Ai no Yume
*****
Hell and Cars
She felt like she'd been run through the jaws of a rabid, drunk, bloodthirsty shark of death.
And, to add to the perpetual joy, she was wandering, lost, through a desolate land ravaged and torn apart by some kind of monstrous evil…in her Senshi uniform. Which was only a slight improvement to her earlier state of complete lack of clothing…oh, ye God, these high heels were _killing_ her feet! When one caught between two large, blocky rocks, the twig of a heel snapped off sharply and Mars learned that the dirt in this time smelled foully like blood. Gagging softly, she sat up.
For what seemed to be the millionth time, she closed her eyes and concentrated…the strongest of the Senshi when it came to things such as ESP, Mars sought out any familiar signatures, trying to find her sisters-by-oath.
After a fruitless search turned out nothing but a couple of strange signatures, creased and twisted in her mind's eye as if they weren't pure-blooded, the hypocritically icy Senshi bowed her head to mumble to the ground. "How can I put this lightly…screw it! SCREW IT ALL!!" Grinding her teeth together painfully, she tossed her thick black hair over her shoulder and wrenched her heels off, tossing them carelessly over her shoulder. "Why," she muttered, tearing the long ribbons on the back of her skirt off and peeling her gloves away from her clammy skin so as to create makeshift shoes, "does this kind of sickly perverse thing happen every three weekends? Why," she continued, tying the red cloth to the white cloth, absently unthreading the ribbon on her chest to add to the half-woven 'slippers' as she talked softly to herself, "can't I have a normal life? And, more importantly," she stood up, taking a few tentative steps to test the durability and feel of her new foot garb, "where's the rest of the girls?"
One of the hybrid signatures was right behind her.
Whirling on her heel, Mars screamed once, a fatal cry of, "Fire Soul!", the power of which had grown over her years as a Senshi so that it had become her favorite attack in or not in Super Senshi mode.
The signature had vanished and a strong arm closed tightly against her jugular, creating enough pain to warn her but keep her out of panic, for the 'attacker' was concerned for this pretty (and vicious) young woman's sanity and abilities.
Minutes later, the man with short, spiky black hair would wish he hadn't worried at all.
Channeling fire literally through her veins, Mars sent the unseen flames into the man holding her captive, satisfied to hear him grunt, hiss a slightly volatile curse, and let go swiftly. Happily twisting around in an airborne loop, Mars grinned ferally, launching a roundhouse kick at her opponent, slamming her bandaged foot harshly into his face.
However, she underestimated him and he grabbed her ankle even as his head snapped to a side, throwing her in a high arch over his head.
A dirty expletive erupted joyfully from the young woman in the red fuku, her body screeching a few inches along the ground before her back hit a large piece of debris and she spasmed involuntarily, accidentally letting loose a set of 'Burning Mandala' with her mind, which, in turn, activated the pent-up energy leashed carefully behind her fingertips.
The flames ripped forth, knocking her supposed attacker down and draining her of all her energy reserves.
As the man collapsed, she got a clear look at his face.
He was sad.
"Gomen nasai," she murmured, and then sweet oblivion claimed her for a while, a small duration of time.
(*)
"Gohan-sensei, where are you?" Trunks called, rubbing irritatedly at his runny nose. He absolutely _hated_ colds…
The sun was setting and chill temperatures once again began to set into the dank, obsolete land. A rough wind tousled the seven-year old's light lavender hair and he sneezed, scratching at his itching eyes. Allergies…every year…
Finally, freezing, hovering in mid-air over an indistinguishable pile of rubble with his mother's worried instructions to be back by the time the sun completely vanished, Trunks threw all caution literally into the wind, bellowing, "GOHAN-SENSEIIIIIIIIII!!!!!" Being scolded by both his sensei and his mother later was, he reasoned, much more preferable to not having a sensei to scold him at all later. What with the Jinzouningen behaving even more violently than before, Trunks wasn't ready to leave the man who was his closest friend alone at night.
