Pursual
Chapter 2: Trouble on the Road
Edit from the chapter 30 future- I'm cleaning up the pursual arc. My writing has improved a lot from these days and I'm making edits to reflect that. This chapter should now read like it was written by a human.
AN: Hey everyone/no-one/an indeterminate amount of people! In my rush to put out the first chapter I never put in an author's notes section nor formatted properly. This is my first ever time writing a story for other people, and I really appreciate any reviews or comments you have. I've a got a lot of stuff in mind for this story, so I hope you'll stick with it while I learn the ropes. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Kakarot was in no rush to leave the pool of water he was laconically floating on. It was in this pool of water, after all, where it first began; where the earliest reaches of his memory took root.
It was here where he fell down off the edge of the waterfall above, shattering his arm against the submerged boulders below the surface of the pool, leaving him howling in agony. Kakarot spent hours immobilized by pain before a man stumbled onto the scene, a wooden pole with two hanging wooden buckets lying flat over his shoulders.
This old man, bald but graced by a big bushy mustache, dropped what he was doing and ran over to Kakarot. He swept him up into his arms and brought him to his home, nursing him back to health. Of his own accord, the old man took Kakarot in, making him one of his own. He provided food, a roof, and a bed for Kakarot- more all novel experiences.
And Kakarot hated the old man for that. Rage, even indignation, consumed Kakarot's thoughts on the existence of this weak, merciful fool. To care for someone without no consideration of the threat they posed was insane. The old man may as well have adopted a fully grown bear. I am a Saiyan, and-
Kakarot let slip from his face his mask of rage. Curiosity rushed into where anger had been. What exactly is a Saiyan? Why do I even know that word? The old man never said it. Not when he was fading away-
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts These are useless thoughts. It didn't really matter where the word came from. What mattered was that he was a Saiyan and that that old man was, decidedly, not. No Saiyan would act like he would. No, the old man, no matter how similar he looked to Kakarot, was different.
I spent years with him, studying him, studying his language and his customs. In essence, studying a people completely foreign to me. He prepared for, well, something he knew had to be done. He had prepared to kill him.
It proved to be inconsequential in the end. One day, while Kakarot slept, the man simply… disappeared. But that wasn't the strangest part. For some reason, Kakarot had a feeling, a memory of the man dying- but it felt so distant and unknown, like so much else in his life.
Some days, he doubted his sanity. So much of his behavior seemed to be driven by unconscious desires, underwater currents coursing through his brain, their origins or causes unknown to him. The other day, he had walked up to a deer and impaled it with his hand. He couldn't provide a reason for why he did this. In that moment, it felt like something I would do… but now, I'm repulsed by it.
Slowly, he raised and examined his right hand, focusing his mind to a point in the middle of his palm. A small glowing ball steadily emerged, blue and cool. And what about this? I have power, but why? Of all the life I've seen, why alone do I have this? I feel as if I could kill something by tripping on it. This… strength, or whatever it is, is incredible, but for some reason I feel disinterested by it, almost repelled. Kakarot closed his fist, dissipating the ball of ki, and relaxed his hand back into the water. There are so many things I don't understand…
Sighing, he made his way back to the edge of the pool, climbing out of the water to stand on the forest floor. He shook himself dry, tail wagging alongside his body. When he was mostly dry, he made his way over to his pack and rummaged through it until finding his clothes- a simple cotton shirt and pants, both colored a faded brown. While dressing, a final question floated into his head.
Who was that other man I killed?
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
On a dusty desert bluff, where wind blew across in steady waves and threw up sand into every crevice and crack, a lone figure stood watch, their eyes watching the horizon. He was dressed in true desert attire; cloth rippling in the wind covering his chest and legs, broken by a sash tied around his waist. He wore the colors of the land, his clothes taking on the color of the sand underneath him. Windswept hair fluttered on his head as his eyes finally turned towards the road stretching out and past the bluff he stood upon. A jeep sped down the road, on course to run directly into his trap.
