All was quiet.
I stood out in the street, focusing on nothing but the energy of the world around me. Trying in vain, it seemed, to locate the murderer whom I knew was close by but still evaded me.
"What are you going to do?" Korravi asked from behind me somewhere. So far, she was the only life within a nearby radius. She had limped after me once I'd darted out of the building in my barely contained rage.
All we'd done had been for nothing. I hadn't even gotten the old man's name before that thieving bastard had made sure he wouldn't survive. And for what? Just to get at me?
Soulless son of a bitch was too afraid to fight me man to man. But I was going to drag him out one way or another.
Something tickled my senses. A presence, flickering nearby. For a second I'd been about to make straight for it, but then I paused because – no, it wasn't Daikon. It was –
"Trunks!" my best friend's voice distantly called, aura springing into clarity.
"Goten?" I murmured to myself.
Not a moment later, I spotted him in the sky, a dark bullet against the clouds. He dove for us and touched down skidding a few dozen feet away and then, without breaking stride, jogged over to me. He still wore the same thing I'd last seen him in, but his head was uncovered.
"What in all hell have you been up to?" he demanded, slowing as he neared. "We could feel you using the Ascended form and I thought something might have gone wrong!"
"I'm completely fine. We ransacked a prison and found a Saiyan survivor, but – he didn't make it. Daikon is here in the area somewhere, hiding his energy. Do you have any Senzu beans on you?"
"Woah, wait, one thing at a time. What..." He trailed off when I gestured at Korravi, and his expression became more pensive.
"She got hurt trying to free other prisoners. If you have anything to heal her, that would be helpful. I can explain everything else in more detail later," I said.
Goten's pause drew out as he seemed to be wrestling with something internally. Then:
"Can I talk to you alone for a minute?" he said.
"... Okay," I replied, a little thrown off. I turned to face the woman.
"Are you able to hang in there for a couple minutes? I need to talk to Goten," I relayed in case she'd missed it, extending my arm to her. "Here, I can sit you down somewhere."
After she gave a single nod, I took a moment to guide her to the nearest building and set her against it, feeling slightly guilty about having abruptly left her before. She could clearly walk, but there was no way it wasn't painful.
She thanked me and, without thinking it over, I gave her a bit of my energy before letting go. She looked up at me in surprise at the sensation but I was already moving away, back to Goten.
When I reached him, he said nothing and gave me a look. I raised an eyebrow.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing. It's just, uh, maybe we should go a little farther? Like, out of earshot entirely?"
"She can't hear us, 'Ten. She's... well, almost completely deaf, I think," I explained.
He looked at me, then raised his eyebrows. "Really? I mean, I thought that could be it, but I've never seen a Saiyan who... had anything like that. Though I suppose it's not something you can see."
"No. I'm not really sure about how or why, but – she mentioned something about being a failed experiment. To create someone with Broly's power through unnatural means. I'm assuming this was a long time ago and that she has no connection to the man we fought. Even if that was the case she doesn't seem malicious – she's been helping me actually, so what we ought to do is get her to the others for healing and let me deal with Daikon alone."
"Actually... that's the thing. I didn't just fly over here on my own. Bardock sent me, based on a vision he said he had. We found the PTO headquarters, but he said I needed to be here. He – I guess he doesn't think you should fight Daikon alone. I feel like both he and that woman didn't really need help so much as they want something from you. I think Bardock does too."
"I think it's fairly obvious that Daikon doesn't want my help. I won't speak for Bardock. He's your grandfather, for crying out loud. And Korravi – she may be a deserter but she's looking for someone she lost, just like I am. I had the same doubts you did, but I think if she's able to reason with Daikon, then maybe I won't have to take action."
"Yeah, but based on what we've seen of the guy, I doubt he's suddenly going to play nice no matter what she says to him. And if you follow that through, she's probably also not going to abandon him for us. They seem pretty close. Are you willing to fight them both?"
"In case anyone's noticed, I've become stronger than any single known being in the galaxy with the exception of maybe Frieza. I'm not in danger from a couple of Saiyan deserters, one injured by the way."
"No," Goten said, speaking softly, "you're not the one in danger."
The implication hung heavy in the air for a moment.
"I trained with the Ascended state for almost two years. I've been training in combat since I could walkand you've known me for almost as long. Don't tell me you're afraid of me killing someone by accident," I said.
Goten seemed to shrink in on himself further. "Bardock thinks it wouldn't be an accident."
