"Goten… wake up…"
The first thing Son Goten registered was the pain radiating throughout his entire body. Every fiber in his being ached, as if he'd been ripped apart piece by piece and then haphazardly stitched back together with a dull needle. He cracked open one eye and then the other. A face shifted in and out of clarity, but beneath the blood and bruises he recognized a familiar pattern of scars.
"… Yamcha?" He wheezed, the utterance of that single word demanding an extraordinary effort.
Ash and smoke permeated the air, the acrid scent stinging his sensitive Saiyan nose. The once-familiar streets of West City, reduced to burning storefronts and toppled skyscrapers, twisted and mangled beyond recognition. Overhead, a massive serpentine figure covered in shining emerald scales filled the darkened sky.
Shenron…
Goten couldn't stop the hiss of pain that slipped past his lips as his friend helped him into a sitting position. He looked down at his body, unsurprised to find his torso a mottled mixture of purple and yellow bruises. Dark splotches of red stained his skin and the tattered remains of his jeans and boots. The scent of iron was heavy in the air, igniting a flicker of dread in his belly.
"You alright man? Can you stand? You gave us all quite a scare back there.."
Yamcha's words faded into the background as Goten tried to string his thoughts together into something cohesive.
Slowly, he turned his head. Several yards away, his father addressed the mighty dragon in the sky from atop the remains of an overturned bus. Not much further, he spotted Piccolo moving through the debris to Bulma's Capsule plane supporting an unconscious Gohan. Crimson streaks stained his brother's usually jovial face and collared shirt. Just inside the hatch, Vegeta and Trunks were in equally bad shape, slumped against the interior wall.
They were alive.
Battered. Bloody. But all accounted for, all alive.
Except for one.
"Bulla?" He croaked out.
"We're still looking for her. I haven't seen her since…"
Goten's eyes darted from one pile of charred debris to another. Searching. Seeking. All the while, a relentless sequence of events replaying in his mind again and again. Each loop intensifying this cloying sense of desperation.
Harsh words exchanged like artillery fire. A door slammed so forcefully that its hinges quivered. Frieza's menacing golden form, floating above them all, a cruel smile playing on his lips as his henchmen fell upon the unsuspecting city below. Blaring sirens. Shouts of panic and the distant rumble of destruction all merged into a nightmarish scene that shattered the peace and stability he'd taken for granted.
A blinding torrent of light. Bone chilling fear. Pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. Someone crying out his name in the distance.
And then nothing at all.
A surge of adrenaline shot through him, burning away the last haze of disorientation. Goten surged to his feet, ignoring the sharp pang that accompanied the motion.
"Easy!" Yamcha censured, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Goten batted it aside, shoving past the scarred fighter. "Goten, we'll find her. You need to get on the plane. We're out of Senzu beans and you're in no condition to—Hey! Are you listening to me?! Goten!"
Without so much as a glance backward, Goten shot into the sky. His heart racing sporadically in his chest that he thought it might burst. The pounding echoed in his ears as he surveyed the silent horror below.
The scene on the ground was a nightmare. From above, he could see the full extent of the calamity that had taken their city. Extensive craters carved into the terrain, dozens upon dozens of crushed, overturned air cars, twisted streetlights, numerous dead enemy soldiers and civilians alike, and the ash that drifted from the sky like snow over it all.
The halfling drew in a deep, ragged breath, forcing himself to still his racing thoughts, reaching out, searching for that familiar glimmer of ki.
It didn't take him long.
It was faint, but it was there.
Goten dropped onto a large slab of concrete, a collapsed parking garage judging by what remained of the structure. He called out, the echoes of his voice bouncing off the broken walls. Goten stood for a moment, utterly still. There was no answer. But he could feel it, a tiny glimmer of life, its syncopated beats, soft and subtle, emanating from deep beneath the rubble.
