Dragonball Super Z http://hometown.aol.com/juuhachigouda/dbszfic.html By: Juuhachi-gou and MiraiBulma Dragonball Z Walking On The Sun: Prologue "It Ain't No Joke" It ain't no joke I'd like to buy the world a toke And teach the world to sing in perfect harmony And teach the world to snuff the fires and the liars Hey I know it's just a song but it's spice for the recipe ~*~ "Oooo, there goes a good one!" Shiro nodded, watching the streaks of light cut across the night. "You having fun, Megumi?" The littlegirl clapped her hands. "Hai, oniisan! It's so pretty. Thank you for talking otousan and okaasan into letting me stay up so late!" "Well, it is summer vacation. If it was school time you'd probably still be in bed by now." Shifting a bit, Shiro balanced his little sister a bit more steadily on his shoulders and pointed. "Hey, look at that big one!" "Uh-huh!" Megumi leaned forward. "It looks like it's coming right at us, doesn't it?" Shiro nodded, privately hoping that the falling star wasn't doing just that. *I mean, I've never heard of anyone getting hit by a meteorite, but that doesn't mean it couldn't happen... and that one sure DOES look close--* The fiery ball streaked down, and just as Shiro realized that the object was both a lot smaller and a lot closer than he'd thought, it shot down behind the hills near the Kodansha house and vanished, followed immediately by a clap of thunder and a tremor under his feet. Shiro staggered, fighting to keep from falling, and only barely managed by grabbing a nearby tree. "Megumi-chan! Shiro-kun!" a frightened female voice called out as the echoes of the thunder faded. "Over here, okaasan!" Sliding Megumi down off his shoulders, Shiro waved. In a moment their parents appeared, flashlights bobbing in the night. "We're okay!" "Okaasan! Otousan!" Megumi pounded towards the pair. "I saw it! A falling star! It landed right over there behind the hills! Please can we go see it, please? Maybe I can bring it home?" She started jumping up and down. "Please, pretty please?" "Megumi-chan, stay here with your mother." Mr. Kodansha nodded to Shiro. "Come on, son. Let's go have a look." "Be careful, Goro-san," Mrs. Kodansha said as she gathered up her daughter. "You and Shiro-kun both." "Awwww I want to seeeeee!" Megumi wailed as she watched her father and brother head up the hills, their lights twinkling like stars themselves until they topped the rise and vanished past it. "It probably landed miles away," Shiro said, looking around. "Mm, probably," his father answered. "But I want to know where it is, if it didn't. Megumi might slip off and come looking for it, and whatever survived the trip down will be pretty hot. I don't want her burning herself." "Hai, otousan." "Good thing it rained today, the ground should still be wet enough to keep any fires from spreading." Goro sniffed the air lightly. "I do think I smell smoke though. Let's head the way the wind is blowing and see what we find." After making their way through the woods for several minutes, having to backtrack and work around the undergrowth more than once, Shiro and his father came out in a clearing where one hadn't existed before that evening. Trees were leaning or knocked down in a ring around a crater about half again the size of their aircar. There was a definite smell of burning in the air, but not that of wood... more like... Shiro shook his head, not sure what it smelled like, just that it was familiar. "Otousan?" "Stay here." Goro moved forward cautiously, easing towards the center of the impact, frowning a bit. It wasn't nearly as hot as he'd thought it would be, barely hot at all, but then he wasn't a scientist. Maybe different kids of meteors held heat differently. Reaching the edge of the crater he shone his light down and froze. "Otousan?" Shiro tensed, imagining all sorts of horrible things. "What--" his voice shook and he had to swallow to get it under control. "What is it?" Mr. Kodansha turned slowly, face pale. "Shiro, go and get your mother," he said. "This isn't a meteor... it's a man. And I think... I think he's alive." ~*~ Part One "It Went Out But It's Back" This is a love attack I know it went out but it's back It's just like any fad it retracts before impact And it's just like fashion it's a passion for the with it and hip If ya