Smiling, the bandit descended to meet them.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Krillin tapped the dragonball radar, confirming what he was seeing. Behind him, a blip was steadily moving away from him (admittedly more him moving away from the blip than the other way around). Every day, he had asked Bulma for the radar, to methodically check that they were, slowly but surely, putting Kakarot and his dragonball behind them. That death, that horror, behind him.
Admittedly, there wasn't much to do other than that when they were driving. In the several days they'd been on the road, a routine for both of them had developed. Roll out of bed in the morning - which for Bulma entailed a modern capsule house, while Krillin slept in a modest tent from the temple - and check the dragon radar to confirm the blip they were tracking was still in the same place. Wolf down a capsule-breakfast (which had become the slightly unpalatable stuff of every meal they ate), pack up camp, and set off on the road for the day. After a while, the ground passing underneath the jeep's tires began to blur together in one long, unending reel.
Krillin decided that in his free time he would train, or at least, try to train. It was unclear to Krillin how to actually do that. He never got far enough in his stay at the Orin temple to receive any real training; instead, all he learned to do was meditate, which frustrated him more than anything else. As long as he could remember, he had an incredibly hard time clearing his mind. His mind simply refused to relax; no matter how hard he tried, a seemingly endless flow of fear and anxiety would drip through his consciousness. Now was no different. While stuck in the jeep he would often try for hours to achieve a meditative state- but no matter what he did, five minutes would pass and he would have given up, resigning himself to watching the world pass by as Bulma drove.
On the plus side, the small amount of physical training he was able to do at the beginning and end of the day seemed to be giving disproportionate gains; the other day, after Bulma had ducked into her house and locked the door to avoid pre-agreed cleaning duty, he had accidentally dented the metal door with his frustrated knocking. After that, he had been almost scared of his own strength, mostly because without an ounce of training, he didn't feel confident at all in controlling it. Really, he felt more like a wild animal than anything else, something acting on instinct and gut-feeling. An image of Kakarot flashed through his head. Well, not entirely...
As the days went on the land around them slowly grew more open; trees and plants became more and more sparse, as the dirt lost its rich, brown hue and took on more tones of grey and faded yellow. Krillin realized, belatedly, that they had driven into a desert.
Krillin looked over at Bulma, who had put on a thin-brimmed hat with goggles that had a long veil of fabric extending down the backs and sides of her head. His own attire, he realized, was woefully ill-equipped for the desert- his eyes began to sting from the flying airborne sand.
"Bulma", he said while tapping her shoulder with half-closed eyes, "is there any chance you have a second hat like the one you're wearing?"
Bulma's head rotated towards Krillin slightly. "Yea, one second," she replied, reaching down to a compartment between their legs.
In retrospect, this was a horrible time to not be watching the road.
The car violently shook, then began to spin, as Bulma's gaze shot back towards the road and she desperately tried to keep the car from plunging into the sand dunes flanking the road. For a few seconds Krillin was convinced the jeep was going to flip, taking both him and Bulma to an early grave. Thankfully, after a few moments of wild chaos, the car settled in a slowing spin that screeched to a stop not ten feet from a dune.
As soon as the vehicle stopped, Bulma stood up and twisted around in the car, looking up the road to where they had come from. After a moment of looking, she wrenched her goggles off her head and threw them down to the ground. "I'm going to kill someone!" she screamed, slamming her arms on the back of her seat.
Calming his beating heart, Krillin tentatively stood up and glanced to where Bulma had been looking. Squinting, he could see a field of metal spikes carpeting the road the jeep had driven over. He leaned out over the car door and saw the front tire on his side was flat. That's one mystery solved. As he was turning to Bulma, Krillin noticed her attention was focused on something farther down the road in front of them. He followed her gaze.
A lone person stood in the middle of the road, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. The lower half of his face was wrapped with a thick sash. He held up two drawn scimitars, pointing them at Bulma and Krillin.