"And what do you think? Do you honestly believe I'd go that far when I didn't have to? Come on, 'Ten! I just need to knock enough sense into Daikon for him to cooperate after, bare minimum. But he could be getting away the longer we speak."
"No, I just – I know you just wanted to help. I wanted to help. For all we know those two are the majority of the Saiyans left. They're your people. But there's a lot of pressure on us and it's not like its going to get easier going forward. The place you grew up was blow to bits, you've got the threat of the Colds over your head and on top of that you're trying to keep what's left of the Saiyan race together but... we couldn't even pacify the first survivors we came across! This is not at all what we thought things would be like when we left Earth. We're just wandering around hoping to stumble on answers, and -"
"What do you want me to do?" I snapped. "I have to figure this out, Goten! I have to figure out how to replace my father until I find him!"
"You can't replace your father because you're not the leader he is!" he blurted.
Immediately, his face softened as he took in the sound of his own words and put his hand over his mouth.
"Ah – I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he faltered, then reached out for me. "You know I wouldn't – I fucked up. What I meant was – you're not like Vegeta because..."
I batted his hand away.
He was right – he would never say that kind of thing to me and mean it. But he had said it. I could always trust him to be my voice of reason and Goten was not a liar. So even if it had come out wrong, that statement had come from somewhere. The thought made my throat close up.
Damn this. Damn this whole thing. I'd have enough of people fucking around with me.
"Daikon! If you can hear me, come face me! I want to talk to you!" I suddenly heard Korravi's voice echo over the ruins from somewhere nearby. Glancing to where I'd left her, she was obviously not there.
Maybe – maybe if he thought she was alone, he'd come out.
"Trunks, wait," Goten said behind me as he followed. I was walking away from him, towards the woman's voice.
"If you're not going to help, get lost," I said over my shoulder. It came out forceless and quiet, but the words themselves bit through the air and he slowed to a stop.
When I realized he really wasn't going to keep after me, I had to fight back the guilt, breaking into a jog as I moved after my target.
I waited as close as I dared without revealing myself, around a building corner where I could see what was going on. Korravi stood in the middle of the street, looking around, hoping her former companion would show up.
It was no more than a minute after that a form on a nearby rooftop caught my eye. It seemed her last-minute act of goading him to reason had worked, because there the man stood, drawn out of hiding by the sound of her voice.
He was splattered in several places with a patina of colourful blood, a stark contrast against the rest of his natural and unnatural dark features. Even from here I could see there was no sadistic glee, no thrill of adrenaline in his eyes like I'd expected. Just determination. And then –
There it was. My sword gleamed in his hand. Drawn. Almost as stained as he was. The scabbard rested on his back.
He leapt down from his perch and made a relatively graceful landing, never taking his stare off Korravi who – obviously – was unaware, still facing the other direction.
He took several steps towards her and for a moment I worried he was going to try attacking her blind spot, but then he paused some measure way.
"Oh, turn around already, you big oaf," I hear him mutter to himself before she coincidentally did just that a moment later. She froze in place upon seeing him.
"Ravi," he said. The scorn he seemed to hold towards everything that dared to exist within throwing distance atrophied when he looked at her.
"Daikon."
"You said you wanted to talk. So here I am..." He paused and glanced her over. "The hell happened? You have a giant open wound!"
"Nevermind me. What were you thinking? You took off without saying a word to me."
"I – there was nothing I could say to you. You wouldn't listen to me, so I left on my own. What the fuck have you been doing to get yourself hurt like that?"
"I got careless. That's all. But I'm not important right now. Tell me why you've done this."
"I've been doing what I need to – for both of us."
"Which is what, exactly?"
He stayed silent.
"Daikon... you're slipping out of control. You need to stop this now. Put that down and come here so we can talk properly – I'm not your enemy." She took a step or two towards him.
"Stay where you are!" he snapped. She stopped moving.
"I'm clear, Ravi. Clear as I ever could be. In fact I'm the one who's been considering what really matters here, while you're still stubbornly pretending this is some kind of game. This isn't a situation you can run away from whenever you fucking feel like it." His tone was angry, but aside from the exposed blade, his body language was not threatening. "I was counting on you following me. But we don't need to be here. You don't need to be here. We can go back to the way we were, somewhere the Colds can't reach!"
"You mean hide away like cowards. You have the nerve to lecture me on running after that statement?"
