Post by Krillin on Oct 18, 2010 0:10:31 GMT -5
The knowledge came instinctively, but he did not know its source. His memory still was not complete, perhaps would never be again, but as soon as he had taken this pose that he had seen Krillin use, he seemed to know exactly what to do.
The hands were cupped at his side, heels of them touching in order to prevent any ki from escaping. And then he searched within the centre of himself, looking for that warm spark of power that was in all beings, though few enough ever managed to find it, and fewer still managed to use it. From there, it was a matter of pulling this power into his hands, forcing it outward through the skin of his palms. And he had to keep doing it, forming all of this power into a condensed ball of pure ki resting between said cupped hands. And yet more gathered there, layering it for when it had to be elongated. The more power was concentrated into it, the further the potential range. Its power could only increase so much. The Kamehameha Wave was a blast attack, not a ball attack, so some strength had
to be sacrificed for momentum. It was just the way things worked.
The power felt warm in his hands, and familiar. Very familiar, as if he had performed this move many times in the past. And this unknown knowledge gave him a surety in himself, a confidence that this quickly thought plan of his was going to work.
"Ha . . . Me . . . "
He stopped gathering power now; he had all that he could muster, and all that he needed to use. Now was the time for targeting, something at least as important as the attack itself. For what good was an attack, it if did not strike the proper target? And his eyes locked upon this target. Not the giant slowly crushing his companion. No, not that at all, though that would have been the most obvious choice. For this situation, for the lack of power he had in comparison to this creature, to try and attack it directly would be not only improper, but foolish. And Gohan was not a foolish man. He never had been.
"Ha!" He shouted out the final syllable as he thrust his hands forward, pushing the energy out ahead of him. It blasted upward in a torrent of brilliant light, blanking out everything, and leaving things in a negative image when there was anything to see.
And this blast continued upward further and further, narrowly missing Kyojin's hand, the one with Krillin in it, and struck the target that he had intended all along. The mountain.
With a great explosion of dust, the mountain began to crumble apart, and the huge chunks of rock rained down upon Kyojin's arm. Under too much stress from the weight, the arm was brought down, and the hand relaxed its hold.
And with that relaxed hold, Krillin fell to the ground.
Gohan dropped to his knees, sweat pouring down his face, lungs burning, and air more desperate to stay out of his mouth than go into it. That attack had taken so much power that it had drained him almost completely, left him barely able to move. But he had to move in short order. It would not be long before Kyojin noticed him and decided to exact vengeance on him for such a move. And also, he had to find Krillin. The boy might have been buried under the rock slide, if he had been unlucky.
He forced himself to his feet, still panting, and his head swam as he stood. It threatened to drag him down into unconsciousness, but he fought it. He could rest after this ordeal was over. He had not the time for such things now.
Forcing his legs to move, he headed toward the avalanche that he had created, silently hoping that he hadn't accidentally done his companion – friend – any more harm than he had already been enduring.
- -
Krillin had never been so happy in his life to hit the ground.
Normally, it was not a good sensation, crashing onto the earth after failing to stop your momentum, but right now it felt great. Better than being crushed, anyway. He would take this any day of the week.
Still, despite this sentiment, he could not move for a moment. His head was too heavy and his body in too much pain. Both of which would hopefully pass quickly. The likelihood that Kyojin had been injured much by that move of Gohan Senior's, clever though it was, was not all that high. At any second, the giant could rise, and be in one heck of a rotten mood. Best to deal with him before that happened.
So when the pain dissipated a little bit, but not very much, Krillin pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He coughed out dust, and lifted one fist to wipe the offending particles out of his eyes. Now or never, if he wanted to get this done, if only he could just manage the strength . . .
A hand fell on his shoulder, and Krillin jumped, startled for a moment, thinking rather absurdly that it belonged to Kyojin. But in fact, and what made his mistake so silly that he could not help but feel foolish in such a dire situation, it was Gohan Senior. The old man had a concerned but relieved look on his face. And, unless Krillin missed his guess, there was a hint of pride in that expression too.
