Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ. It and its characters are property of Toriyam/Bird Studios, and were
used without prior permission.
Thought Processes
PROLOGUE: The Golden Warrior
Tension. It stretched her whole body as if she were on a rack, threatening to pull it to pieces. She
itched to move, but didn't dare. Moving would be dangerous. Far too dangerous. And while she may
never have been entirely sane about keeping herself out of trouble, she knew that this was well beyond
her limits.
The jinzouningen were well beyond everyone's limits.
But even so, as the ground beneath her trembled almost in fear of the continuous explosions, she felt
like a coward. Ducking behind a small pile of rubble while a pair of deceptively human-faced demons
rampaged unopposed. Bile rose in her throat at these thoughts. Coward. Weakling. She'd never
been either of those in her life, never even considered the possibility. And now, it was clear to her that
they had come to pass.
A different type of explosion, one that shook the air itself, blasted out a shockwave that tore apart her
shelter. Unsuccessfully stifling a yelp, she flew backward to a hard landing on her back. She hissed in
pain as she sat up, pressing her hand to the gravelly burning sensation on her skin. But the sensation
was quickly forgotten. She jerked her head up, alarmed. She'd made a sound---what if the
jinzouningen had found her?
She sagged in relief to see that she was still alone, and took several deep breaths to slow her furiously
beating heart. Her gaze traveled upward, to where she assumed the jinzouningen must still be . . . and
she was immediately overcome by a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.
That the jinzouningen were there was not what had caught her attention; she had expected that much.
What she had not expected was to see an aura of golden fire, like a candleflame, but much more
electric and volatile, that seemed to be attacking them. If she squinted just right, she could swear that
there was a person at the centre of that aura, untouched by the obvious violence it possessed.
Desperately, she shook her head; there was no way that she could have seen such a thing. It was
simply impossible. Someone fighting those monsters? Someone actually capable of fighting those
monsters? No, that didn't make sense. It just didn't.
And yet her eyes were involuntarily drawn upward once more. The scene had barely changed, save
that the aura seemed duller, weaker. But it was still there. It was real.
Someone who could fight them . . .
That cemented things; dangerous or not, she needed to get a closer look. Perhaps she wasn't really a
coward, after all. Yes, she was still brave, like she'd always been.
Feeling more like herself than she had in years, she pushed herself to her feet, and quickly scanned the
area for something to climb. Woefully little remained standing, blasted either to half-height or non-existence at some undetermined moment of the attack. She silently cursed the jinzouningen for ruining
her chance to observe what was no doubt a fascinating battle. Another quick glance showed that it
was not likely to last much longer; the person in the golden aura was clearly slowing down.
Come on, just keep it going a few more minutes, she thought irritably, not at all considering how
callous it was that she was only thinking that so she could satisfy her curiosity. I have to see this.
Don't cheat me out of it!
There. Just a block down the road, most of what she judged to be an apartment building was still
intact. Surely there would be a fire escape that would give her a better vantage point. With a final
check on the fight, she darted toward the building, using the stored tension in her legs to push past her
normal limitations. Along the way, she passed by several pale, bleeding corpses, and she merely pulled
the collar of her filthy white shirt over her nose and mouth to keep out the stench. It wasn't that she
meant to show such disrespect to the dead, but she was in a hurry.
Her assumption proved true; the fire escape remained whole, though when she tested her footing, it
creaked ominously, loosened from its moorings. For a moment, she hesitated, uncertain, but tightened
her lips in resolve. She didn't weigh that much; the structure would hold her. But however confident
she was, she was by no means a complete fool; her steps were deliberate, careful, and despite her
sense of urgency, she managed not to rush. Not much, anyway.
When she finally reached the top---or what was the top, now, at least---she took a second to steady
herself, to reassure herself that her perch would not collapse from under her. She brushed a loose lock
of midnight-coloured hair out of her eyes, as she scanned the air yet again. And her breath caught in
her throat, in pure excitement, at what she observed.
Indeed there was a person within that aura of flame, blond-haired to match it, and dressed in an orange
fighting gi that clicked somewhere in the back of her memory. What caught her attention even more
was that he seemed little, if any, older that she was: a mere thirteen years of age. She was more than
impressed by that. Someone her age could actually stand up to the jinzouningen in battle. And if one
person could do it, then maybe . . .
All this was observed in the space of a few seconds. The boy darted in and out of combat, in brief, yet
clearly brutal exchanges---the jinzouningen sometimes alternating, sometimes jumping in together---where he always came out receiving the worst of it. She couldn't really see much of what happened
during those exchanges; not only was she still too far away to determine the finest of details, but all of
the battle's participants moved more quickly than she'd imagined possible. One instant they were in
combat, and in the next, they were separated. She'd never witnessed anything so amazing in her entire
life.
A strangled cry shredded the air, and she gritted her teeth against the horrendous sound. She refrained
from squeezing her eyes shut, though, so she managed to see the boy dropping away from the male
jinzouningen, the aura extinguishing abruptly---and she would have sworn that his hair had turned black
had the boy not flared his power anew a second later. She probably had just been seeing things.
Another exchange, and the boy came out of it barely well enough to hold himself up; the golden fire
wavered, and he wobbled in his flight.
Despite herself, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for the boy, even though she had never met
him. All that fighting, all that struggling, and he was going to lose. Going to die. It was unfair, and even
though that was true of life, especially in a world such as this, it didn't mean that she had to like it.
Out of an odd desire to honour the boy's struggle, she didn't turn away when the next, and---she was
certain---final blow was delivered, knocking him back, so far back that his body smashed into the
building directly next to the one upon which she was standing. Concrete rained down from the impact
site, and a thick cloud of dust spewed out as though a volcano had just erupted. Instinctively, she
pulled the collar of her shirt over her mouth and nose again just before the cloud enveloped her; even
so, some of it managed to invade her lungs, and a good deal more entrenched itself in her eyes, causing
a burning itch. She dropped to her knees, coughing.
