu was battling for every inch, as if he were fighting a slightly lesser Saiyajin and not just a human.
After I win, Raditsu decided, we`ll have a talk.
Inches from the win; Raditsu gave one last tremendous shove, throwing the muscles in his back behind those of his shoulder and arm.
Juunanagou scowled and with a flip of the wrist and fraction of his power, reversed their positions, so now the Saiyajin -- 'Raditsu', if Gero`s data was correct -- hand hovered just above the table's surface. He gave Raditsu a few seconds, waiting to see if he`d show more power or become Super Saiyajin, then Juunanagou tapped his hand on the mat.
Raditsu withdrew his hand, resisting the urge to rub it. A faint discoloration the shape of Juunanagou`s hand was forming around Raditsu`s palm and wrist. He study Juunanagou once again, much more carefully this time, trying to find some clue to the youth`s origins, and hiding his curiosity and (fear?) uncertainty behind a Saiyajin scowl. "You are not human," was the only conclusion he drew.
Juunanagou seemed to consider this, but instead of answering said, "I could say the same thing about you, Raditsu. You /are/ him, aren`t you? Son Goku`s brother?"
"I am. Although his name is Kakarotto," Raditsu said, a threatening tone in his voice.
Juunanagou was unimpressed. "So I`ve been told."
"By who--"
Juunanagou waved a hand for silence. "Drinks?" He stood and motioned toward the bar.
"Gratefully," Raditsu said, following Juunanagou to the counter.
"Say, Sharri!" Juunanagou called to the bartender, a red-headed, strongly built woman of about thirty-five.
"Hey, Juunanagou! Long time no see," she shouted from the other end of the counter. "What`ve you been doing with yourself?"
"I`ve been busy." Juunanagou changed the subject. "How about a round for me and this foreigner."
"Sure thing!" She drew two mugs from the tap and sat them in front of Raditsu and Juunanagou. "Foreigner, huh?" she said. "Where`s he from, Western Capital? I hear they`re wearing their hair long in Western Capital these days."
"No," Juunanagou said, wrapping his hands around the glass mug. "He`s from Vejiitasei."
"Whatever you say, hon," Sharri said, concern showing faintly on her face. Well, after so many years alone in the woods anyone would be a little off. She moved away to tend other customers.
"It`s true I don`t have much data on you, Saiyajin," he said, not looking at Raditsu. "But I was relatively sure you were dead."
"So was I."
"And...?" Juunanagou said.
Raditsu slammed his fist on the counter in real anger. Even so, there was an element of necessary control that all powerful beings learn early in life: the thick wooden plank shook but didn`t splinter. "'And' what? It doesn`t concern you."
Something dangerous flashed in Juunanagou`s eyes; Raditsu didn`t notice. "That`s true," Juunanagou said indifferently. He finished his drink and signaled for another.
Sharri, knowing Juunanagou`s habits, drew a pitcher from the tap. Juunanagou didn`t come to the bar offend; at most he only showed up twice a year. And she knew enough about such things to be certain he wasn`t an alcoholic; Thank Kami, but when he gets it into his head to drink, he drinks! Sharri had thought at first that he came to socialize, but before tonight he`d never talk to anyone beyond the most necessary amenities.
She sat the pitcher in front of him. Juunanagou didn`t make eye contact; you didn`t have to know how to read minds to know what she was thinking. She shouldn`t bother, I don`t need to deal with it./ Only one person had the right to worry about him /and that bitch is off playing the little wife and mother, and (besides himself) she was the only one Juunanagou wanted to concern himself with.
After Sharri had left he said, more to himself than Raditsu, "They`re not so bad, not all of them, did you know that? But I still don`t understand it."
Juunanagou looked directly at Raditsu. Raditsu didn`t like being stared at, no Saiyajin did; it was an open threat and an insult, but he didn`t allow himself look away.
"Saiyajin, do you know where you are?"
The simpleness of this question caught Raditsu off guard. "I`m on Earth." Gods, if it could have been any other planet. "Obviously," he added, realizing how foolish that sounded. "I have seen maps of the planet, but it was a great many years ago."
Juunanagou seemed to find this amusing. "Yes, of course. But more specifically, you`re in Jingle Village.
"Now, Saiyajin, one type of people come to Jingle Village... willingly, away. Do you know what kind that is?" he lead forward, seeming to wait expectantly for Raditsu`s answer.
Raditsu glared back darkly, debating if he`d been laughed at and what to do about it.
"Relax," Juunanagou, somewhat annoyed. "Try your drink."
Raditsu didn`t mind that idea at all; in fact, he couldn`t remember the last time he`d needed shit-faced more badly. He picked up the mug and took a large swallow. He sat it down quickly, trying not to make a face. Damn vermin piss-water It tasted disgusting and left an awful favor in his mouth; nothing like the good stuff the Saiyajin made.
"Acquired taste, I suppose." Juunanagou picked up the thread of his old topic. "The strong kind of humans live here. This is one of wildest places on Earth; no roads, no electricity except in the few self-powered capsule houses. No more than three-hundred people, counting the lumberjacks, and most of them leave within a year of coming. Only the ones that were born here ever stay, they`re the strongest. Nothing beside a Jinzoningen or Saiyajin, understand, but they do try."
"You say that was though 'trying' could keep me from decimating the whole town within a minute if I decided to." Raditsu changed his mind about his drink.
"Of course it couldn`t," Juunanagou said, "But where would the fun be in that?"
Juunanagou shrugged and re-filled his mug from the pitcher. After an affirmative nod from Raditsu, he filled the Saiyajin`s as well.
"We`re Jinzoningen, Juuhachigou and I. Machines from a human base, understand?"
"Then you`re human," Raditsu said, mildly disappointed and fully disgusted with the situation.