got the goods they'll come and buy it just to stay in the clique ~*~ "Ara--I'm STUFFED!" Trunks got up from the picnic table, staggered away a few steps, and sat down on the grass, then laid back. "Anybody care if I just lie here for the next year or so?" "I can't eat any more either," Goten moaned, looking mournfully at the still loaded table. "And it's all so goood!" "Don't worry, Goten-kun, we can have the rest for snacks later," Gohan said, putting a hand on his younger brother's head and tousling his hair while the younger boy giggled. The slightest movement caught Gohan's eye and he looked over to see his father, elbows on the table, watching them both with deep fondness. Gokou smiled as Gohan looked his way, then picked up a chicken leg and balanced it on one fingertip, studying it. "You know...?" he said thoughtfully. "I think I'm not hungry any more either!" "Man, that's a first!" Kuririn turned to look back from his seat in front of the portable TV, where he was tuning in the National Sumo competitions. "You full, Gokou? Hey, that's like saying the sky's gonna fall!" "It certainly seemed that way last night," Bulma said, starting to cover up the picnic dishes. "I've never seen such a meteor shower. There've even been reports of a few striking the ground further to the east." "Un!" ChiChi, working on the other side of the table, nodded. "We were up last night watching it too. It was so pretty..." She clasped her hands. "I made a wish on the biggest one I saw!" "Really, ChiChi? What'd you wish?" "Maybe she wished Kakarott would get a brain," Vegeta muttered as he reached over for a beer. ChiChi clasped her hands, eyes sparkling. "No, I wished for something wonderful!" she sighed. "I wished that Goten would grow up to be a doctor!" "Demo, kaasan!" Goten protested as everyone else laughed. "I wanna be a fighter like tousan!" "Now that's enough, young man," ChiChi scolded. "You need to get a real job! And you can't get ahead in the world unless you have a good education." Gohan and Gokou exchanged glances again, smiling as ChiChi continued lecturing Goten. **Just like me, ne, otousan?** Gohan asked silently. **Hai, Gohan-kun**, Gokou answered the same way. **But it's okay. I bet Goten will turn out okay in spite of all the books!** "Supid thing! I can't get it to pick up the station!" Kuririn swatted the TV. "The antenna must be bad! And the news is almost over. The wrestling's supposed to start right after that." "Oh here let me." Bulma knelt by the TV, fiddling with the antenna and controls. "Might be a bit of interference due to the meteorites, a little extra ionization today-- ah, there we go." She leaned back as the announcer's voice came in: "...final item tonight, the unexpected celestial events last night seem to've consisted of more than meteorites. Unbelievably there is a report that a young man was discovered in a meteor crater late last night, in the area near Frypan Mountain. The farmers that brought him to the hospital claimed he fell from the sky, but this is patently impossible, as a fall of that distance would have killed a normal human being. "The young man is in serious condition and unable to inform authorities of his identity, since much of his clothing was badly burnt and no identification was found on him. Authorities are working on the case to determine exactly what happened; as yet there is no conclusive determination, although the possibility of some type of accident or assault has not been ruled out. We will keep you posted as events develop, including pictures when they are available, in the hopes that our viewing audience may be able to assist in locating his friends or family. That's our news for tonight... next, the National Sumo Wrestling Championship, hosted by the World Fighting Champion himself, Mr. Satan." "All right, here we go," Kuririn said, settling back. "If we can just ignore the commentary--" "Oh, Mr. Satan's not so bad," Bulma said, giving Kuririn a dig in the ribs and glancing meaningfully to one side, where Videl sat cooing to her and Gohan's newborn baby daughter. "For an idiot," Vegeta added, walking over to stare down at the TV. "This isn't wrestling. Where are the pits of molten metal?" "Maybe they ran out, " Gokou said helpfully, sitting on the grass. "Aaa, there's Yukinadare! I hear