FIC: 'Til Death Do Us Part (DBZ) (for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xelloss_poo)
Jun. 7th, 2005 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeFIC: 'Til Death Do Us Part
Fandom: Dragonball Z
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, talk of genocide, HIGH Angst
A/N: This is set in the Mirai timeline in the show. Since that story line focuses on Trunks, it doesn't tell us how Gohan survived, etc. All we know is that he kept fighting. So, this is my take on part of it.
Challenge: forxelloss_poo at: http://www.livejournal.com/community/fic_on_demand/227786.html
Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit Night
by Du Fu
The army drum cuts off people's actions,
A lone goose sounds on the borderland in autumn.
Tonight we start the season of white dew,
The moon is just as bright as in my homeland.
My brothers are spread all throughout the land,
No home to ask if they are living or dead.
The letters we send always go astray,
Still the fighting does not cease.
Gohan kept his flight pattern low to the ground. If he needed to escape, he wanted to be able to duck into the trees and hope that his presence went unnoticed. Hiding was getting harder to do now. They recognized him… They hunted him…
His unease not letting up, he lowered himself into the trees until he was standing on firm ground and then tilted his head to listen. He heard nothing, but his hear beat didn’t slow any. His body was running off pure adrenaline. It was the only thing keeping him on his feet.
Walking through the forest, Gohan automatically scanned the areas around him, searching for ki signatures, although the things that hunted him didn’t have any. He had been trained well, though. He could remember Piccolo telling him once that he had to be aware of everything around him, or the enemy that he faced wouldn’t be the enemy that succeeded in killing him. It would be the one hiding behind the bushes.
The moon illuminated the ground, but the shadows stretched out ominously. Stumbling blindly forward, Gohan wasn’t really aware of the brambles that reached out to scratch him and claw at his clothing. Other than the fact that his eyes constantly scanned the woods around him, he really didn’t appear to be aware of what he was doing.
The Androids probably weren’t chasing him. They were probably too tired… if they were capable of tiring. But even their tireless energy had to have limits. He had to believe that, or he was lost.
Even in this heightened and transformed state, Gohan could tell that he was injured. Not all of the blood on his gi was his, but enough of it was that he was going to have to seek medical attention. He wasn’t far from Capusle Corp. He hoped Bulma had enough medical supplies to help him. He knew that she gave out as much of the medicines as she could spare to the refugees that passed through the area.
More and more of them came every week.
As the Androids destroyed the big cities of the world, the human race was rapidly becoming a race of nomads again. A few places still stood, like Capsule Corp, but Gohan didn’t hold out much hope for those. Even with the clever camouflage that Bulma had designed, he privately thought that it would only be a matter of time before the Android’s constant search for fun brought them this way.
Some of the other cities had tried to rebuild. Even as young as he was, Gohan had laughed bitterly at the attempt. When worlds came crumbling down, it seemed stupid to waste materials and energy rebuilding instead of preparing for the long winter months ahead.
He couldn’t feel the cold, but he could smell it on the wind. Winter was coming… and with it would come illness, famine, and death for millions of people. He stumbled and fell to his knees, realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. The armies were gone, defeated in a battle that had raged for a month, but that had been decisive in its victory for the two seemingly harmless Androids that took such delight in sending explosions through the camps.
Gohan gagged as he remembered searching for survivors in the infirmaries. It seemed that the Androids had carved their way through the soldiers with ease, destroying the weapons, and giving themselves all the time they wanted to torment the survivors.
If Kami had been alive still, Gohan would have prayed that the Androids had gotten bored fairly quickly. As it was, he could only hope that it hadn’t taken them long to decide that explosions were more fun than screams.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Gohan was oblivious to the blood that he smeared onto his cheek. He forced himself back onto his feet and started walking again towards what he could only hope would be a refuge. As he walked, he blindly, desperately wished that he didn’t feel so alone. He had been the weakest of the Z fighters, but the others were gone, murdered on the day that the Androids had first gone on their rampage.
Piccolo… Vegeta… Yumucha… Krillin… He had buried them all afterward.
He was only 12… it wasn’t fair that he was the one who had to keep fighting. Fear cut through his gut… he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t stop the genocide of the human race. He didn’t even realize that he was crying as he ricocheted off a tree and kept walking.
On this day, he had barely managed to turn the Android’s attention away from a refugee camp. They had been quite intrigued with watching the tents burn as people fled screaming. In fact, he recalled with some grim satisfaction, they hadn’t noticed him until he was upon them and he was sure that he’d at least injured the female. She had been holding her arm against her, her face expressionless, as her brother had beaten Gohan back.
He’d turn to run, grateful that they’d chased him, grateful that he’d led them away so that the people would have a chance to escape. He didn’t know where they would go… None of them had homes anymore.
He couldn’t go home either. Not like this. He couldn’t put his mother through that again. It was better for her if she didn’t know what he filled his days with anymore. Bulma would cover for him, call and reassure Chi-chi that he was fine. He was grateful that the television stations had shut down months ago. He no longer had to worry that anyone might watch his pathetic attempts to make a difference.
He knocked on the door, before sinking to sit on the stoop. He needed food, rest, and medicine… he’d have to be ready. If the Androids kept the same pattern that they’d been using, he only had about a week before they’d be looking to hurt someone else.