"No," Juunanagou said, voice angry and condescending and soft all at the same time. "Jinzoningen. Jinzoningen are superior to these," he swept his arm out in a gesture encompassing every person in the room, every human on Earth. "In every way; the most remarkable gifts of Jinzoningen being great power and agelessness. Something they`ll never have; I saw to that myself when I killed Gero. We are not human. Much as the bitch would like to pretend."
Something, it seemed to Raditsu, caught the Jinzoningen`s attention suddenly, though he couldn`t say what; Juunanagou`s eyes widened, very slightly, and his head darted toward the left wall. Had the wooded planks not been there Juunanagou would have been looking at the street. He turned back to Raditsu.
"Just wait until you see this guy. He`s a kick -- ten times worse than your
brother -- I swear." He spun his stool around so it faced the door. "Just wait," he repeated.
Raditsu emptied and refilled his glass waiting.
The sturdy pine door opened (no swinging, waist high saloon door this) and a huge man (at least, Raditsu thought it was a man), resembling Frankenstein's monster, sans neckbolts, just distantly enough to avoid copyright litigation, entered the tavern.
"Hachigou," Juunanagou called to him. The man came over, walking with a long wooded gait.
"Juunanagou!" he said in a deadpan, yet friendly voice. He took a long look at the other, slightly drunk Jinzoningen, his glass and the half empty pitcher.
"You`re being bad." Hachan finally concluded, after processing all the clues.
"So? I thought you said I was bad."
"You are," Hachan said agreeably.
"See," Juunanagou said to Raditsu, as though Hachan wasn`t there. "You can`t even talk to him.
"Hachigou`s Jinzoningen too, but he`s all mechanical, no biological base. Very old model; slow processing and low social comprehension, almost no power -- he`s stronger than most humans, of course -- though that`s not saying much.
"Hachigou`s a pacifist," Juunanagou added, in way of conversation. He turned around to fill his mug.
"A what?" Raditsu said, studying his beer intently. Normally he wouldn`t have dreamed of admitting ignorance so easily, especially to a human (and he still wasn`t at all convinced Juunanagou wasn`t human) but now it seemed all right.
"Being a pacifist," Juunanagou said, "means you don`t believe in fighting. Do you, big guy?"
"Hurting people is bad," Hachan intoned confidently.
"See, what did I tell you?" Juunanagou said, much louder than he had been before and well on his way to being fall down drunk. "Tell me, Hachigou, is this guy here," he motioned to Raditsu, "Good or bad?"
Hachan studied Raditsu carefully, starting at the tip of the Saiyajin`s spiky hair and working his way down. Hachan was a very good judge of character, everyone told him so, and he was about to conclude that Raditsu was very bad -- that much showed in his face -- when he came to the brown furry tail swinging behind Raditsu`s chair.
"Hey!" Hachan shouted happily, loud enough to make the glass windows rattle in their panes and a dozen heads snap in the three non-humans` direction. "You have a tail like Son Goku!"
Juunanagou sighed and wondered why he hadn`t seen this coming.
Raditsu`s tail wrapped itself around his waste cautiously. "I do. He`s my brother."
"Really? Are you like him?"
"Now what kind of question is that?" Juunanagou interrupted.
"Well, when I said you and Juhachigou looked just alike but you said you were nothing like her and called her bad names so I wondered if it was like that with everyone`s family-- " Juunanagou`s face had begun to redden angrily, "But repeating that was bad, wasn`t it? I am sorry. I was only trying to understand."
"You can`t understand, you`re incapable of it. Idiot." Juunanagou said, before turning back to his drink. "And I don`t care about that bitch and her midget fetish."
Raditsu had once again drained his mug over the course of this conversation. "No, I`m not at all like him," he said, more for his own benefit than Hachan`s.
"That`s too bad," Hachan said, glad to be talking to some one instead of standing in the uncomfortable silence behind Juunanagou. "Son Goku was very good." Then, as thought to make up for it he said, "My name is Hachan. What`s yours?"
"Since when do you even come here?" Juunanagou said, frustrate at being interrupted. "I thought bars were bad."
"They are," Hachan said, pleased his fellow Jinzoningen finally seeing the light. "I am looking for Kentaro."
"He`s over there," Juunanagou said, pointing to the far end of the room, where Kentaro was still propped against the wall. "Now shoo."
Hachan walked to the man, and bending over him, took Kentaro`s shoulder in his huge mitts, and so gently, shook him.
"They always change their names, don`t they?" Raditsu said after Hachan left for the General Store, steadying Kentaro as they walked. "They change their names then they start acting stupid."
"That one doesn`t matter, anyway."
There was a long stretch of silence, not so much awkward as apathetic. Sharri refilled the pitcher twice, while they starred at the colored rows bottles on shelves behind the bar counter.
"'Midget fetish?" Raditsu said after a while.
"You know the guy, I think. Kuririn. The short one who plays tag-a-long to Son-- Kakarotto."
"Oh, that guy," Raditsu said. "Gods, I wish I`d killed him."
"Ah well, she`ll be back soon anyway. He`s weak like the rest of them, he`ll die. I`m leaving now."
They left the tavern; Juunanagou heading for his cabin and Raditsu for the woods where the lion should have been sleeping.
_____________________________
Animals can`t be expected to understand everything.
The lion had come back to the cave at dusk, hoping to find the Ally.
And when he hadn`t been there, the lion had done the most natural thing in the world, something he`d done dozens of times before; he went looking for Raditsu.
The Ally had taken a wide, well traveled game trail, so the scent was easy to follow. And though it did head in a direction that seemed dangerous for some reason the lion couldn`t quite remember, it seemed to him if the Ally had went that way it must be safe.
No one can be expected to understand everything.