he's got good chances for winning this year." "Don't suppose you'd make a bet on that," Yamucha said, also taking a seat to watch. "Me? Bet? With what?" Bulma shook her head and waved a hand, walking away. "Men, they're such children," she commented to no one in particular. "Juuhachi-gou, would you and ChiChi help me clear off the table? I think the assault's done for now." "Can I help too?" Marron asked, jumping up from her seat. "Please, Bulma-san? Can I?" "Of course you--"Bulma stopped as she heard a small querulous sound from her purse. "Drat." Scooping it up, she reached in, drew out her cel-phone, and flipped it open. "Moshi moshi. --Yes, this is Bulma, how can I help you?.... Who? Sergeant Koishi? Hai...what?" She gripped the phone a little tighter, eyes widening as she listened for a minute. "You're sure it's a Capsule Corporation jacket?.... Hai.... And what serial number on the capsules? Yes, those are the kind normally sold only to our employees... I'll come at once." She clicked off the phone, biting a nail. "Is something wrong, Bulma?" Juuhachi-gou asked. "Yes--well, no, I don't know. Did you hear that last news item, about the young man they found near Frypan? That was the police officer investigating the case. He says that the young man was wearing a Capsule Corporation jacket and carrying some Hoipoi capsules that are coded for employee sale only. He's wondering if perhaps the boy's one of my workers, or the son of one of my workers, and wants me to come try to identify him." Bulma put a hand to her forehead and moaned. "This is the last thing I need, another lawsuit. I just know they're going to try to blame it on a faulty capsule or something." "Want me to come along with you, Bulma?" Yamucha said, standing. "It's not a problem, Puar and I will be glad to go." "Would you? That'd be great. I really don't think I'd better drive." ~*~ "Now, he's right down here." Nurse Ichigo paused. "I have to tell you, he's been making remarkable progress. We were able to upgrade him from intensive care to a regular hospital bed, but he's still in serious condition. So please, understand he may look rough, but at this time his life's no longer in immediate danger." "Thank you. I think we'll manage." Bulma steeled herself as the nurse swung open the door and led them in. The hum and beep of various monitors greeted her, along with the faintest smell of scorched cloth, overlaid with the sterile flavor all hospital rooms seemed to carry universally. She felt Yamucha's hand steal into hers and give it a quick squeeze before he let go, and she spared a moment to smile up at him gratefully. It'd been years since they were together, but he was still a wonderful friend. Gently Nurse Ichigo drew aside the curtains and let them up close to the bed. "Do you recognize him, Bulma-san?" Bulma looked at the prone figure in the bed, face still and pale against the pillow, and put a hand to her chest. Her heart seemed to freeze cold inside her, then leap up and hammer at the base of her throat. Trembling fingers stole out to brush back short bangs from the features that were scowling just a bit, even lost in unconsciousness. "Oh, Kami..." she choked, and would've collapsed to her knees if Yamucha hadn't steadied her. Though he didn't look much better himself; when Bulma looked up at him, his face was almost as pale as the bedsheets. Mustering her last bit of strength, she turned to the nurse. "H...hai. I know him...it's....it's my son. Trunks." "Oh my," Ichigo said, then collected herself as well. "Gomen nasai, Bulma-san. I'm so sorry... this must be a terrible shock to you." "Please... please let me see the charts. I know something about medicine myself." "Well, it's not standard procedure--" Ichigo took another look at Bulma's expression and hastily handed her the chart. Bulma flipped through it, as much as to have something to do while she collected herself as to check the readings. Her mind was whirling. What in the name of Kami was Mirai Trunks doing here--and in such a state? Where was the time machine? And what news was he bringing with him? Welcome as he was, his appearance promised an end to their peaceful times. Then she made herself concentrate on the injuries. Borderline first/second degree burns of undetermined origin over a few portions of his