Disclamer: Don't own DBZ but own Zero

The raven-haired youth staggered in the rain, people shoving past him, pushing him aside. His long black hair whipped violently in the strong winds, and with nimble fingers he pulled his black trench coat tighter against him, giving him a false sense of warmth.

Someone shouted a curse at him as he fought his way past, but his mind did not catch the word. He stumbled onwards, his wild hair clinging to his face. An elder lady looked on in pity, wondering if he was hurt. And maybe he was, but his face showed no emotion.


He deftly walked out in the streets, not batting a dark eyelash as horns blared and drivers yelled for him to move. More eyes shifted to the strange boy crossing a busy street, but as he reached the other side, his face was still blank. No one could see his eyes, hidden behind dark shades.

A young girl pointed towards him, tugging at her mother's leg, inquiring if he was injured. Her mother told her he was probably just sick, and the boy's emotionless gaze flicked to them, standing side by side in the cold rain, hand in hand, waiting for the bus. No one would ever stand by him like that, hold his hand. Assure him that he was just sick. He turned his gaze away, and continued to his destination.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, wishing that he could feel the dampness. He stumbled past a train station, people grumbling and shoving him aside as they hurried to get to there destination. He said nothing, even as a large man shoved him roughly against a wall in his hurry to get past. No, the young boy kept walking, hands in his pockets, gaze down, as a TV was turned to an announcer that was talking about the cell games starting.

Some thought he was sick; others injured, and still others mentally ill. But it was doubtful even he could tell you why he staggered so blindly through the crowds, gaze down, being shoved aside so carelessly and never saying anything. Not even he could tell you why his hands shook, and his shoulders shack.

Finally, he stopped in front of an iron gate, staring hard at the sign. The gates groaned in sadness as he pushed them open, wandering into the dark fields. Almost no one stood around, and those who did where quiet. His back straightened as he approached one small corner of the field, almost invisible. It lay hidden between two thriving bushes, barely visible to the public and uncaring eye.

Staring down at the tombstone with a tarnished pendent hanging there lifelessly, tears suddenly filled in the boy's eyes. He ripped off his dark sunglasses, uncovering two deep black eyes; his tears mixing with rain as they streamed down his cheeks. He crumpled to his knees in front of the small cross, staring at the name blankly. He let his eyes travel downwards, reading the words he knew so well. 'Beloved'. Again, he looked up at the name, as if he couldn't accept that it was there. But it was, as it would always be: Marseille.

Zero stood suddenly, replacing his dark sunglasses and turning away from the grave. He walked away then, his hands in his pockets again, eyes down. Beautiful, soul-filled black eyes that were doomed to be filled with regret, always. As he now knew what he had to do.

What do you think to sappy or what click the botten and tell me