"No, I mean get out of this while we can! The woman I met always looked forward, marking her course on her own whims. Why are you degrading yourself to be a pawn in this half-breed's war?"
"I am exactly where I want to be. If you no longer want to be with me... if you're afraid of dying, then you can leave."
"I'm afraid for you! You know I'd follow you anywhere but I'm not going to sit here and watch you throw away all the things that I – throw away your life. Maybe it doesn't fucking matter to you, but it matters to me. Why won't you listen?"
"You... listen... to me," she grit out. "If I thought I was going to my death, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have brought you here either. Do you not trust me?"
"You're the only person I trust. It's them I can't stand! You think they give a shit about us? How could you believe in the person who took your grandfather from you more than you believe in me?"
There was a long and weighted pause.
"Oh... So that's why you're still here, isn't it?" he went on. "You think you'll get some form of closure? Or are you afraid if something happens to that so-called prince, your dear grandfather's sacrifice will become even more useless? And here I thought you might have just wanted revenge."
Still, she was quiet.
"Say something, damn it! I know you can understand me!" Daikon snapped.
"If you try to fight him," Korravi stated calmly, "you'll lose. That I know. And unless you return what you stole, you'll have no choice."
I stepped out. I'd heard enough to know she wasn't getting anywhere.
Then Daikon laughed, sharp and disparaging.
"I'm well aware the Prince of All Saiyans is stronger," he said mockingly, turning partway to face me and redirect his words. "Much stronger, in fact. But I've been fighting people stronger than me my whole damn life. And until this day, I'm the one who's been left standing."
"I was going to give you one more chance to settle this without a fight," I said. "If she was willing to try it, then there must be something in you capable of understanding. However, I can't make up for something that I don't even know I've done. To either of you. Stand down and tell me why you're doing this – you stole my sword and used it to kill one of our own. For what? What do you want?"
"That doesn't matter to you. What is going to matter will be the information that old Saiyan gave to me, before he died. If you must know, I didn't kill him. Or didn't you check that before storming off after me? The injuries he already had did him in – once he felt he'd done his duty towards a fellow survivor and told me where he thought the save haven was. Who knows if he's right or wrong? Maybe we'll leave that to Ravi..." Daikon trailed off.
He broke eye contact with me to turn back to her, just for a moment. Then, he started to speak. But not with his voice. His lips were moving in silence, forming words that were flying by everyone but her. In vain I attempted to see if I could make out even a syllable, but there wasn't enough time to even begin analyzing just one of the letter's shapes. It was a language meant for someone else – I hadn't realized how impossible it was after spending my whole life relying on... something as simple as sound. Even if Daikon was bluffing, it was maddening.
"Cut that out!" I finally snapped in frustration. "You must want something from me, or you wouldn't have gone through all this trouble for leverage."
"Hmph. What I've told her isn't leverage for me. Now this," he said, facing me once more and tossing my sword from hand to hand, "is what's going to help get me what I want. It's quite the masterpiece." He ran his eyes up the blade, twisting it in the grey light. "The edge hasn't dulled in the slightest, considering all those soldiers I hacked up. It can't be ordinary metal – no, you'd need a weapon suitable for killing gods on this quest of yours. Suitable for killing Frieza or anyone else as strong as you."
"I don't know about that. My last one broke when I overestimated its abilities against a stronger opponent. I'd caution you against being so reckless – a sword is only as good as the one who wields it."
"Care to find out how good I am, you half-breed freak?"
"You have some nerve calling me a freak when those marks you've defaced yourself with make you look like some kind of demon."
He blinked in surprise, and then snarled. "You think I did this to myself?"
"I wouldn't have put it past you."
"Fuck you," he said. "You don't know shit about me."
"And you don't know shit about me, but you're so full of hatred you decided to project it on me just because I rub you the wrong way?"
"Yeah, you fuckin' rub me the wrong way. But I know your type. You're everything I hate, wrapped up into one self-righteous prick. You say you're going to rescue your father and kill Frieza, but you have no resolve. It's idiot fucking ideologies like yours that get people killed!"
"The hell are you talking about? Frieza destroyed my planet! He held my father enslaved for most of his life! He's targeting my people for a genocide and is responsible for the misery of millions -"
"You've never saw him do this. You never saw him do any of this shit let alone experienced it yourself! All you have against him is that he maybe has your father captive – not even murdered – and been told terrible things he's done that you have no direct connection with. Quit pretending you're some force of justice and just admit it: you couldn't give less of a fuck about anyone's loyalty for you when you aren't even doing this for you!"