And then he saw it.
A droplet of crimson blood, staining the dirt, followed by the sound of harsh, ragged breathing, and a scraping-dragging sound.
Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Trunks accelerated his air speed, whipping around a half-demolished building obstructing the view.
A small woman with long raven hair and a grimacing face was carrying Son Gohan limply over her shoulder, his body dotted with burns. She was wearing a strange red miniskirt wound over a tight, blood-stained white leotard of sorts with puffy red-pink sleeves and a sailor-style cloth about the collar.
Finding his voice, trembling though it was, he slowly questioned, "Daijoubu?"
She shook her head. "Demo, this man…he needs help."
"Gohan-sensei…"
Gohan stirred, moaned once, and fell to sleep, head bent oddly on her shoulder, though he couldn't care less.
(*)
Staring darkly at Juunanagou's back, Venus considered hitting him for all of two seconds, instead opting to whine, "Are we almost there yet?" as she leaned heavily on the large stick (though she personally thought it was a tree trunk) she had been given to use a crutch.
His eye twitched once and he replied, forcibly calm, "As I said for the past three hundred and fifty-seven times in the last five minutes, we are almost there."
"But I wanna be there no~ow!"
He stopped walking, and tried to tell his programmed nerves to _not_ kill the petite, though energetic, woman. "Unfortunately, we aren't there now," he spoke slowly, forced.
Venus sighed, swept a blonde bang out of her eyes, and quickly stepped up to Juunanagou, tapping him on his shoulder. "You're so serious," she teased. "Just another arrogant man out to rule the world. You and Demando would've been best-friends."
Trying his level best to ignore the temptingly close warmth of her body as well as the cheerful openness of her personality, he smiled wanly, pushing aside a few thick branches to reveal a small car parked by a hidden country road. "Care if I drive?" he asked with a smirk as she glared.
"I can drive very well, I'll have you know!" she cried indignantly, before pausing. "As long as there aren't mailboxes in the way. I have the strangest habit of knocking mailboxes down…"
Raising an eyebrow, Juunanagou sardonically bowed, wafting a hand at the car door. With an imperial sniff, Venus stuck her nose in the air, and limped ahead of him.
He sincerely put all his will-power into not staring at the hemline of his overcoat rising and falling with each of her stumbling steps. He failed, but he still tried, and that was what mattered.
Of course, she tripped, fell, and Juunanagou couldn't stop the snicker that ripped from his mouth. "Graceful," he moved to her side, hoisting her over his shoulder amid protests and a flurry of rather painful kicks, "aren't you?" That said, he kicked the car door open, dropped her casually on the clean seat and buckled her in.
The last word the forest denizens heard before the car started was, "BAKAAAAAA!"
And then there was silence.
Go ahead, I know it was short. I'm a wee bit brain-dead and tired right now, so forgive me…and next chapter will have more screwing around with time, as Ami finds herself in the timeline of Mirai no Trunks when Trunks has returned from the Cell 'games' and she finds that time is a tricky thing…especially when objects start appearing that didn't exist the moment before…like the worn picture of a young, scholarly appearing man with short, spiky black hair holding a small woman with flowing raven hair and intense, flame-filled violet eyes…
Oi! This chapter sucked and I know it! But, I will need 'filler' chapters anyway…so, ja mata!
Purple Mongoose/PallaPlease.
[PS~ Take the thirty seconds to review, please!]
DISCLAIMER:
The Sailor Senshi are © to Takeuchi Naoko-san, Kodansha, DiC, Cloverway, Toei Animation, Mixx Entertainment, etc.
The Dragonball characters are © to Toriyama Akira-san, Shogakun (?), FUNimation, Viz Entertainment, etc.
"Ai no Yume" in its entirety, all situations and plot devices thus far, is © to myself, referred to on-line as PallaPlease or Purple Mongoose/PallaPlease. [Credit for idea for scene in 'Time Warped' is given duly to Kawaii Lil Dejiko.]