"Well, there you are, son," Gohan Senior said kindly, and with a little bit of a laugh. "I was afraid for a moment that you might have gotten crushed under all this rock. It would have been most unfortunate.
Krillin smiled in spite of himself. "Gee, you think?"
Gohan Senior chuckled a little, but Krillin glanced upward and shushed him. Kyojin was prying his arm out from under the rubble, was almost through in fact, and the expression on his face bespoke that he was completely and utterly through with playing around, with stalling, with prolonging anything more than was necessary.
The giant was angry.
And once his arm was free, he quickly found them, those red slitted eyes narrowing in fury., And his leg lifted furiously, preparing for a run at them. Krillin might have had enough time to leap out of the way with Gohan Senior, had he not been injured. But as he was now . . .
"Gohan, run!" he shouted to his companion. But the old man did not listen to him.
"Not a chance, son. Here!" was his response.
Krillin was about to form a reply, but he suddenly found his mouth full. He wanted to pull this thing out – and give the old man an annoyed glare for his trouble – but Gohan Senior shoved it further into his mouth. Reflexively, Krillin bit down . . .
And his limbs started to feel a little better. Not uninjured, but still strong. Whatever this thing in his mouth was, it was giving him back the energy that he so desperately needed at a time like this. He managed another few chews before Kyojin reached them, and with newfound strength he blasted into the air enveloped in white ki. Just below them, Kyojin's fist ripped though the ground.
Krillin finished chewing and then swallowed what was in his mouth. It had been some kind of fruit, from the tangy, acrid taste. He shot Gohan Senior a look, and found the old man just giving him a smile and a single nod. Krillin did not know what he had done, but he was glad of it. And he could ask about it later.
Already, ki was gathering in his hands, preparing once more for a heavy strike. He kept Gohan Senior close to him – there was no safe place to drop him off – as Kyojin tore his fist out of the ground, glaring at them balefully.
"That is the last time you fool me, tiny ones!" the giant roared. "I will have no more of this!"
And once more, the giant charged. Krillin increased his altitude a little, coming to the height just above Kyojin's nose. His ki gathering hand was behind his back, hiding, storing power . . .
It happened in a split instant. For the briefest of time periods Krillin was staring straight into one of Kyojin's monstrous red eyes, and the next, the giant was sailing backward, eventually crashing into a mountainside. The mountain broke apart under the intense force, a horrible storm of solid thunder. And it continued to fall until Kyojin was buried beneath it.
A light patter of tiny stones completed their descent, accompanying the cloud of dust that had risen from the impact of the collapsing mountain.
Arm still extended from his punch, Krillin exhaled a sigh of relief. His arm was still twitching from the force he had needed to put into that blow. And while he was exhausted, breathing heavily and a little dizzy, he could not help but feel a little sense of pride. He sure had made that shot count.
But, fearing that his dizziness might cause an unfortunate fall, Krillin lowered himself and Gohan Senior to the ground. Once there, he left his companion free.
They stood near the spot where Kyojin was buried, one huge foot sticking out from the pile of rubble. A long, tense moment passed, Krillin fully expecting the giant to leap up from under the broken mountain and crush them before they could move. Fortunately, though, nothing happened. Krillin searched for the giant's ki, and he did find it, low and weak, but fairly steady. For seemingly the millionth time that day, he sighed in relief. He was really glad that he wasn't dead.
"It would seem that some congratulations are in order, son," Gohan Senior said simply. "That move took a lot of courage, and probably saved our souls."
Well, there was always that, Krillin supposed. And actually, this wasn't so bad. He felt strong, useful, a complete contrast to how he had felt while fighting against Frieza. A complete contrast to how he felt about himself in general. Yep, he had done some pretty good work here.
