Chap6

Disclaimer: All of the characters of DBZ belong to their creator. Personally, I think I have a better plot than he did, so I don't know why I'm giving him credit.............::Gets dragged away by Chibi Akira Toriyama and the cast of DBZ:: No.......I swear.....I didn't intentionally screw up your plot... It just happened........It's all lies!:: Vegeta hits Murasaki on the head with a beer bottle:: ::...silence...::

Muri-Chan's Two cents: Readers, get ready.....This is angst so thick, you could cut it with a knife.....This chapter, we explore Koola's inner struggles .........Yes, in this fic, he is neither a bully nor a psycho........ ((Even I wonder where these ideas originate))...See if your opinion of him changes after this.......(there's just not enough Koola fics out there......just Frieza.......I wonder why...)^_^
Oh yeah........you might want to reread chapter two before this one......Just a hint that will make things easier.


::One Of The Enemy::
A story by Murasaki Iiro
Chapter Six:Tears Of A Shattered Soul

Feelings of deplorable self-pity and uncertainty washed over Koola as he stared absentmindedly into the mirror built into the corridor leading from the engine room. It was not a grand construction, as were the ingeniously carved ones in the houses of nobles; nor a delicate one , like the porcelain-bordered hand mirror his mother had managed to save from repeated catastrophes . It was rather crude, simply metal and glass nailed to the wall at an irregular angle; an object strictly of purpose rather than of beauty........primitive yet eerily inviting.

Perhaps, long ago, when this ship had been new, reckless young soldiers had checked their dreary early morning appearances there before scrambling to report to their commanding officers. He could almost hear the delicate sandaled footsteps of a general's daughter as she examined her complexion, searching for the slightest imperfection, as young girls often did. He could almost see the rambunctious serving boys of decades ago poking fun at their superiors by imitating their expressions and outlandish accents............ Their living caricatures reflected mockingly back at them, providing many hours of giggles and fiendish glee. Thousands and thousands of people must have stopped to study themselves in this smudged surface.........

Ah, so many memories a mirror must hold, does it not?......It has seen so many faces, this mirror....... the beautiful, the vain, the proud, the pure, the comical, the traitorous, the mysterious, the fortunate...............the broken, the hopeless, the empty, the desolate.........and mine.....

He scrutinized his profile carefully. It was by no means unique.........he had the same squared chin and straight nose as half the men he knew.......... Untamed silver hair that had belonged, in turn, to his father, his grandfather, and two of his sons...........Grey-black pools for eyes that were filled with mystery, ironically reminiscent of his foes' dark Seiyan glares....... not a noteworthy face, perhaps a little rough along the edges, but still gentle, as always.........

Sweet, beautiful Jinna had always loved that face.........no matter if it was streaked with grime from the battlefield or so intricately painted with thin lines and points of black pigment , as was customary for nobility on a sacred day. She had never once told him he was corrupt, even though he was often forced to do terrible things that he was greatly ashamed of. He always had the utmost affection for her, and she for him.........Often she was the one ray of hope in the confusion that surrounded him...... the turmoils of war twisting and contorting his soul until he knew not who to blame or what to fight for.........only she remained , the one pure thing left in the hideous and terrifying chaos that had become his reality.........

He gazed into the face in the mirror again. It was not only a fusion of features, but burning with emotions.......... The eyes were full of fear and agony, fighting to break free from the mind that had struggled to imprison them for so long.........He was afraid.....afraid to leave his people in the hands of a madwoman......afraid to face Goku.......afraid to walk through life alone.........

Tears slowly ran down his cheeks, stinging his face.......He made no effort to stop, for there was nothing left to hold on to......... Just a thread of a hope that his enemies would accept his plea. But a thread could never save a man falling into a chasm of despair........It would snap in two and pull him to the depths of Hell from which he could never return......

Jinna.......tell me........What should I do?........I can't go on like this.........I'm lost, Jinna.......

That face........He hated that face now.........He hated it because the man behind it was so empty, so alone.......That face had smiled a thousand smiles and laughed a thousand laughs, but never would again. Koola wished with all his might that he were dead, for the world was dead to him, and he was nothing without Jinna.

He sank to the floor, his near seven foot frame crumpled into a heap...........Nobody was here......Nobody would see him cry........He buried his face in his hands, and mourned the loss of his wife his brother, his father, his nephew , his friends, his comrades ..........all were gone, where he could not see their faces or hear their voices until he too joined them.........

So seeped was he in his own pool of self-pity, that Koola did not detect the presence of another individual lurking in the doorway. The person crept toward him, on silent bare feet, approaching tentatively, half in curiosity, half in fear........Slowly, in unsure steps,the figure came nearer........

A tiny, cherubic hand tugged on Koola's sleeve........, the petite red-headed girl said, barely raising her voice above a whisper.

He lifted his head and his youngest daughter came into view, the spitting image of her beautiful mother. Two perfect coils of fire-colored hair sat atop her head, flawlessly formed, just as Jinna had first plaited them early that morning. Around her tiny, two and a half foot figure hung a deep blue, sleeveless, ankle-length linen dress,plain...... but typical of any small girl. The only adornment she wore was a thin gold bracelet, a meager reminder of the priceless jewelry that had once graced the slender wrists , necks, and ankles of queens before her. She had no memory of the times when her family had been powerful and prosperous. All she knew was secrecy, mourning , fear, and survival, a way of life that had been accepted by the common man from generation to generation.