body, deep bruises and lacerations elsewhere, healing well; dehydration, exhaustion and evidence of some tremendous nervous shock or possibly concussion the primary diagnosis. *He's been in a fight*, she mused, recognizing the telltale signs. Aloud she said, "Could you tell me when he'll be released?" The little nurse shook her head. "Not for several weeks, I'd think, though that's really more the doctor's call--" she gasped a bit as Bulma thrust the chart back into her hands and turned. "Bulma-san?" Bulma never looked back. "We'll see about that. I'm taking him home." It took quite a bit of talking and several phone calls, during which Bulma pointed out (very sharply) that Capsule Corporation was a major contributor to the hospital's finances in the form of large research grants, and that a little consideration goes a long way. To do him credit, the chief of medicine did his best to stand firm, but once Bulma got wound up he wilted shortly thereafter. With Yamucha's aid she loaded Mirai Trunks into a stretcher and got him into her van. "Yamucha, you drive," she said. "Puar and I will look after Trunks- kun." "Sure thing." Yamucha threw a look over his shoulder as he started the aircar. "What do you think brought him here?" "Just a visit-- I hope." Gently Bulma smoothed the sheets around her-- well, he was still her son, wasn't he? In some other time another Bulma had given birth to this young man and raised him in the midst of an apocalypse. Not for the first time she found herself wondering about that other woman, how she lived day to day, how much strength it'd taken to send her only child into the tides of time. *I wonder if their past changed*, she mused. *Obviously their present didn't change that much. Trunks still exists. They didn't simply wipe out their world.* Even as she wondered, Mirai Trunks groaned and stirred under her hands. Instantly she leaned over him, trying to hold him still, and beside her Puar shifted into a rather larger version of her usual self and leaned on Trunks as well. It was funny in a way, as if the two of them could hope to hold down a delirious Saiyajin. But the young man subsided into quiet again, though there was a cloud of faint despair in his expression now, as if somewhere in the silence his injuries had forced on him he was struggling to-- To what? It was going to be a very long trip back to Capsule Corporation, Bulma decided. ~*~ Hands wrapped around the bedrailing, Goten stared and stared, then finally turned to his best friend. "He looks JUST like you, Trunks-kun!" "Told you so," Trunks said, folding his arms importantly. "Okaasan says he IS me, demo, just from another time." "Trunks-kun? How can there be another time? Isn't there just one time?" "Don't you know anything, Goten?! It has to do with parallel dimensions!" "Ohhhh...." Goten nodded wisely, then tipped his head. "Trunks- kun?" "Hai, Goten?" "What are parallel dimensions?" "D'oh!" Trunks slapped his forehead. "Could the time machine have blown up, do you think, Bulma-san?" Gohan asked quietly as Trunks struggled to explain things to Goten. "That might account for his injuries and the fact the farmers said he fell out of the sky." "I suppose it might've, Gohan-kun," Bulma answered. "But it's not very likely. I--um, she-- Mirai Bulma, I suppose we should call her-- built the time machine to withstand a lot of stress. Unless it was sabotaged somehow... or, I suppose, if it hadn't been maintained properly, and he had to use it in a hurry..." she trailed off, nibbling her thumbnail nervously. "He's the only one that knows what happened, and he can't tell us in this state." "Perhaps he can." Vegeta walked up to the bed, reached out with two fingers, and laid them to the middle of Mirai Trunks' forehead, eyes narrowing in concentration. The Saiyajin telepathy was an uncertain thing, it worked best of all between blood kin and only rarely outside their own race, but sometimes, in great need or at times of high emotion... And of course, he was Prince of the Saiyajin; he'd been trained, as no one else here had, not even that idiot-- "Kakarott," Mirai Trunks whispered, finishing the thought. Abruptly his eyes jerked open, wide, confused, unfocussed, and his hand rose to grab Vegeta's wrist. "Pappa..... Pappa-- forgive-- couldn't stop him.. have to