AN: Man, Thanksgiving sure takes up a lot of time and energy. I made a thing, though. (fav . me /d9hyqj9)
The Next Dimension Over
Chapter Sixty-two
He expected some kind of terrible impact. What did an explosion even feel like? He was about to figure that out. At least he could learn something in his last moments. It wasn't something he ever wanted to learn about, if he was honest.
He closed his eyes on instinct...and something impacted him from the wrong direction.
He crashed into the floor just about the moment before the explosion rocked the corridor behind him. Hot air...didn't really rush past his head and...why? He peeked one eye open, and...found Yamcha, teeth grit and huddled over him. Which was...pretty weird.
Not that he didn't appreciate living, but, wouldn't Yamcha have gone for the girlfriend instead?
"Uh...?"
Yamcha gestured for him to be silent, and then jumped into the air. It was pretty impressive, actually. It must have taken some skill to be able to leap into the air and kick the big armor...robot...suit from a prone position like that.
It still didn't explain why Yamcha didn't seem all that upset by the ruined, charred hall where his girlfriend should have been.
"Hey, are you gonna help?" Yamcha glanced over his shoulder as the big metal thing crashed down face first with a mechanized shout.
"Oh." He...probably should do something. Now that he wasn't about to die in fire.
He stumbled up to his feet and charged the thing. "We just have to get that guy out of the cockpit, right?"
"That's right. He'll be harmless without it."
The thing scrambled on the floor, before it pushed itself up. "Tha...that's not true! Don't listen to him!"
It would have been a more convincing claim if it wasn't a pretty puny looking dog behind the cracked glass. And didn't have that much trouble standing back up from being knocked on its face. Even he stood up before it did, and he had a missile shot at him.
"Hey..." He glanced up at Yamcha. "Let's not let him do that thing again."
"Yeah. Let's not."
Worrying: the metal frame barely looked scratched from the explosion or crashing under its own weight. The glass did, though. So...at least he didn't need to test whether he could break through the metal with his own strength?
He glanced over at his taller companion. For someone who must have just lost someone close to him, he...looked not that shaken up at all. Huh. Maybe they were...fighting...?
Yamcha crouched, getting ready to attack as the arm of the robot leveled at them again. He sprinted forward, not waiting on the enemy to attack this time (not...that he'd planned on waiting the first time, either). If he could break the flame thrower, at least, they wouldn't have to worry about getting cooked. Or burning their feet.
He gave a great shout and his fist collided with the barrel of the flamethrower. The metal crumpled in slightly, bent and twisted...and seared the skin of his fist. "Gah!" He stumbled backward and clasped a hand over the tender red skin of his fist. It didn't do nearly as much damage as he expected it to, and the metal wasn't even dinged!
"Wolf Fang Fist!" The air howled somewhere behind him, and Yamcha appeared in a blur of white and blue. From the angle he stood at, he couldn't quite make out all of the strikes, but the glass cracked, heaved inward, and then finally shattered by the time the attack finished.
It was an impressive speed blitz. Not much compared to the Kamehameha, as far as a go-to move, though.
Not...that he knew how to do that one, yet, either. But eventually he'd get the hang of it. And...probably make something awesome for himself in the meantime. If his old master was right about how many years it would take to master that thing after all.
He'd get a cooler name for it, too.
He walked up next to where Yamcha stood, and looked up at the dog man the other now shook.
"So this is one of Emperor Pilaf's places, huh?"
Who?
"E-Even if you beat me, this place is too much of a maze! You'll never be able to find the dragonballs!" The dog's voice sounded a little more desperate than it did confident.
"Oh yeah?" Yamcha's expression turned into a smirk that...looked surprisingly sinister, for being the (ex-) boyfriend of a hot rich girl. But then again, the dog did just kill said girlfriend and his pet-friend, so. "Then I guess you'll just have to lead us there."
The dog made an exasperated sound. "Why would I ever?"
Yamcha lifted his free hand, and curled it into a fist.
(*)
How long were they wandering this place?
She'd lost track, after the fork in the road. For a while, she'd felt drowsy after being trapped in the room. For lack of anything better to do, she'd checked her body for toxins...but it seemed whatever had been in the room wasn't the same toxin at all. Which was...strange. Why would a flying fortress like this one have nonlethal traps? Perhaps the one in charge was concerned that their own men might be caught in it?
Except, where were those men? Even after setting off the trap and breaking out of it, they'd seen nothing.
It didn't make any sense. It almost seemed as if the people inside had abandoned the ship before they arrived. But...how could they have known? Were the dragonballs still even present, or had they wasted their opportunity and the zenni? This place was so huge, how would they even be able to know? And if their initial guesses were wrong, how long could they look before the people inside would figure out and evacuate then?
Damn...
If only she had some sort of a sensory jutsu. If she had...something.
If she had some way of helping. If...anything could have brought her back in time.
Even if she didn't fall...would she have been able to help at all? She hadn't done...anything. Ever since Obito gained the power of the ten tails, she hadn't been able to do anything but stand by and watch. They soared on ahead of her, shone like twin suns in the middle of the darkest night of the shinobi world, and the only thing she'd done was stand back and support them from a distance.