But his optimism was short lived, as it usually tended to be, and he frowned. "Or doomed them. This guy was sent to track us down, or so he said, for us escaping the Relegation Room. Taking him out might not have been very bright."
This seemed to sober Gohan Senior. The old man's moustache drooped, indicating that he had taken up a frown as well. "I hadn't thought of that. You might be right, son."
Krillin shook his head, silently wondering if this whole insane ordeal had been futile. The both of them could end up with a terrible punishment, but as he had determined before, he might be able to get Gohan Senior off the hook. There were so many dealings in this place that he would likely never fathom them, much less have done so in only a few weeks. Maybe they just should have waited. Maybe his case would not have taken as long as that office demon had said.
Again, with the hindsight being perfect. Hindsight was very annoying that way.
Considering the fugitive road that he had taken and had forced upon Gohan Senior, Krillin decided that it was time to do things honourably for a change. Oh, they would still head to Judgement; it would be foolish not to find their destination after coming this far, enduring all this trouble. But the rest, he would deal with fair and square. And that included whatever punishment he would face for his reckless actions.
He lifted his head. "Come on, Gohan," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice level. "I think that we've got a journey to finish."
It was not as busy as normal around the admissions building. Death had apparently decided to have a light duty work day, which suited the office demons and their boss just fine. While King Yemma would insist that he enjoyed his job and wouldn't mind if things remained relentlessly busy, all knew that it was a lie. Oh, King Yemma enjoyed his job, to be sure, but even he liked to have a little free time, once in a while. It was good for improving his ping-pong game.
"Okay, let's keep things moving," an office demon said with bored authority. Unlike some others here, he was quiet and efficient and genuinely enjoyed the role he played in organizing the lives of the dead. He waved one hand, urging on a soul. "You're next, sir. Move along."
The soul floated past him easily, without protest or any other kind of comment, which was always the preferable way to go. Moved things along faster when a soul did not stop to chat. The office demon filled in various boxes on the page of his clipboard, completing this soul's registration information . . .
"Ahem. Excuse us."
Almost, but not quite startled, the office demon looked up at the sound of the polite voice that had just spoken. What was more surprising than the voice was that the speaker had a body, and so did the person with him. They were obviously both resident souls, judging by the halo over each of their heads. And while he appreciated the courtesy, he had looked down the line just moments ago and he knew that these two were not next. He had seen no souls that still possessed their bodies.
"Look, I'm sorry guys, but no cuts," he informed them. Any other office demon probably would have been annoyed at the presence of these two, but he was a patient one, and endured this intrusion with aplomb. "You'll have to go to the back of the line and wait until King Yemma is ready to see you."
"Um, yeah . . ." the speaker, a small bald fellow, with incense burns on his head and dressed in a suit of strange-looking armour, began. His tone was still polite, but while it was hesitant, it also contained a bit of an edge. "But this would probably qualify as a special case."
Now, the office demon was annoyed. He gave these two his best frown, and put his hands on his hips. "Yes, it's always a special case. I hear that one a lot. It never works, boys, so I suggest that you –"
"Oh, but I think we are, sir," the other figure finally spoke. This one was an elderly man, the lower half of his face mostly obscured by a bushy white moustache and matching beard. "Word of us has reached here, I would imagine? We're the two escapees from the Relegation Room."
"I don't . . . What?" The office demon blinked in shock. These were the fugitives that had broken loose several weeks ago? Come to think of it, they did match the descriptions. But what were they doing here? Could they have finally decided that being on the run for eternity wasn't worth it and turned themselves in? Depending on how someone looked at it, this was either a very brave or a very stupid action. His bets were on the latter.
But still, they were here, and it was his job to organize the souls before they got into Judgement. "I . . . I see. The two of you wait right here. I will speak to King Yemma and find out whether or not he is ready to see you."
He turned, and forced his legs to hurry into the admissions building. Regardless of the fact that the two fugitives turning themselves in was good news, King Yemma was sure to be in a mood about this.