warn them, Gokou-san and Gohan-san... the Past Time..." he snarled, then, head whipping from side to side. "T'i khara, khara--" Vegeta's head jerked and he hissed a quick breath, visibly startled. "Tahrrnkss," he said, giving Trunks' name an odd twist, "o h'na? Khara h'na!" Mirai Trunks' gaze finally focussed on Vegeta. "Ryubarasu... Dragon Killer." The boy's face shifted then, looking terribly young and vulnerable. "Pappa, please, don't die again..." With a shiver he let go, falling back, passing out. "What the heck was THAT?" Kuririn said in the silence that followed. "Dragon Killer...." Gokou shook his head. "I dunno if I like the sound of that. --Hey, Vegeta, what was all that other stuff he said?" Vegeta was silent. "Otousan?" Trunks ventured, moving to look between the face of his older future self and Vegeta. "What did he say?" "You heard him. Killer of Dragons." Vegeta's voice was flat, a sure sign of some inner disturbance. "In Saiya-go. The language of our race. But who taught it to him?" Silence. "Maybe... his mother?" Bulma ventured. "I mean.. couldn't she have somehow learned..." She trailed off, looking at her husband's face. "I guess not." "Well, hey!" Kuririn shouldered his way in. "Maybe it was just a lucky guess, huh? Or some weirdo kind of racial memory, you know stuff like that!" "I don't think so." Gohan moved over to look down at Mirai Trunks also, remembering the last time this solemn young man had come to live with them. He'd seemed so driven, so desperate to keep the terror of his own world from happening. Very different from the little boy now peering over the edge of the bed, with Goten right beside him. "Bulma- san... do you suppose a senzou would help him any?" "D'OH!" Bulma slapped her forehead. "Kami, Gohan, maybe I should retire and let YOU run Capsule Corporation. Why didn't I think of that?!" Gokou scowled, then glanced out the window. "It's kinda early in the season, demo... Karin might have a few ready, the ones that ripened first. --Goten, Trunks, you two wanna go see?" "Haaiiiiii!" the two boys chorused. "Un." Going to the window, Gokou leaned out and whistled shrilly. Seconds later the Kintoen appeared, sliding to a stop beneath the sill. Trunks and Goten instantly leapt onto the golden surface. "Go straight there and back, ne? And don't cheat! Climb all the way up or Karin won't give you any senzou!" "Hai, tousan, we'll be good," Goten promised. "Oi! Kintoen! Take us to Karin-san's Tower, kudasai!" As they shot away Gohan moved to stand beside his father. "Otousan...I'm worried," he said softly. Gokou glanced sideways. "Nanda, Gohan?" "What or who is a Dragon Killer-- and more important, which dragons are getting killed?" Gokou blinked, then took a sharp breath. "You think--" "Maybe while Trunks and Goten are gone, the rest of us ought to go get the Dragon Balls. Just in case." "Hai. Wakatta yo." Turning, Gokou held out a hand. "Bulma-san, you still got Dragon Radar?" "Huh? --Oh! Not on me, Son-kun, but it's back at Capsule Corporation. In my lab." "Sankyuu." Putting two fingers to his forehead, Gokou concentrated, locking in on Dr. Briefs' ki. "Gohan, see if you can find Piccolo and tell him what's going on. Kuririn, you and Yamucha see if Juuhachi-gou can come help too. More people we got looking for the Dragon Balls, the better." ~*~ Far to the east, in the shadows of the mountains, lay a stone palace built on the ruins of what had once been an even greater building. That never failed to infuriate Pilaf. Looking out to see the remains of his former glory only made his desire for revenge on the unfortunate Son Gokou burn brighter. 'Unfortunate', because once he, Pilaf, had the Dragon Balls in his possession again, he would wish himself master of the world. Then let that irritating tailed fool try to stop him! The years of searching had been full of other frustrations--until recently, no matter how he screamed and threatened, his followers Shuu and Mai had failed to recover even one of the precious orbs. It was almost as if they had vanished from the face of Chikyuu. But at last the idiots had managed to lock in on one of the Dragon Balls, and soon now, soon-- "Pilaf-sama!" "At last...." Pilaf turned, holding out one hand as two figures entered his throne room. "Don't tell me you've failed me again!" "No, Lord