Dragon Ball: Makafushigi Adventure

By Reid M. Haynes

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball and all characters within are the property of Akira Toriyama, TOEI ANIMATION, and various other companies. I am using them without permission, and I am making no money off of them.

Legend:
( ) Denotes thoughts.

Tale 9: In Too Deep, Part 1

*****

The dull sunset burnt the sky overlooking a mid-sized city somewhere in the West. Like stone monoliths, the street lamps hung over the darkened road; it was not quite dark enough for the extra light. The buildings stood quietly adorning each side, with windows lit for the folks sheltered within. Since many of the people were at home enjoying supper, the road was all but abandoned, populated by only a few stray cars.

So the lone stranger had the road and the night completely to himself. He was a tall man, with strong features built for athletics, though he moved at a normal pace. Long spiky bangs shadowed his face, creating a mask for his features. His hands were sunk in his pockets, and his posture was broken and weak, barely enough to walk with.

But, by the manner he carried himself, walking was all he seemed to want to do. His aura held not a spark of life, and his head hung down. He kept up the same not fast-not slow pace, so perfectly balanced that it was haunting. Like some sort of a zombie, enchanted by some ethereal force to do one thing and one thing only.

Walk.

And with no cars obstructing his path, walk he did, and walk he continued to do, as the sky drew darker and darker.

Several minutes passed this way.

Then, one by one, each of the streetlights popped on, affixing circles of light to the area they oversaw. Alternating, the left and right lights blinked on, working steadily to illuminate the silent town little by little.

In a minute, they moved passed the intersection and continued onward, towards the road that the stranger was walking. They repeated their task of sequential illumination, left right left right, much like the man that they traveled with. Or pursued, for it seemed that they were catching up with him. Little by little, the distance between the man and the mechanisms were shortening. Thirty yards, then ten, five, and before long they had passed him and carried through, leaving behind the form of a young martial artist, with dark hair, taut muscles, and the saddest eyes you could possibly find.

Son Goku wandered through the city, alone in his haze of thought. With distant eyes, he navigated the streets mechanically, barely acknowledging the corners he turned. His footfalls were soft and quiet, yet he felt every step he took like a pendulum against his heart.

Having changed out of his gi back at the Capsule House, Goku was dressed in simple street clothes: a jacket, jeans, and sneakers. Materials that, although comfortable enough, were too heavy for combat. But it suited him just fine; he didn't feel much like a fighter anymore.

The only articles that still remained on him from the morning were Sushinchu, and the sheath that harbored his broken Nyoibo, which clanked with every step he took. Small comfort, for they acted more as reminders of his failure than any sort of security from it.

Chichi was gone.

Gohan was gone.

And Bulma…well…she was probably gone too.

He had lost everything. Every element of his life had been torn asunder. All that he took for granted had taken flight.

Step by step, Goku moved on through the urban lights with uneasy placidity, if such an emotion was possible. So wound up in his own thoughts that he didn't even care where he was walking. And since there was no cars coming, he just walked in the middle of the street, treading the yellow lines carefully, not that he was really trying.

He knew that he had been ignoring Chichi, in favor of his training and his vigilance over the planet's life. But he didn't know that he had been ignoring his own feelings. Being too caught up in one affair after another, he hadn't noticed the itch that had sprung up in him, until the Dragon Ball trip jolted his systems.

He had suddenly become aware of how he felt about Bulma. Of how Chichi felt about that.

But it was too little, too late. Now he had to face up to the consequences.

"It's my fault," Goku whispered into the darkness, closing his eyes in shame. It was his fault. If only he had known all of this sooner, he could've sorted it all out. He'd have told Yamcha to take his Dragon Ball hunt and shove it up his ass. He'd had stayed with Chichi, and tolerated all of her nitpicking and anxieties. He'd have taken Gohan fishing.

Or would he have gone on the trip all the same?

Goku slammed his hand against his jeans, biting his lip in a low growl. After all of this damn walking, he still didn't know what to think. His entire center was screwed up; he had no idea what he was even doing here! His wife was gone, his life was gone, it was all his fault, and he was still no step closer to solving anything.

The sound of muffled voices emitted from his left. Goku looked up then to find he had wandered into the residential sector, comprised mostly of small, affordable condo that lined either side of the street. Most of them had turned off their lights for the night.