Just because he’d won a minor victory today, he knew that the war wouldn’t stop. The fighting wouldn’t stop. Not until either he or the Androids were dead.
Fandom: Dragonball Z
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, talk of genocide, HIGH Angst
A/N: This is set in the Mirai timeline in the show. Since that story line focuses on Trunks, it doesn't tell us how Gohan survived, etc. All we know is that he kept fighting. So, this is my take on part of it.
Challenge: for
xelloss_poo at: http://www.livejournal.com/community/fic_on_demand/227786.htmlThinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit Night
by Du Fu
The army drum cuts off people's actions,
A lone goose sounds on the borderland in autumn.
Tonight we start the season of white dew,
The moon is just as bright as in my homeland.
My brothers are spread all throughout the land,
No home to ask if they are living or dead.
The letters we send always go astray,
Still the fighting does not cease.
Gohan kept his flight pattern low to the ground. If he needed to escape, he wanted to be able to duck into the trees and hope that his presence went unnoticed. Hiding was getting harder to do now. They recognized him… They hunted him…
His unease not letting up, he lowered himself into the trees until he was standing on firm ground and then tilted his head to listen. He heard nothing, but his hear beat didn’t slow any. His body was running off pure adrenaline. It was the only thing keeping him on his feet.
Walking through the forest, Gohan automatically scanned the areas around him, searching for ki signatures, although the things that hunted him didn’t have any. He had been trained well, though. He could remember Piccolo telling him once that he had to be aware of everything around him, or the enemy that he faced wouldn’t be the enemy that succeeded in killing him. It would be the one hiding behind the bushes.
The moon illuminated the ground, but the shadows stretched out ominously. Stumbling blindly forward, Gohan wasn’t really aware of the brambles that reached out to scratch him and claw at his clothing. Other than the fact that his eyes constantly scanned the woods around him, he really didn’t appear to be aware of what he was doing.
The Androids probably weren’t chasing him. They were probably too tired… if they were capable of tiring. But even their tireless energy had to have limits. He had to believe that, or he was lost.
Even in this heightened and transformed state, Gohan could tell that he was injured. Not all of the blood on his gi was his, but enough of it was that he was going to have to seek medical attention. He wasn’t far from Capusle Corp. He hoped Bulma had enough medical supplies to help him. He knew that she gave out as much of the medicines as she could spare to the refugees that passed through the area.
More and more of them came every week.
As the Androids destroyed the big cities of the world, the human race was rapidly becoming a race of nomads again. A few places still stood, like Capsule Corp, but Gohan didn’t hold out much hope for those. Even with the clever camouflage that Bulma had designed, he privately thought that it would only be a matter of time before the Android’s constant search for fun brought them this way.
Some of the other cities had tried to rebuild. Even as young as he was, Gohan had laughed bitterly at the attempt. When worlds came crumbling down, it seemed stupid to waste materials and energy rebuilding instead of preparing for the long winter months ahead.
He couldn’t feel the cold, but he could smell it on the wind. Winter was coming… and with it would come illness, famine, and death for millions of people. He stumbled and fell to his knees, realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. The armies were gone, defeated in a battle that had raged for a month, but that had been decisive in its victory for the two seemingly harmless Androids that took such delight in sending explosions through the camps.
Gohan gagged as he remembered searching for survivors in the infirmaries. It seemed that the Androids had carved their way through the soldiers with ease, destroying the weapons, and giving themselves all the time they wanted to torment the survivors.
If Kami had been alive still, Gohan would have prayed that the Androids had gotten bored fairly quickly. As it was, he could only hope that it hadn’t taken them long to decide that explosions were more fun than screams.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Gohan was oblivious to the blood that he smeared onto his cheek. He forced himself back onto his feet and started walking again towards what he could only hope would be a refuge. As he walked, he blindly, desperately wished that he didn’t feel so alone. He had been the weakest of the Z fighters, but the others were gone, murdered on the day that the Androids had first gone on their rampage.
Piccolo… Vegeta… Yumucha… Krillin… He had buried them all afterward.
He was only 12… it wasn’t fair that he was the one who had to keep fighting. Fear cut through his gut… he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t stop the genocide of the human race. He didn’t even realize that he was crying as he ricocheted off a tree and kept walking.
On this day, he had barely managed to turn the Android’s attention away from a refugee camp. They had been quite intrigued with watching the tents burn as people fled screaming. In fact, he recalled with some grim satisfaction, they hadn’t noticed him until he was upon them and he was sure that he’d at least injured the female. She had been holding her arm against her, her face expressionless, as her brother had beaten Gohan back.
He’d turn to run, grateful that they’d chased him, grateful that he’d led them away so that the people would have a chance to escape. He didn’t know where they would go… None of them had homes anymore.
He couldn’t go home either. Not like this. He couldn’t put his mother through that again. It was better for her if she didn’t know what he filled his days with anymore. Bulma would cover for him, call and reassure Chi-chi that he was fine. He was grateful that the television stations had shut down months ago. He no longer had to worry that anyone might watch his pathetic attempts to make a difference.
He knocked on the door, before sinking to sit on the stoop. He needed food, rest, and medicine… he’d have to be ready. If the Androids kept the same pattern that they’d been using, he only had about a week before they’d be looking to hurt someone else.
Just because he’d won a minor victory today, he knew that the war wouldn’t stop. The fighting wouldn’t stop. Not until either he or the Androids were dead.