Pilaf." Mai knelt hastily, sweeping her hair from her face, as much from weariness as from respect. The climb up had tired her--she wasn't as young as she had been-- but Pilaf tolerated no excuses. In a trembling hand she held out a glowing golden orb, its perfect surface marked with a single red star. "Behold... the One Star." "Ahhhh..." Pilaf took the Dragon Ball, his ugly little face twisting what passed for delight. "At last!" he scowled a little. "You're certain this is truly a Dragon Ball, Mai?" "Yes, my Lord..." "We're sure of it," Shuu added, trying to keep his ears from lying flat with worry that Pilaf wouldn't believe them. "Yes," a new voice interjected. "It is a Dragon Ball. The last Dragon Ball." "Nani?" Pilaf turned in the direction of the speaker, voice peevish. "Who are you that comes unannounced into the hall of the great Pilaf, rightful master of the world?" "My name is unimportant." The cloaked stranger strode forward. "All that matters is that you give me the Dragon Ball." "Are you mad?" snapped Pilaf, clutching the Ball to his chest. "No one dictates to me! I'm Pilaf!" "So you've said. But I'm afraid I have to disagree." The figure raised a hand. "You WERE Pilaf, would-be master of the world." The blast of energy cracked the stone walls wide and brought the roof crumbling down in places. Through the settling dust the stranger walked, picking his way, turning over slabs of rock here and there, until he found a certain one. Bending, he retrieved the Dragon Ball, wiping the dark red stains from its sides absently. "Thank you," he said to the silence around him. "I've been looking for this. It completes my set, you see. And I have my own ideas about what to do with the Holy Dragon when it appears." ~*~ Deep in meditation, Piccolo still felt the shockwave. His eyes opened and he scowled. "What," he muttered, looking to the east. That hadn't felt like a familiar ki, but it was definitely a powerful one. He took off in that direction, spurred by a vague unease that sharpened as he drew closer to the source. Stopping in mid-air, he blinked. Below his gaze, the remnants of Pilaf's fortress lay crushed and abandoned. Dropping closer, he studied the area. Death was in the air, recent death, he could feel it. "So the little snert finally torked someone off enough to kill him," he said under his breath. "Small loss. Maybe I ought to find the guy responsible and thank him." A second spike of energy--this one far more familiar--caught his attention and he whirled. In the near distance a sudden swirl of dark clouds had sprung up, lanced through with golden lightning that was taking the coiling shape of a long, serpentine form. "Shenlon," Piccolo snarled. He flew that way at top speed, knowing the Dragon would finish materializing before he arrived, but still hoping to interrupt the wish if necessary-- and he had a feeling it would be necessary; there was an unaccustomed cold knot in his stomach. Piccolo didn't like that one bit. The last time he'd had this same sense of doom had been with the coming of Majin Buu--and that'd been a bit too close to the end of the world for his taste. He might not be Kami any more, but this was still his planet. Ahead of him, Shenlon's head dipped towards the ground and the tiny form of the one who'd summoned him from his slumbers. "I can grant any wish," he thundered, his voice shivering the stones. "Tell me your desire." The small figure standing on the ground, looking up at Shenlon, never flinched. "A simple wish, Holy Dragon, and one easy for you to grant." He fitted a hand into an odd triangular-looking device that covered his whole fist and most of his lower arm, raised it to glitter in the setting sun. "I wish... for you to die." For the first and last time in his eternal existence, Shenlon looked startled. "What?" Then a dark beam of energy lanced up from the summoner's weapon, lancing through Shenlon's heart like a great spear of night. The Dragon roared, thrashing, as his body glowed golden again, then seemed to coil inward, drawn in along that connecting thread to flow back down into the man on the ground, who laughed wildly as the clouds exploded into wind and lightning. "MINE!" he roared, voice rising above the tempest. "THE SOUL OF THE HUNDREDTH DRAGON IS MINE!" End Chapter Thirteen