"How could you possibly know what I feel?!" I snapped.
"Because it's all over your face! It's how you act! If you really believe the Colds are tyrants and they're the force of evil, why haven't you been killing any of their soldiers? Those people cast their lot with your enemy but there's not a spot of blood on you!"
I tried to retort something, but nothing came out.
"Are you even prepared to take Frieza's life? I sure as hell don't think you're capable of that. You act like it's due to you being on some moral high ground, but it's because you have no personal stakes in this war except your shallow pride. And that's why Frieza's going to mop the floor with you. You aren't prepared to sacrifice a damn thing," he spat.
He was wrong. He was wrong, he was wrong, yet I had no words to articulate why. I only felt seething rage, coursing from my chest and through my body until it was forced to halt at my clenched hands.
"You can break as many of my bones as you like, half-breed, but you won't kill me. And it's not because you want the information I have. It's because it's not your body that's weak... it's your spirit. You're unwilling to do what's necessary because you're not a prince: you're naive and you're a coward, afraid to sully yourself for another's sake. And it's going to get us all killed."
I knew he'd said what he did to get a rise out of me. It was what he wanted – me angry so I'd get reckless. Even so, at its core, the provocation damned us both.
If I'd been able to feel pity at that moment, I might have. Not for myself. For him, because I was in the mood to grant his wish, and I couldn't stand there and accept a single putrid word that had come out of his mouth and ingrained itself in my mind.
"If you want me to kill so badly," came a tight, low growl that hardly sounded like my own voice, "maybe I should start with you."
Without fully realizing I'd moved, I was in front of him. He barely had time through his shock to raise the sword to block my punch, and I felt my knuckles hit the flat of the blade. The metallic ring sang across our surroundings and dust scattered, the force of my attack having pushed Daikon back several feet until he skidded to a stop, blowing far past Korravi.
I didn't wait for him to recover, darting forward again. He was more prepared this time and I had to halt a few arm lengths away to avoid the sword tip that hissed through the air a breath away from my chest. He didn't stop there – to keep me at a distance, he manoeuvred the blade almost as skilled as I would have, slashing back and forth just fast enough to keep me dodging. He clearly had some background in swordsmanship, though brief observation of his form and grip indicated a different style, perhaps more suited for a curved blade. Something I could use against him, if I would even need it.
Another swing at my head. I leaned back just far enough to avoid it and then sprang my legs up, right foot striking his wrist. His arm snapped up and set him off-balance, and I used one of my arms to push off the ground and twist so my other boot could catch him in the ribs. The force pushed him back but he managed to keep ahold of his balance and the sword.
From the angle of my attack I'd landed flat on my hands and feet, inches from the ground but without taking my eyes off my opponent. He was already diving back at me and slashing downwards so I sprang up and aside and the blade cut into the ground, but it was shallower than I'd anticipated and with surprising speed he whipped it back across and it caught me across the upper arm and then, using the inertia of his swing, flipped the hilt into a reverse grip to use both his fist and the pommel to bash me in the jaw.
The gouge on my bicep was shallow and the blow to my face would be no more than a bruise, but they had caused me to stagger back – perhaps a little in shock that I'd somehow let them land at all.
Instead of pursuing me, Daikon paused for a moment while the sting of his attacks sunk in, waiting for me to retaliate.
Oh, how I wanted to give him all he'd asked for and more. I wanted to break his bones. I wanted to break his face until he couldn't spew any more of his vile, repulsive garbage in our ears. I felt it so strongly any misgivings of my conscience were swept from my mind like dead leaves in the wind, all except for one that refused to leave my peripheral mind. One that refused to let go of why.
Why would he want to keep provoking me to transform? If he had any tricks up his sleeve then he would be using them now, while I was in my weakest state. Was he just that arrogant or stupid?
His eyes never wavered from mine. There was indeed an intelligence behind them, but – also a strange glint. The look of someone standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering over the irreversible drop.
"What's the matter, Your Highness? Nobody ever dared to hit that pretty face before?" he mocked. "I can take the piss out of you all day, so unless you quit fucking around and give us both the satisfaction of seeing your true power, you'll never be capable of breaking me."
Some part of my pride had wanted to take him down without transforming at all. Some part of me had still wanted to hold back, just to show him that he couldn't get to me. It was then that I decided maybe it didn't matter. Maybe with a man like him, there really was only one way to get through – by crushing him.