*****
Hell and Cars
She felt like she'd been run through the jaws of a rabid, drunk, bloodthirsty shark of death.
And, to add to the perpetual joy, she was wandering, lost, through a desolate land ravaged and torn apart by some kind of monstrous evil…in her Senshi uniform. Which was only a slight improvement to her earlier state of complete lack of clothing…oh, ye God, these high heels were _killing_ her feet! When one caught between two large, blocky rocks, the twig of a heel snapped off sharply and Mars learned that the dirt in this time smelled foully like blood. Gagging softly, she sat up.
For what seemed to be the millionth time, she closed her eyes and concentrated…the strongest of the Senshi when it came to things such as ESP, Mars sought out any familiar signatures, trying to find her sisters-by-oath.
After a fruitless search turned out nothing but a couple of strange signatures, creased and twisted in her mind's eye as if they weren't pure-blooded, the hypocritically icy Senshi bowed her head to mumble to the ground. "How can I put this lightly…screw it! SCREW IT ALL!!" Grinding her teeth together painfully, she tossed her thick black hair over her shoulder and wrenched her heels off, tossing them carelessly over her shoulder. "Why," she muttered, tearing the long ribbons on the back of her skirt off and peeling her gloves away from her clammy skin so as to create makeshift shoes, "does this kind of sickly perverse thing happen every three weekends? Why," she continued, tying the red cloth to the white cloth, absently unthreading the ribbon on her chest to add to the half-woven 'slippers' as she talked softly to herself, "can't I have a normal life? And, more importantly," she stood up, taking a few tentative steps to test the durability and feel of her new foot garb, "where's the rest of the girls?"
One of the hybrid signatures was right behind her.
Whirling on her heel, Mars screamed once, a fatal cry of, "Fire Soul!", the power of which had grown over her years as a Senshi so that it had become her favorite attack in or not in Super Senshi mode.
The signature had vanished and a strong arm closed tightly against her jugular, creating enough pain to warn her but keep her out of panic, for the 'attacker' was concerned for this pretty (and vicious) young woman's sanity and abilities.
Minutes later, the man with short, spiky black hair would wish he hadn't worried at all.
Channeling fire literally through her veins, Mars sent the unseen flames into the man holding her captive, satisfied to hear him grunt, hiss a slightly volatile curse, and let go swiftly. Happily twisting around in an airborne loop, Mars grinned ferally, launching a roundhouse kick at her opponent, slamming her bandaged foot harshly into his face.
However, she underestimated him and he grabbed her ankle even as his head snapped to a side, throwing her in a high arch over his head.
A dirty expletive erupted joyfully from the young woman in the red fuku, her body screeching a few inches along the ground before her back hit a large piece of debris and she spasmed involuntarily, accidentally letting loose a set of 'Burning Mandala' with her mind, which, in turn, activated the pent-up energy leashed carefully behind her fingertips.
The flames ripped forth, knocking her supposed attacker down and draining her of all her energy reserves.
As the man collapsed, she got a clear look at his face.
He was sad.
"Gomen nasai," she murmured, and then sweet oblivion claimed her for a while, a small duration of time.
(*)
"Gohan-sensei, where are you?" Trunks called, rubbing irritatedly at his runny nose. He absolutely _hated_ colds…
The sun was setting and chill temperatures once again began to set into the dank, obsolete land. A rough wind tousled the seven-year old's light lavender hair and he sneezed, scratching at his itching eyes. Allergies…every year…
Finally, freezing, hovering in mid-air over an indistinguishable pile of rubble with his mother's worried instructions to be back by the time the sun completely vanished, Trunks threw all caution literally into the wind, bellowing, "GOHAN-SENSEIIIIIIIIII!!!!!" Being scolded by both his sensei and his mother later was, he reasoned, much more preferable to not having a sensei to scold him at all later. What with the Jinzouningen behaving even more violently than before, Trunks wasn't ready to leave the man who was his closest friend alone at night.