He just prayed that the lord of the dead wouldn't kill the messenger.
Word Count: 2673
(Didn't really proof read...yeah)
The hands were cupped at his side, heels of them touching in order to prevent any ki from escaping. And then he searched within the centre of himself, looking for that warm spark of power that was in all beings, though few enough ever managed to find it, and fewer still managed to use it. From there, it was a matter of pulling this power into his hands, forcing it outward through the skin of his palms. And he had to keep doing it, forming all of this power into a condensed ball of pure ki resting between said cupped hands. And yet more gathered there, layering it for when it had to be elongated. The more power was concentrated into it, the further the potential range. Its power could only increase so much. The Kamehameha Wave was a blast attack, not a ball attack, so some strength had
to be sacrificed for momentum. It was just the way things worked.
The power felt warm in his hands, and familiar. Very familiar, as if he had performed this move many times in the past. And this unknown knowledge gave him a surety in himself, a confidence that this quickly thought plan of his was going to work.
"Ha . . . Me . . . "
He stopped gathering power now; he had all that he could muster, and all that he needed to use. Now was the time for targeting, something at least as important as the attack itself. For what good was an attack, it if did not strike the proper target? And his eyes locked upon this target. Not the giant slowly crushing his companion. No, not that at all, though that would have been the most obvious choice. For this situation, for the lack of power he had in comparison to this creature, to try and attack it directly would be not only improper, but foolish. And Gohan was not a foolish man. He never had been.
"Ha!" He shouted out the final syllable as he thrust his hands forward, pushing the energy out ahead of him. It blasted upward in a torrent of brilliant light, blanking out everything, and leaving things in a negative image when there was anything to see.
And this blast continued upward further and further, narrowly missing Kyojin's hand, the one with Krillin in it, and struck the target that he had intended all along. The mountain.
With a great explosion of dust, the mountain began to crumble apart, and the huge chunks of rock rained down upon Kyojin's arm. Under too much stress from the weight, the arm was brought down, and the hand relaxed its hold.
And with that relaxed hold, Krillin fell to the ground.
Gohan dropped to his knees, sweat pouring down his face, lungs burning, and air more desperate to stay out of his mouth than go into it. That attack had taken so much power that it had drained him almost completely, left him barely able to move. But he had to move in short order. It would not be long before Kyojin noticed him and decided to exact vengeance on him for such a move. And also, he had to find Krillin. The boy might have been buried under the rock slide, if he had been unlucky.
He forced himself to his feet, still panting, and his head swam as he stood. It threatened to drag him down into unconsciousness, but he fought it. He could rest after this ordeal was over. He had not the time for such things now.
Forcing his legs to move, he headed toward the avalanche that he had created, silently hoping that he hadn't accidentally done his companion – friend – any more harm than he had already been enduring.
- -
Krillin had never been so happy in his life to hit the ground.
Normally, it was not a good sensation, crashing onto the earth after failing to stop your momentum, but right now it felt great. Better than being crushed, anyway. He would take this any day of the week.
Still, despite this sentiment, he could not move for a moment. His head was too heavy and his body in too much pain. Both of which would hopefully pass quickly. The likelihood that Kyojin had been injured much by that move of Gohan Senior's, clever though it was, was not all that high. At any second, the giant could rise, and be in one heck of a rotten mood. Best to deal with him before that happened.
So when the pain dissipated a little bit, but not very much, Krillin pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He coughed out dust, and lifted one fist to wipe the offending particles out of his eyes. Now or never, if he wanted to get this done, if only he could just manage the strength . . .
A hand fell on his shoulder, and Krillin jumped, startled for a moment, thinking rather absurdly that it belonged to Kyojin. But in fact, and what made his mistake so silly that he could not help but feel foolish in such a dire situation, it was Gohan Senior. The old man had a concerned but relieved look on his face. And, unless Krillin missed his guess, there was a hint of pride in that expression too.