But one apartment was still lit, distinguishing the two shadows inside. They moved lithely, still full of energy even with the sun setting on them. Both of them were quite caught up in something, and they were making enough noise to be heard outside.

To Goku, though, it was a saving grace. Quickly, he strode down the walkway, and leapt over the steps leading to the "Welcome" mat. With his fist, he pounded on the doorway, sighing in relief. Maybe there was still one person that could help him.

(C'mon, Kuririn, answer…)

*****

A short man in his late twenties placed a small porcelain pot back underneath the table he had finished cleaning. He then used his feather duster to wipe the grime from a coffeepot, a plastic poodle, and a sculpture of Karin the Cat. After that, he placed the duster on the table and prepared to give the room a good spray, realizing midway that he had misplaced his aerosol somehow. Putting one hand to his chin, he used the other to scratch his head, trying to remember where he put it.

Then he lurched back, aghast in panic. On his scalp grew a strange, moss-like substance that frayed out in all directions like a porcupine. It encased his skull in a half-orb, sucking up the nourishing air like a porcupine. And it would let none escape.

The man sweated heavily, thinking quickly on how to eliminate this nemesis, before it drained his brain of all fluid and left him a dry corpse. Quickly, he summoned a small ball of ki into his palm, ready to blast it onto this intruder into his everyday. .

And a moment later he stopped, letting the energy fizzle into nothingness. Then he slapped himself on the
forehead.

(Oh yeah,) He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. (Hair.)

Kuririn slumped down in the easy chair, exhausted from his burst of hysteria. He sighed, and un-tucked his T-shirt from his jeans, letting the fabric drape over his mildly muscled form. He rested his head against the cushioned back of the chair, and closed his heavy eyes.

He was a far cry from the seedy-eyed punk that had left Orin Temple all those years ago. More, he was quite different from the nervous young man that had stood up to the fiercest foes in the galaxy. Kuririn had become saggy and soft, like a nose-less pincushion. Oh sure, he still had quite a bit of muscle left over from his fighting days, but it had become miniscule compared to the super-human fitness of his youth.

He had become a normal human.

"Hey, you lazy bum," A tough, yet feminine voice sounded from the hall. "Aren't you through?" Kuririn opened his eyes to a pert young woman standing in the hall. She had short blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a can of aerosol in her grasp.

(Of course,) He let a smile perk up on his face. (Being normal ain't all bad.) "Just a second, Ju-chan," he said, moving from his chair. "I'm almost done."

Juuhachigou groaned, closed her eyes, and sprayed a light mist from the aerosol. "There," she grunted, placing the can hard on top of the television set. "Once again, I've done the work, so you can relax." She opened her eyes and rolled them theatrically.

"Heh heh…!" Kuririn chuckled nervously, a sweatdrop rolling off his temple. (Guess she's in one of her moods again.) he secretly thought to himself. (Been getting them a lot more often, too. What is with women?)

Juuhachigou approached him. "Forget it," she said, dismissed his worries. She sat down in the armchair facing him. "Sit down. We need to talk."

Kuririn stalled for a moment, wondering what on earth was bothering her. But upon seeing the seriousness of her expression, he decided he'd ask questions later. So he sat back down in the easy chair slowly, rested his palms on the arms, and waited patiently for his wife to start.

Only it didn't look like she was ever going to start. Juuhachigou was looking down, rubbing her hands distractedly. Her face was unreadable, but Kuririn could see in those eyes of hers a certain fear welled up within. Something was eating her, and it was grating against her emotions bad.

(Ju-chan's never this caught up in herself unless it's something really important) Kuririn looked at her, trying to pick out her feelings from plain eyesight. (I wonder what's up?)

Finally, Juuhachigou glanced up, a bit hesitantly. "I'm not sure what it is." she stalled for a moment, looking at her lap once again. "But I've been having strange feelings lately. I'm getting hungry mere hours after my last meal, and every minute I feel like I want to rush to the supermarket and get more food. Pretty funny for me, since before last year I'd never ate a single thing in my life."

Kuririn nodded laconicly, prompting her to continue. Juuhachigou took this cue in stride and continued without a loss in flow.