And then he saw it.
A droplet of crimson blood, staining the dirt, followed by the sound of harsh, ragged breathing, and a scraping-dragging sound.
Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Trunks accelerated his air speed, whipping around a half-demolished building obstructing the view.
A small woman with long raven hair and a grimacing face was carrying Son Gohan limply over her shoulder, his body dotted with burns. She was wearing a strange red miniskirt wound over a tight, blood-stained white leotard of sorts with puffy red-pink sleeves and a sailor-style cloth about the collar.
Finding his voice, trembling though it was, he slowly questioned, "Daijoubu?"
She shook her head. "Demo, this man…he needs help."
"Gohan-sensei…"
Gohan stirred, moaned once, and fell to sleep, head bent oddly on her shoulder, though he couldn't care less.
(*)
Staring darkly at Juunanagou's back, Venus considered hitting him for all of two seconds, instead opting to whine, "Are we almost there yet?" as she leaned heavily on the large stick (though she personally thought it was a tree trunk) she had been given to use a crutch.
His eye twitched once and he replied, forcibly calm, "As I said for the past three hundred and fifty-seven times in the last five minutes, we are almost there."
"But I wanna be there no~ow!"
He stopped walking, and tried to tell his programmed nerves to _not_ kill the petite, though energetic, woman. "Unfortunately, we aren't there now," he spoke slowly, forced.
Venus sighed, swept a blonde bang out of her eyes, and quickly stepped up to Juunanagou, tapping him on his shoulder. "You're so serious," she teased. "Just another arrogant man out to rule the world. You and Demando would've been best-friends."
Trying his level best to ignore the temptingly close warmth of her body as well as the cheerful openness of her personality, he smiled wanly, pushing aside a few thick branches to reveal a small car parked by a hidden country road. "Care if I drive?" he asked with a smirk as she glared.
"I can drive very well, I'll have you know!" she cried indignantly, before pausing. "As long as there aren't mailboxes in the way. I have the strangest habit of knocking mailboxes down…"
Raising an eyebrow, Juunanagou sardonically bowed, wafting a hand at the car door. With an imperial sniff, Venus stuck her nose in the air, and limped ahead of him.
He sincerely put all his will-power into not staring at the hemline of his overcoat rising and falling with each of her stumbling steps. He failed, but he still tried, and that was what mattered.
Of course, she tripped, fell, and Juunanagou couldn't stop the snicker that ripped from his mouth. "Graceful," he moved to her side, hoisting her over his shoulder amid protests and a flurry of rather painful kicks, "aren't you?" That said, he kicked the car door open, dropped her casually on the clean seat and buckled her in.
The last word the forest denizens heard before the car started was, "BAKAAAAAA!"
And then there was silence.
Go ahead, I know it was short. I'm a wee bit brain-dead and tired right now, so forgive me…and next chapter will have more screwing around with time, as Ami finds herself in the timeline of Mirai no Trunks when Trunks has returned from the Cell 'games' and she finds that time is a tricky thing…especially when objects start appearing that didn't exist the moment before…like the worn picture of a young, scholarly appearing man with short, spiky black hair holding a small woman with flowing raven hair and intense, flame-filled violet eyes…
Oi! This chapter sucked and I know it! But, I will need 'filler' chapters anyway…so, ja mata!
Purple Mongoose/PallaPlease.
[PS~ Take the thirty seconds to review, please!]
DISCLAIMER:
The Sailor Senshi are © to Takeuchi Naoko-san, Kodansha, DiC, Cloverway, Toei Animation, Mixx Entertainment, etc.
The Dragonball characters are © to Toriyama Akira-san, Shogakun (?), FUNimation, Viz Entertainment, etc.
"Ai no Yume" in its entirety, all situations and plot devices thus far, is © to myself, referred to on-line as PallaPlease or Purple Mongoose/PallaPlease. [Credit for idea for scene in 'Time Warped' is given duly to Kawaii Lil Dejiko.]