"Now," he stated, "unless you want to end up like your car, I suggest you hand over everything you own, now."
This bandit was about fifty feet away. It was hard to hear him and even harder to be intimidated.
"What?" Bulma called out, "What did you say?"
Krillin blinked. Suddenly, the man was right alongside the car.
"What I asked," he continued in a lower tone, "is for you to hand over everything you have, now." Unfortunately, as close as he was to them now, Krillin could clearly see the sweat beads rolling down his forehead.
I wonder what's the optimal distance for banditing... hmm, Krillin internally mused. Something to consider another time.
Bulma clearly saw the same thing. "A make-believe bandit, eh? Well good." She taunted. "I was looking for some functional entertainment How about you fight my associate here, and if you defeat him, I'll hand over everything I own."
Krillin's jaw dropped. "What!?" His eyes practically bulged out of his head. "Are you talking about me? Me, fight him? Why?"
"If you can't fight a half-assed thug then how are you going to get a dragonball guarded by someone strong?" The more she spoke, the deeper her scowl became. "How are you going to get a dragonball from him? Consider this my test of whether or not it's worth it to bring you along. I'm tired of your moping butt- and if you can't dispatch a common criminal then there's no point in keeping you around."
Krillin couldn't really argue with that. He sighed, unlocking his door and climbing out of the now useless car. Shoulders slumped, he walked around to the front to face the bandit. Other than the height difference and the weapons at the man's side, appearance-wise he couldn't see much of a difference in strength between them. In fact… "Hey! Drop those scimitars! It's not fair if you have a weapon and I don't!"
The bandit visibly blanched. "I… what?"
"You heard me! Drop those weapons! If we're going to fight we're going to fight fair!"
The man looked visibly saddened by this turn of events. "Oh… I really liked these scimitars... been practicing with them for months… Wait! I have an idea! How about I give you one? That way we both have a weapon."
"Yea, that sounds fair to me!" Krillin was about to accept the scimitar from the bandit when he realized something. Frowning, he batted the offered weapon away. "Wait a second! You've been training with those scimitars for months! I've never even heard of a scimitar before! How is that fair?"
Withdrawing the weapon, the bandit seemed to have recovered his composure. Confident? He's devised a plan, then, Krillin thought. "That's fine," the bandit replied. "Guess we'll fight the old fashioned way; hand to hand."
Krillin nodded. "Fine by me." Time to employ another good ol' fashioned tactic; bluffing. Krillin settled into a stance he had seen one of the more illustrious monks at the temple use. Of course, he himself had never used it, but he has seen it enough times to recall at least the starting position.
To Krillin's relief, the bandit assumed a pose that clearly showed he had no idea what he was doing. Which made it all the more shocking when the bandit blurred from sight and kicked Krillin to the side, embedding him into a sand dune head-first. Shaking off his confusion and disorientation, Krillin propped his arms against the dune and unsuccessfully tried to push himself out. Welp, this isn't encouraging.
When he saw Krillin wiggle his feet to break free and roll down the sand dune, the bandit mentally panicked. What!? That was was nearly my strongest kick! How is he still moving? I've launched rocks the size of my head fifty feet with that kick! What is this kid made of?...
The bandit furrowed his brows, studying Krillin as he moved back into the stance he had taken earlier. Maybe it's that pose; it looks legit. If he knows martial arts, then there's a good chance he's trained himself to be really strong. He might kill me! Of all the people I choose to start my bandit career with... Gulping, the bandit steadied himself, positioning himself ten feet away from Krillin.