After everything...what had she done? What could she do? She was there, she was awake and she was there, and it didn't even matter! She couldn't stop Obito, she couldn't fight Madara, and she couldn't do anything when they fought Kaguya.
She couldn't even save herself.
Even if she were there, even if she never ended up in the wrong dimension, even if she were present to save them, what could she have even done?
Her teammates ran so far ahead of her now, reached the stars while she still stood on the ground so far behind them she could barely see them any longer, she couldn't even protect them.
She couldn't even save them.
If she couldn't even save them, if she couldn't stand in front of them, if she couldn't stand beside them, and she couldn't even reach them when they needed her, then...what was the point? What the hell was the point of anything she'd done?
Because, after all of it, they...
"Sakura?" Goku stared up at her, leaning up on his toes, brows tightly knit.
Pink obscured part of him.
Her hand, at some point, clenched in her hair, tugged at it, dug into the skin of her scalp. Her eyes burned with tears she hadn't realized she'd shed. At some point, apparently, she'd gotten so lost in thought she'd simply stopped walking.
When...did that happen?
"What's wrong?" He continued to frown up at her, squinting as if somehow he could figure out the answer merely by looking at her.
She forced her hand to release her hair and settle at her side. He was so focused on her face, probably he wouldn't see the tremor in her fingers.
No matter what the situation a shinobi must keep her emotions on the inside.
"I...I'm...I'm fine" She forced a smile. It felt weak and paper thin, but if she had time...she could force strength into it. She could summon warmth. She knew how to fake a smile. She had mastered faking a smile, because shinobi...shinobi...they...
"You stopped and started crying." He reached up and poked her stomach with his finger, expression concerned. "Is it all the poison? Are you still sick? Can't you heal yourself up?"
You must make the mission your top priority
She shook her head quickly, and carefully lifted her hand again to smooth her hair back. It had gotten too long. It was much too long. Her hair was much more manageable and short during the war. What kind of a serious shinobi let it get so out of control even when times were calm? She knew better than to do that.
Damn it, her hands still shook.
"I...really, it was nothing. I was just...remembering." Her gaze dropped to the ground briefly, stared down at shoes that weren't even hers, weren't anything like a shinobi would usually wear.
There was something important to do. She'd already decided. She existed. She existed, when no one else did, she existed when she couldn't do anything to save all of the people who went to their dreams believing that Naruto would save them, and believing she would protect Naruto.
She existed. And she was supposed to help Goku save that village.
She nodded, and started walking again, careful not to reach out to Goku to encourage him to follow her. He'd feel the way her hands trembled, think that she was still sick, and worry about her when...she was the last person who deserved to be worried about.
You must possess a heart that never shows tears
It felt as if, in only a few more moments, everything inside her might actually just shatter.
(*)
"So...um." He glanced up at the taller man.
Honestly, the guy seemed kind of strict and rough with the dog, but otherwise, he didn't seem to have any problem at all with his girlfriend and friend just being...exploded. Or roasted. Or whatever horrible unpleasant thing happened to them that they didn't even have bodies left afterward.
He wasn't really sure what to say, considering Yamcha had chosen to save him instead.
What did a person say in response to that?
Yamcha glanced down at him, eyes slightly wide, expression devoid of any stress lines he'd expect to see. If the guy resented him...he seriously hid it pretty well. Which was kind of creepy under the circumstances. "What is it?"
He glanced between the mandog with the slumped shoulders and the man who looked...normal.
"Uh...I just..." He rubbed at the back of his neck, grimacing. "I guess...I just...wanted to say something about the...uh...explosion..."
"Oh." Yamcha shrugged and huffed out air like it wasn't anything at all. "Don't worry about it. You can pay me back some other time, right?"
Okay, that was officially too weird. Even for this guy he barely knew. "You're taking the loss of your girlfriend and cat pretty well."
Oh, that was tactless. But he couldn't really help blurting it out. It was just there. The huge turtle in the room. And this guy just didn't even seem to care. It was freaking him out!
Yamcha blinked down at him. "...What?"
"What?"
Seriously.
What.
Did he block it out or...?
"Are you stupid?"
That...okay that was a girl what. And came from about Yamcha's groin level. He blinked and looked toward the voice. A...a tiny blue haired girl peered out at him with much irritation from his pocket.
Which...
Was...
Oh damn it. That stupid watch thing!
A moment later, that blue cat companion appeared in a puff of smoke. What had looked like a fly was...actually Pu'ar. Who must have stowed away at some point when...wait. He felt stupid, but he also just felt confused. When did he get the chance to do that?
"How...when did you even get there?" Well, Pu'ar made sense, being able to fly, but...how would Bulma get there?
She frowned up at him. It was kind of intimidating, for being from someone so tiny. "Isn't that obvious? I climbed in after someone started throwing flame everywhere. Of course the safest place to go would be with Yamcha."
Yamcha shrugged. "It was a pretty good idea, considering there's no other cover."
Well...
Well then.
Somehow he felt...not as bad, and also a little less special at the same time.
Weird.
"It's..." The dog spoke in a tired voice, looking over his shoulder at Yamcha. "They're in here."