Gradually, the dust began to clear, and she took the opportunity to rub at her eyes. And she stifled her
coughs as she heard a voice more frigid than the deepest winter night, from closer than what could be
safe.
"So, do you think he ran, again?" The male jinzouningen, the one that struck the last blow.
"I would hardly be surprised." By default, the female one.
She would have paused to analyze these statements, but given how close the voices were, she was
going to have to find a hiding spot before the cloud fully cleared. She prodded one hand against the
wall, searching for a window; in the time she had, there would be nothing better to use. No luck. She
would have to check further down. Quietly as she could manage, she crawled along the fire escape,
her hand ever against the wall.
She did pause, however, when the corner of her vision caught a flicker of bright yellow, and she
immediately set her eyes upon it. A brief streak of gold, and then it was gone. It couldn't . . . How?
She shook her head. No time.
Finally, her palm met with glass instead of brick. She allowed no relaxation to deceive her; instead, she
grew more tense as she stood, and arced her leg back. Please, Kami-sama, don't let them hear this,
she prayed silently.
And she kicked in the window.
Without waiting to see if her actions had led to her discovery, she dove through the opening she'd
forcibly created, and huddled just below the window sill, curling herself up as tightly as she could.
"What was that?" The female jinzouningen's voice floated into her ears.
"I don't know. Probably a delayed reaction on one of the last buildings we blew up," came the reply,
and the tone became even more casual at the next words. "So, you want to look for the kid, have a
little more fun with him?"
"Nah, he's probably long gone by now, the slithery little coward. You know, Juunana, this whole letting
him live bit isn't paying off. He still isn't any good."
"Well, it's only been a few months, Juuhachi. Got to give him a little more time before anything
significant might happen; you know how those flesh-and-bone types are. It's going to be worth it one
day, just wait and see."
"Whatever. You'd just better be right; you know how much I hate wasting my time." An irritated sigh.
"I'm bored; let's get out of here."
For the next several minutes, there was no sound, and ever so slowly, she permitted herself to believe
that the jinzouningen had left. She let out a deep breath, now free to process what she'd overheard.
This hadn't been the first time that boy had tried to fight them . . . they were letting him live in the
apparent hope that he'd one day be a challenge . . .
Her face wrinkled sourly at that thought. Blasted jinzouningen and their vicious games. It made her just
want to---
She'd seen him. The boy. That bright golden streak she had caught sight of while searching for shelter;
it had to have been him. The jinzouningen thought that he had left, but she wondered . . . could he still
be here? He must have been badly hurt (and she would have thought so even if she hadn't seen him
smashed into a skyscraper), so there was a chance that he was still in the city. Hiding somewhere, like
she was.
Feeling somehow rejuvenated, she practically hopped to her feet, determined to find the boy. Idly, she
noted numerous thin slices of pain scattered over her body; she looked down at herself, finding several
shallow red cuts all over her arms and legs, no doubt from brushing against jagged glass as she'd leaped
through the window. But she readily dismissed them. After all, a few scratches weren't going to kill
her, or anything.
She carefully climbed out the window, and back onto the fire escape. It creaked again under her
weight, but this time, the warning sound did nothing to slow her pace. She charged down each flight of
stairs, the harsh echoes of her steps giving chase. Upon reaching the ground, she stopped for a
moment, surveying the area, trying to remember which way the object of her curiosity had run.
Survivors had already emerged from their hiding places, most looking bedraggled yet relieved, others
looking frantic as they dashed about in search of friends and family members. She would have spared a
moment to be thankful that the survivors were so great in number, but she was a very focused girl, and
at the moment, her attention was concentrated upon the blond-haired fighter.
Left, she recalled at last. He had gone left.
She picked her way around dead bodies, leaped over piles of debris, following a trail she saw only in
her mind. At no specific point during the attack, her hair had broken free of her usual pigtails, and
occasionally a few errant strands found their way into her mouth. Disgustedly, she spat them out, but
did not weaken her stride.
But after a while, she began to doubt her memory. She hadn't found a trace of him, yet; could he have
gone the other way? Was he even still here? The thought that she had made a mistake flared in her
mind, and she growled in frustration; she hated making mistakes.
Her ears pricked a second after she had let out the growl. A soft coughing noise, ahead of her and to
the right. There were no people that she could see in this area, which raised her hopes. And after
listening more closely, those hopes were raised even more; the coughs sounded as though they were
coming from someone young, someone who had not yet reached adulthood. She smiled. It could be .
. .
She took off toward the noises, renewed both in body and spirit. Excited, she rounded the corner of a
ruined building---
And saw nothing. No survivor of the attack. No wounded boy who was capable of going toe-to-toe
with the jinzouningen.
She could have screamed. All the effort to look for him: wasted. Angrily, she stomped over to the
exact spot where she could have sworn she'd heard the coughing. A gust of wind sprang up, blowing
her hair away from her face, and bringing up something that brushed up against her leg, tickling it. She
glanced down impulsively, and upon seeing what that thing was, she snatched it out of the air.
A scrap of orange cloth.
The edge of it was lined in red, and she extended her fingers to touch it. Blood. Still wet, still warm.
The conclusion she came to was painfully obvious.
She had just missed him.
"So," she mused aloud, eyes on the piece of cloth. "Looks like I'm really not crazy, after all. Well, you
gave me the slip this time, but I'll find you. When Videl Satan wants something, she gets it. And we've
got a lot to talk about, you and I."