"Well, there you are, son," Gohan Senior said kindly, and with a little bit of a laugh. "I was afraid for a moment that you might have gotten crushed under all this rock. It would have been most unfortunate.
Krillin smiled in spite of himself. "Gee, you think?"
Gohan Senior chuckled a little, but Krillin glanced upward and shushed him. Kyojin was prying his arm out from under the rubble, was almost through in fact, and the expression on his face bespoke that he was completely and utterly through with playing around, with stalling, with prolonging anything more than was necessary.
The giant was angry.
And once his arm was free, he quickly found them, those red slitted eyes narrowing in fury., And his leg lifted furiously, preparing for a run at them. Krillin might have had enough time to leap out of the way with Gohan Senior, had he not been injured. But as he was now . . .
"Gohan, run!" he shouted to his companion. But the old man did not listen to him.
"Not a chance, son. Here!" was his response.
Krillin was about to form a reply, but he suddenly found his mouth full. He wanted to pull this thing out – and give the old man an annoyed glare for his trouble – but Gohan Senior shoved it further into his mouth. Reflexively, Krillin bit down . . .
And his limbs started to feel a little better. Not uninjured, but still strong. Whatever this thing in his mouth was, it was giving him back the energy that he so desperately needed at a time like this. He managed another few chews before Kyojin reached them, and with newfound strength he blasted into the air enveloped in white ki. Just below them, Kyojin's fist ripped though the ground.
Krillin finished chewing and then swallowed what was in his mouth. It had been some kind of fruit, from the tangy, acrid taste. He shot Gohan Senior a look, and found the old man just giving him a smile and a single nod. Krillin did not know what he had done, but he was glad of it. And he could ask about it later.
Already, ki was gathering in his hands, preparing once more for a heavy strike. He kept Gohan Senior close to him – there was no safe place to drop him off – as Kyojin tore his fist out of the ground, glaring at them balefully.
"That is the last time you fool me, tiny ones!" the giant roared. "I will have no more of this!"
And once more, the giant charged. Krillin increased his altitude a little, coming to the height just above Kyojin's nose. His ki gathering hand was behind his back, hiding, storing power . . .
It happened in a split instant. For the briefest of time periods Krillin was staring straight into one of Kyojin's monstrous red eyes, and the next, the giant was sailing backward, eventually crashing into a mountainside. The mountain broke apart under the intense force, a horrible storm of solid thunder. And it continued to fall until Kyojin was buried beneath it.
A light patter of tiny stones completed their descent, accompanying the cloud of dust that had risen from the impact of the collapsing mountain.
Arm still extended from his punch, Krillin exhaled a sigh of relief. His arm was still twitching from the force he had needed to put into that blow. And while he was exhausted, breathing heavily and a little dizzy, he could not help but feel a little sense of pride. He sure had made that shot count.
But, fearing that his dizziness might cause an unfortunate fall, Krillin lowered himself and Gohan Senior to the ground. Once there, he left his companion free.
They stood near the spot where Kyojin was buried, one huge foot sticking out from the pile of rubble. A long, tense moment passed, Krillin fully expecting the giant to leap up from under the broken mountain and crush them before they could move. Fortunately, though, nothing happened. Krillin searched for the giant's ki, and he did find it, low and weak, but fairly steady. For seemingly the millionth time that day, he sighed in relief. He was really glad that he wasn't dead.
"It would seem that some congratulations are in order, son," Gohan Senior said simply. "That move took a lot of courage, and probably saved our souls."
Well, there was always that, Krillin supposed. And actually, this wasn't so bad. He felt strong, useful, a complete contrast to how he had felt while fighting against Frieza. A complete contrast to how he felt about himself in general. Yep, he had done some pretty good work here.
But his optimism was short lived, as it usually tended to be, and he frowned. "Or doomed them. This guy was sent to track us down, or so he said, for us escaping the Relegation Room. Taking him out might not have been very bright."