"It's always the strangest foods, too." She waved her hand conversaytionally. "Odd combinations that I'd normally find disgusting I'd suddenly develop a craving for. Like…say…peanut butter and clam chowder. Stuff like that. I tell you, it's…"

"Oh Kami!" Kuririn suddenly jumped out of his seat, sending the easy chair rocking back and forth without him. "Of course! This explains everything!"

"Huh?" Juuhachigou went wide eyed, a strange expression for her normally stone- cold face to handle. "What are you…"

"Woo hoo!" Kuririn cheered with glee, bounding over to her with a skip in his step. He quickly pulled the startled woman to her feet and began to dance; something in between a waltz and the jitterbug, though he wasn't aware of this. "This is great! This is fantastic!"

"Wha…" The confused Juuhachigou stammered, trying desperately to keep up with her husband's wild maneuvers before they both went crashing to the floor. "Kuririn-kun, what…?"

"Finally, after all this time!" Kuririn persisted with his crazy dancing, spinning around in a dizzy whirlwind of joy. "All my dreams are coming true! Whee…!"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU BABBLING ABOUT?!" Juuhachigou hollered at the top of her lungs, throwing Kurirn off of her, who fell to the carpet with a plop. She folded her arms, putting on the most cross scowl she could compose.

But this didn't cut off his smile as he quickly leapt back to his feet with old martial arts reflexes. With the same wide-eyed glee in his eyes, he told her the news.

"We're going to have a baby!"

"w-w-w-WHAT!?" Juuhachigou jerked backwards in horror, as if Kuririn has just told her that an intestinal parasite has crawled up her bowels. Her right heel knocked into the table, sending little Karin tumbling onto the carpet with a dull thud.

She stood rigid in place, facing the other with a look of astonishment in her face. "What on earth is a baby?!"

For a moment, Kuririn looked at her as if she was an idiot. Then he smiled with realization. "Oh yeah, the android thing!" he laughed good-naturedly. "Here, let me explain." He led her over to the couch and sat her down. Then he sat down beside her and turned to her, taking a brief breath before speaking.

"When a man and women get…physically involved," Kuririn explained cautiously, a bit like a parent educating a child. "a special thing happens. A seed is planted within that special woman, and this seed starts to make her tired."

"Tired?" Juuhachigou's eyes got huge, which the short man ignored completely, continuing on.

"Later on, as the seed grows, the woman starts to...um…get a little fat around the middle." He stuttered a bit, trying to break the truth as gently to her as possible. "For you see, something is maturing within her."

"Fat?" Her eyes got a notch wider.

"And later, much later, after about nine months, a glorious thing happens." Kuririn sighed rapturously. "The woman goes thought a process known as labor, and when it's over, a beautiful boy or girl is produced."

"You mean…" Juhachigou gaped in dismay. "…some 'thing' is going to crawl out of my…"

"Hey, it's not that bad!" Kuririn stood up. "In fact it's the most wonderful thing that could happen to us. Just think about it, Ju-chan. I'm going to be a father." Kuririn slumped back onto the couch, emotionally exhasted. "If only Goku could see me now..."

Kuririn looked back at his wife, and was saddened by what he saw. Instead of happiness, Juhachigou's face was wrought with shock and bafflement, as if she was totally opposed to the very idea of pregnancy.

He sighed forlornly. It was clear where Ju-chan stood on this issue. "You know…" he struggled to get out the words. "You don't have to keep this child if you don't want to. I mean…it's all your choice." He lowered his head. "You do what you feel is right."

Juuhachigou looked at the defeated expression on Kuririn, and her face soffened. "I'm sorry, Kuririn-kun," she said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "It's just that this is all so new. Being an Artificual Human dosen't leave you much in the way of sex ed, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Kuririn nodded slowly, still feeling depressed. Juuhachigou closed her eyes a moment, sorting out the pluses and minuses inside her head,

When she had come to a concencus, she looked back at him with conviction.
"Okay, let's do it," she said, a confident smile on her face.

"Ju-chan…" Kuririn's eyes filled with hope, a slow grin daring to burst onto his lips.

"Let's have a kid," she repeated. "I can tollerate being a vegetable for a little while. I mean, who knows?" That flamiliar eager spark twitched in her crystal irises. "It might be fun!"

"That's…" Kuririn's arms encircled the woman. "…that's awesome, Ju-chan! That's…"

"On one condition," Juuhachigou delicatly removed herself from her husband's embrase, putting her stubborn shell back on.