She will never know her true identity, her history.........When she is grown, will she ask who her mother was?.........Will I even be there to give her the answer?..........

All was chaos, but the wayward spin of the universe stopped just then for both father and daughter........just long enough for the child to ask a question..........Three simple words from a girl not yet able to understand the significance of them.......

Xa yi Tana?............

Where is Mama?......

He had no immediate answer to give, for he was taken aback by her few, but precocious words. How could he explain the concept of death to someone barely old enough to string together a sentence, if that at all?

But she was there, waiting...........curious...... Koola could not lie to her. Jinna was not coming back. Not now. Not ever. All he could tell her was what he knew to be true.

Your mother was never fit to walk among mortals, such as we, Jiyaisa. The Lord of Heaven cannot allow us to be rewarded by such beauty. Perhaps someday we shall come to know how a goddess fell from the heavens and into our midst...........Until then,we must treasure the trail of memories she has left behind for us, and remember her always.......

By saying these words aloud, he had filled a little of the emptiness that had threatened his very being. He had to stay alive..............he had to make sacrifices..............He was no longer living for his own sake, but for Jiyaisa's............If he crashed and burned , where would she be?........Who would his children become if he was not there to remind them of their heritage?.......

Bringing himself to level height with his daughter, he noticed a faint but familiar glimmer of understanding. She was young, yes, but she understood. Years ago, when he had first seen that glimmer in the eyes of a young woman, she too had made her imprint upon his soul.

So, Jinna.......... you have not really left us after all..... you left me a gift, a part of you..........the part of your shining, golden self that I loved best.........

He stood up, triumphantly, filled with new spirit. Lifting Jiyaisa onto his shoulders, he turned his back on the mirror and the lonely corridor. As the heavy door shut behind him, he locked his anguish away with them. The only thing he had now was the the sound of his daughter's laughter as she reached to touch the ceiling from her perch high above the ground. And that, he thought, was all he needed..........

Across a vast and forever changing sea of space, a drunken man grimly poured himself another glass of red wine . He was sitting on an armchair in the corner of his hosts' living room, sinking further into it as the night wore on. The man no longer cared if he became inebriated, for all that had been of value to him had been lost.

Only a short time ago, he had been returned from the realm of deceased warriors, waiting impatiently as his friends fought the most challenging of opponents. He watched helplessly while they suffered......... hour after painful hour. And now, after he had been so graciously restored, he was once again an outsider.

He gazed longingly at a beautiful woman with vivid blue eyes, as he grudgingly swallowed another mouthful of the pleasantly tart liquid. Motherhood had rendered her even more loving and energetic than ever before. He had often imagined that the infant child she held in her arms was his own, that she was his wife, and that she loved him still. But the child was not his, and nor was she.

Instead, she had so readily poured her affections upon the most arrogant and egocentric of men, one who never once gave her a word of kindness in return. She deserved better. He would have given her more............more than this rootless prince had to offer her.............more than a life where her lover refused even to call their son by name. It. ...........That Child...........Boy.........So many times he had heard these hateful words and shuddered at them. If it had been his son, he would have been proud to have taught him the martial arts and the way of the warrior. But it was not so, and would never be.

Another swallow of wine followed the first. How bitter life was when the only adventures to be had were those that were doomed to end in death. He would rather have not learned of his own demise in the near future...........perhaps it would only be months before he met his fate at the hands of two villainous machines.

He watched as the minute hand on the wall clock monotonously ticked towards the first hour after midnight. How long would he be trapped with these hypocrites who celebrated a holiday that held no meaning for them?.......... Did they not consider themselves true Buddhists? Even Krillin joined the throng of merrymakers, a mere pawn in Chichi's relentless pursuit of domestic perfection.........For all of his powerful physique, Goku had succumbed to her dictatorship within their own home. He knew that Goku was as unhappy as he, but kept silent, for fear of losing one of his oldest friends. What had become of the almost brothers he had shared the highest and lowest hours of his life with? Had they left him in the dark, and continued on the road of life without him? .........

That notion was almost too disturbing to bear, and he hoped that it was the wine that had given rise to such thoughts in his head.........The glass of wine disappeared as the hour hand inched by the one o'clock mark. He did not hesitate to pour another, filled to the brim.

What do I really want? .............Do I want love? Do I want honesty? Do I want an adventure?....

No, none of those. All he wanted was out. Out of this room, away from these people, far from this house of traitors , liars,and hypocrites. Out.............

The last threads of sane thought drifted away into the howling winter wind as his eyes closed, his mind drifting into a drunken slumber.........

The laws that govern our universe are funny things.........They give to some, and take from others, all in turn. Yet they always take for a reason............a reason that even the wisest of men fail to see until they have completed their own path in the complex scheme of fate...........


More of Murasaki's two cents: So sorry it took ages to get this chapter out.......Writer's block must be contagious.......If so, then we need a vaccination............. Although, in my opinion this was my best chapter yet.......Worth the suffering, ne? The bit at the end with Yamcha, (our mystery man), was inspired by one of those all too common B/V romances.......I thought it would be exciting to dissect his psyche.........::Did anyone say ANGST!::..........So you like this or not?!?! Please, say whatever came into your head after reading it........I really don't care if you think its vile, but use constructive criticism...... please! ((although nobody has hated it so far, so I'm optimistic about the future of this fic)).......

Sayonara........for now,
Murasaki

By the way------ Three cheers for Biowolf! ........I love pioneers in the field of fanfiction..........we all need a little Cell now and then........