This seemed to sober Gohan Senior. The old man's moustache drooped, indicating that he had taken up a frown as well. "I hadn't thought of that. You might be right, son."
Krillin shook his head, silently wondering if this whole insane ordeal had been futile. The both of them could end up with a terrible punishment, but as he had determined before, he might be able to get Gohan Senior off the hook. There were so many dealings in this place that he would likely never fathom them, much less have done so in only a few weeks. Maybe they just should have waited. Maybe his case would not have taken as long as that office demon had said.
Again, with the hindsight being perfect. Hindsight was very annoying that way.
Considering the fugitive road that he had taken and had forced upon Gohan Senior, Krillin decided that it was time to do things honourably for a change. Oh, they would still head to Judgement; it would be foolish not to find their destination after coming this far, enduring all this trouble. But the rest, he would deal with fair and square. And that included whatever punishment he would face for his reckless actions.
He lifted his head. "Come on, Gohan," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice level. "I think that we've got a journey to finish."
It was not as busy as normal around the admissions building. Death had apparently decided to have a light duty work day, which suited the office demons and their boss just fine. While King Yemma would insist that he enjoyed his job and wouldn't mind if things remained relentlessly busy, all knew that it was a lie. Oh, King Yemma enjoyed his job, to be sure, but even he liked to have a little free time, once in a while. It was good for improving his ping-pong game.
"Okay, let's keep things moving," an office demon said with bored authority. Unlike some others here, he was quiet and efficient and genuinely enjoyed the role he played in organizing the lives of the dead. He waved one hand, urging on a soul. "You're next, sir. Move along."
The soul floated past him easily, without protest or any other kind of comment, which was always the preferable way to go. Moved things along faster when a soul did not stop to chat. The office demon filled in various boxes on the page of his clipboard, completing this soul's registration information . . .
"Ahem. Excuse us."
Almost, but not quite startled, the office demon looked up at the sound of the polite voice that had just spoken. What was more surprising than the voice was that the speaker had a body, and so did the person with him. They were obviously both resident souls, judging by the halo over each of their heads. And while he appreciated the courtesy, he had looked down the line just moments ago and he knew that these two were not next. He had seen no souls that still possessed their bodies.
"Look, I'm sorry guys, but no cuts," he informed them. Any other office demon probably would have been annoyed at the presence of these two, but he was a patient one, and endured this intrusion with aplomb. "You'll have to go to the back of the line and wait until King Yemma is ready to see you."
"Um, yeah . . ." the speaker, a small bald fellow, with incense burns on his head and dressed in a suit of strange-looking armour, began. His tone was still polite, but while it was hesitant, it also contained a bit of an edge. "But this would probably qualify as a special case."
Now, the office demon was annoyed. He gave these two his best frown, and put his hands on his hips. "Yes, it's always a special case. I hear that one a lot. It never works, boys, so I suggest that you –"
"Oh, but I think we are, sir," the other figure finally spoke. This one was an elderly man, the lower half of his face mostly obscured by a bushy white moustache and matching beard. "Word of us has reached here, I would imagine? We're the two escapees from the Relegation Room."
"I don't . . . What?" The office demon blinked in shock. These were the fugitives that had broken loose several weeks ago? Come to think of it, they did match the descriptions. But what were they doing here? Could they have finally decided that being on the run for eternity wasn't worth it and turned themselves in? Depending on how someone looked at it, this was either a very brave or a very stupid action. His bets were on the latter.
But still, they were here, and it was his job to organize the souls before they got into Judgement. "I . . . I see. The two of you wait right here. I will speak to King Yemma and find out whether or not he is ready to see you."
He turned, and forced his legs to hurry into the admissions building. Regardless of the fact that the two fugitives turning themselves in was good news, King Yemma was sure to be in a mood about this.
He just prayed that the lord of the dead wouldn't kill the messenger.
Word Count: 2673
(Didn't really proof read...yeah)