"Huh…what?" Kuririn asked her carefully, desperately clinging onto his hopes. "You name it, Ju-chan, and it's yours. Anything!"

"Well…" Slowly, Juuhachigou snaked an arm around Kuririn's neck, kneeding the soft flesh leading up and around his cranium. "Since I'm going to be an invalid for the next couple of months, it'd be important for me to get my kicks in while I can, so…" A mischivious smirk perked on her lips, vaugely carnavorious in nature, as she closed in on him.

Kuririn looked up at his wife with a sence of danger in his heart. Already she had crawled in his lap, and her lips were "You know, Ju-chan," Kuririn said, with a giddy sort of nervousness. "This might lead to even more children…"

"C'mon, midgit boy," she cooed rapturously, running her hand through his newfound hair. "Let's get 'physically involved.' Of course, I'll be on top, as always."

And as her lips touched his, Kuririn could think of only one thing: He had better still have some strength left over from his fighting days. Because this night, he was going to need it!

*****

Goku sadly walked away from Kuririn's condo, his hands within his pockets once more. The Nyoibo segments clinked in tandem with his footsteps, heartbeats, and heartbreaks. His black locks rolled in the twilight breeze, the strands agitating his tear-strung eyes. Fitting.

He came to another intersection, about thirty meters from the apartment complex. The traffic light was green for the moment, allowing the non-existent cars to bypass the intersection. And since the cars were non-existent, the curb was safe from any potential hazards.

The light's signal switched to yellow, and Goku slowly approached the curb site. Not bothering to check for any oncoming vehicles, he lowered himself to the concrete, setting his feet clumsily onto the ashen pavement. He situated and positioned himself, making sure he would be comfortable enough on the hard ledge.

And as the light turned red, Goku rested his closed hands on his cheekbones, his elbows on his sides, and his chin in his chest, once again contemplating the strange turns his life continued to take.

He had wondered why Kuririn refused to go on the Dragon Ball hunt. After all, he had as much of a stake in it as everyone else, certainly more than Trunks did. Now he knew: Kuririn didn't feel a need to reminisce about the past because he had a present, and a future to work and look forward to. He was happy; had no regrets.

(Kuririn dosen't need me.)

Why would he have regrets? He had a beautiful wife and a newborn child on the way. Sure, he was no longer the strong opponent capable of rivaling Goku; in fact, people had always believed Kuririn to be the weaker of the duo.

But in truth, he was much stronger that Goku was, maybe more that Goku would ever be. He understood his heart. He found what he was looking for. He kept it.

And Goku was alone.

(Kuririn dosen't need me…)

He looked for a moment back at the apartments just down the road, then quickly looked away again.

(I won't screw up anybody else's life.)

"Kuririn," Goku let his whispers drift from his lips into the silent wind. "You always wanted to be like me. But in the end, you were wiser than anybody gave you credit for. I wish…that I was like you…" He slumped back into his former position, drifting in his angst anew.

Some unknown time later, the rumble of an engine was heard just beyond the curvature of the road. It must've been a long time, Goku mused, for it was already quite dark outside. Indeed, the headlight's beam pierced through the fog cleanly, cutting through the darkness like an exacto knife. It tilted upward with the topography, then ran lateral as the vehicle came into full view.

Goku closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore the passerby. The last thing he needed was some dumb motorist to interrupt him from his sorrows with its annoying loud engine. His eyebrow twitched as he heard the transport approach his curb.

Then slowly, the deafening noise muffled to a low purr. Goku felt the afterwash of wind coat his form, sending his hair and jacket flowing with it. The smell of exhaust touched his nostrils, and his tongue tasted the bitter smoke emitted from the pipes.

Then he heard a voice.

"Hey there."

Goku jerked with recognition at the voice and looked up. Perched upon a large motorcycle was a young woman, with curly blond hair that rolled down her body with a full look to it. A red bandanna was tied onto her crown, giving the girl a bandit-like appearance, as did the large sack of bills tossed over her shoulder.

Her eyes were slim and narrow, accustomed to peeking behind the wall for any troubles.

But her mouth greeted him with a sly, yet sweet smirk. Sarcastic and sympathetic at the same time.

"Need a lift?"

*****

Author's Notes: Part 2 will be coming momentarily.

Until next time, Ja ne! ^_^