Krillin felt a tide of panic rising, but pushed it down. No, I've still got a chance. Just hit the guy a few times and maybe it'll turn out he's all bite but no bark… tree bark, that is. That's something durable, right? Shaking off his confusion, Krillin closed with the bandit. A fist flew out from Krillin which hit the bandit square in his block, slightly pushing him back. The bandit responded by getting low to the ground and sweeping his right leg out in a semi-circle. Bending both legs, Krillin hopped into the air to avoid the sweep. This, however, was exactly what the bandit wanted. He used his position on the ground to pivot on his left foot and bring his right leg back around, colliding with Krillin's unguarded, jumping body and sending the former monk flying for the second time in the fight. This time, however, Krillin managed to recover in midair and land on both feet with a tac.
Both fighters stared each other down. This is actually going surprisingly well, Krillin thought. I'm not that injured and that simple sequence of moves seems to have left that guy winded. My initial thought was right- he's untrained.
Ten feet away, the bandit was furiously thinking. It's just as I feared. This guy's way durable! I'm going to have to pull out all my tricks if I'm going to beat him. He glanced at something behind Krillin. I was hoping I wouldn't have to bring her into this, but I have no choice!
Smiling, the bandit shifted his position and turned his body slightly away from Krillin. He methodically moved his hands through his hair, shockingly and incongruently vain for what they were currently doing.
Krillin watched, utterly lost. What the hell is he doing?
Bulma, who at this point was still standing in the jeep, was grudgingly captivated for an entirely different reason.
As quick as he started, the bandit stopped, once again settling into his impromptu guard. "Hope you're ready for trouble!" he said, flexing his arms.
A hand clamped down on Krillin's shoulder. "It's about to double!" a voice behind him yelled.
Krillin slowly turned around, to find himself staring at an exact copy of the bandit. Wha-
Once he'd turned around, the original bandit had charged him, hitting him with a two-handed fist to the ground, then missing his stomp when Krillin rolled away. Face down in the sand, the gears began to spin in Krillin's mind.
The original bandit moved back next to his double. "Remember my name! This is what happens when you mess with the legendary desert bandit Yamcha!" From where she was, Bulma thought she had seen the second figure's twitch an eyebrow, but she wasn't quite sure.
Krillin slowly clambered off the ground, then rose into a standing position facing away from them, brushing dirt off his clothes as he did. "Now," he spoke, "I'll be honest, that was a pretty good ruse". He turned to them, so he could savor the shock he knew he was about to see. "But you two made a very crucial mistake. If you're going to sell the doubling of something, make sure you have the details down pat. Specifically looking at you,' he pointed towards the left bandit, "second 'Yamcha', or whatever your name is. I don't think my opponent had whiskers."
The second bandit glared, then snarled, as the illusion quickly broke apart. In a final poof of dust, the double disappeared and was replaced by a floating cat, still visibly fuming at Krillin.
Honestly, that's more weird than the double… Krillin scratched his head. "I assume you were going to try and scare with that second you. What, were you going to move in unison or something? Maybe do some synchronized dancing?" He paused. What's happening? Are we actually fighting? Were we even fighting to begin with? Hmm... "Hey, are we still fighting?" Krillin checked.
The remaining bandit growled. "Yes!"
The two rushed forward, the bandit seizing the initiative by launching a flurry of swipes and strikes. Anger, however, while speeding up his attacks, drastically lowered his accuracy.
"Why! Can't! I! Hit! You!" He bellowed, trying to hit Krillin with an overhead double-fist that Krillin side-stepped.
So this is what it feels like to be on the winning side of a fight… I should have gotten him angry a long time ago… Krillin continued to evade the bandit's attacks, until spotting an opening in Yamcha's frantic pace and stepping in closer. He slid his foot in front of the bandit, stopping the bandit's moving right foot. Yamcha was thrown forwards and slammed in the jaw by an uppercut, knocking him back a couple feet. Yamcha toppled and slammed his back into the ground with a thud.
Was I really worried about this fight? This guy is a pushover. Krillin casually walked over to the splayed out bandit.