He leapt into action, his hands moved with urgency, digging through the chunks of concrete, twisted metal rods, shattered glass, as though time itself was collapsing around him. In the silence, every sound and movement in the wreckage seemed amplified. The creaking of steel, the rocky debris shifting beneath his boots, even his own breathing.
Sweat gathered on his brow, his limbs growing heavier and heavier by the second.
And then he beheld it—a white-gloved hand—peeking out from beneath an overturned SUV.
Goten surged forward, a flicker of anticipation igniting within him. But as he lifted the vehicle, that hope evaporated.
Goten let out a snarl of frustration, tossing it aside.
The hand belonged to a blue skinned male. One of Frieza's soldiers. A stranger who had brought death and destruction to his home. His face was a gruesome sight, the emerald shards of his shattered scouter embedded in his left eye. He stepped over the corpse, scanning his surroundings before briefly he went right back digging through the crumbling remains.
Goten's desperation was rapidly reaching its tipping point. His hands were shaking. In his haste, he accidentally dislodged a large slab of concrete, triggering a mini rockslide that sent smaller chunks of rubble tumbling down.
Goten let out a series of wheezing coughs, throwing his arm over his face, trying in vain to shield it from the cloud of dust kicked up by the chaos of falling debris. When it finally settled, Goten cautiously moved forward to evaluate his surroundings.
His heart skipped a beat.
A ribbon of teal hair peeked out from beneath the newly revealed pile, fluttering in the breeze. He practically tripped over his feet in his haste.
It was Bulla, partially buried in the debris.
Dark circles rimmed her eyes, highlighting the youngest Briefs paler-than-usual complexion. Her full, rosy lips bore a split. Her chest plate and black leotard were a ripped, filthy mess. Her long, tangled blue hair streaked with dried blood and dirt, and her right leg was bent at an unnatural angle.
Goten's breath caught in his throat. The visual of Bulla's battered form struck him like a physical blow. He dropped to his knees beside her.
She'd sustained a head injury. Sticky red blood seeped steadily from a gash on her left temple.
She looked so small. So vulnerable. Fragile.
If she were an ordinary human, she would likely be dead now.
Swallowing his discomfort, he cleared away the remaining debris before carefully slipping a hand beneath her shoulders, lifting her away from the bed of rock and steel, cradling her against him.
Upon closer inspection, the wound at her temple was deeper than he'd thought. She required medical attention immediately. He had a Senzu bean stashed at his house. He just needed to get her there. The sooner the better.
She stirred in his arms, her brow creasing with discomfort. Her breathing was shallow and irregular. He raised a hand to smooth the tangled blue strands away from her heart-shaped face.
Her eyes fluttered open at his touch, and Goten froze.
Bulla's startled gaze drifted from his face, to Shenron's twisting coils, to the dead soldier unearthed in his efforts to locate her, and her body stiffened against him.
She slapped his hand aside, "don't!""
His eyes widened at her reaction.
She shoved at his torso, worming out of his hold with a violent ferocity that stunned him. She'd barely managed to drag herself a foot and a half away before a piercing scream escaped her lips as the reality of her broken leg made itself known.
"Don't... touch me," she whispered in a trembling voice. Startled blue eyes raked up and down his face hurriedly, fear blatantly obvious in them as they rested on his bloodied hands.
Fear? When had Bulla Briefs ever looked at anyone with such an emotion? Let alone him. Yet here she was, shaking and cowering like a rabbit in a trap.
"Bulla…" He said, keeping his tone even. "I'm here to help you. I would never hurt you. You know that."
For a moment, her attempt to shrink into herself ceased. The crease in her brow relaxed ever so slightly as she considered him, but there was a subtle wariness in the depths of her tired aquamarine eyes. "You and I… we know each other?"
Goten's heart sank and he forgot to breathe.
For a brief moment, he stayed perfectly still, kneeling before her, waiting for the recognition to dawn on her frightened face, but it wouldn't come. His gaze flicked to the gash at her temple, and his stomach twisted with worry.