On the ground, bruised but not beaten, Yamcha raged. This can't be happening! The first person I try to rob and they're almost superhuman! Blinding fury had nearly overwhelmed Yamcha when he remembered he still had one more trick up his sleeve. Oh. How could I forget that? The bandit steadily rose, wiping was blood from a cut on his jaw. Expressionless, he settled into an entirely different pose, facing the approaching Krillin head-on.
If this trick is as bad as the last one, Krillin thought, then I'm fine. He continued his calm walk forward.
The bandit started growling, drawing his features into a dark visage. His eyes began glittering like jewels on his face. Suddenly, a blue aura exploded out of Yamcha. Krillin was stopped dead in his tracks. This… this move is- it has ki! Something only the masters ever used! Trembling, Krillin drew up his arms into a block, expecting the worse.
His face a mask of wild ferocity, the bandit continued growling, making the aura around him more and more jagged. He pulled his arms into his body and clenched his hands, looking back and forth between his fists and Krillin. "This, this is my final technique! The technique that will finish this!" He intricately twisted his hands, forcing them to look like a mouth about to bite. "WOLF! FANG! FIST!"
In the blink of an eye, the bandit launched forward, fists enveloped in the blue aura that had surrounded his body. Spreading his fingers out to form two claws, Yamcha closed on Krillin's head, landing two simultaneous blows on the top and bottom. Stunned, Krillin was thrown back into the air by another series of punches that pummelled into his body. In the air the bandit pursued, raining down an onslaught of blows that decimated any guard Krillin attempted to throw up. By the mid-way point of the technique, it was obvious that the former monk had passed out from the pain.
The bandit didn't stop. He was angry, and he wanted to avenge his humiliation at the hand of this upstart. Fists drove Krillin higher and higher into the air, his body becoming almost ethereal as the technique reached its climax. After a final sequence of fists, the bandit drew his arms back, his hands side to side in an open position. With visible effort he pulled the last of his aura from his body and channeled it into his outstretched palms, and then with a mighty push, he slammed into Krillin's body, sending the former monk flying for a good ten feet before falling to the ground, unconscious. In the space of about four seconds, the bandit has utterly destroyed his opponent.
Satisfied, the bandit let his arms drop, admiring his handiwork. Then, he realized his arms were still dropping, eventually landing on the ground with his body in pursuit. Guess I pushed myself a little too hard...sorry Puar. Exhaustion took him and he blacked out.
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It was a strange scene for Bulma to take in. Both Krillin and the bandit were out cold. A decidedly weird ending to a very weird fight. I guess it fits. She looked over to the bandit again, noticing the cat now hovering over him, concern evident on its face. No you don't! Bulma jumped out of the jeep and ran after the cat. She succeeded in capturing it when Bulma tripped and fell, her hands snaking around it as they both collided with the ground. With her body bruised but her pride intact, Bulma moved her hands out from under her and clasped her grip around her prisoner. They have their way, I have mine.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
In a dark, old basement of an annex long forgotten to the world, a computer screen lit up. A young woman, who had been sleeping in a cot to the side of the room, woke up and rose out of bed. She saw the computer blinking and walked over, and picked up the phone from its mantle nearby.
Her voice belayed a singular confidence. "Yes? Commander Red? What is it? You do know what time it is over at this part of the world, right?" Chatter. "Oh. I see. Well, are you sure?" Angry chatter. "Yes, yes, I see. Hold on, I'm pulling up the document now." With one hand she pulled up a file on the computer and began skimming its contents. She gasped. "What? These many units? It was my impression that we were going to wait a few more years, get a bit more funding. What changed?" Silence. Then, slow speech. "An entire village? I can't believe it... Yes, I know, the base in the village was more important the village itself, but still. Uh-huh. Yea. Alright. We're green to go, then." A single word, drawing forth a smile from the woman. "I'll start the calls. I'll contact you once they're done. Mhmm. Good luck to you too, sir." She hung up the phone. She sat down to face the computer, eyes burrowing into the information before her.
"And so to war we go."
