Hello! Yes, I'm finally back! Or at least for me, it's finally. My home
internet has been down and I've been really lazy. Amazing, only a month
without a new story and without any active stories, and I feel soooooooo
guilty. Don't you wish all fanfic writers were like that? *sigh* I could
name one or two I can think of, but I won't. Anyway, I am going to write a
V/B or G(t)/B romance very soon. I just gotta pick which one I want to
write first. So an angsty fic first: G/CC.
Usually I change the timeline, but not in this one. Thus why it's an angsty G/CC. (I've never seen GT so the last part will be very vague.)
Disclaimer: I don't own DB, DBZ, or DBGT. And to tell the truth, I actually prefer the fanfic universe to the series.
Heroes don't have the right to dream
By
Nitte iz
My dream died that day.
Staring up at Shenlong's glittering toothy frown and the endless coils he encompassed.
When I was a child, I didn't have dreams. Fishing, living off the land, watching over my grandfather's dragonball; that was my life.
Later it became more. I met Bulma and started on the first of many adventures. Even then, I simply wanted to keep my grandfather's memory and then get stronger. Probably my Saiyanness finally expressing itself.
But I still didn't have a dream, until perhaps, perhaps until I faced Piccolo. At least then I found my real calling: protecting Earth.
It wasn't until her though, that I found my dream. Peace.
I had no idea what I was getting into when I first met her. Heck, even at the altar I had no idea. In the next months, I found marriage was strange, bewildering, hard.and the most amazing adventure I had ever started on. In a world where I had nothing to hold me fast, it was the proverbial ball and chain.
But I never lived until then. She gave me, the hero, the strong one, something, someone to hold onto. And I found out why I needed to protect so badly.
She taught me why peace is so beautiful.
For six years I lived in paradise, where there was yelling and misunderstanding, but more importantly, love. I lived for her and my son.
I paid double for those years.
Two years of training, fighting, and long separation for each year of peace. Bleeding, broken bones, sleepless nights, worry, fears I would come too late or not be powerful enough, for each passionate moan, carefree laugh, joyful smile, prideful grin, sunny day.
Radditz, my long lost brother, revealed to me a piece of myself I never knew about, which demanded a price I would always have to pay.
For the price of power is responsibility.
I died then, for the first time, to protect Earth. To protect my friends. To protect Gohan. To protect her.
Then I came back, to protect them again. And again. And again. And again.
I would do it again if I could. Because I love them and I have the power to protect them.
But it came to me in those long months in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. Every enemy had attacked Earth because of me. Piccolo, Radditz, Vegeta, Frieza, the androids, Cell. As if on some cosmic scale, my power demanded opposition. But if I was no longer.
I didn't come back the second time I died.
And sure enough, peace came about, for my son and her.
But then suddenly, I was back and alive again. In some ironic twist of fate, mayhaps a reward for my sacrifices?, I was allowed to live again, to protect everyone once again.
Buu dealt with, I could live again.
And I had another son, six years old. I was able to see him grow up carefree. I was able to reclaim the years I had lost.
The years lost.
Because I was strong.
Because I was Saiyan.
Because I was me.
But I knew it would not last. It couldn't. Twelve years past and I knew another enemy would come.
I looked at my two grown sons. I looked at her.
My dream of peace, I had given so much for it. Was I selfish then, to dream that I could stay a part of that peace?
I left her then, to train Ubuu. I hoped.
He had the power. He could replace me.
Perhaps it was too selfish. To make another bear the burden of being the magnet for enemies and the one who has to sacrifice to make sure there is peace. To not be able to stay.
A month, a year, seven years past. But there was always a little more training he needed, always a little more power he needed to tap into. And so I kept trying.
I never went home.
The enemy came. And he came for me.
Only I could face him and defeat him.
Super Saiyan Five.
Me, not Ubuu.
And I realized it would never be Ubuu.
It was more than power.
It was me.
I never hated being Saiyan more.
I know she cried when they told her. Like she cried when they told her every other time, I couldn't come back.
Radditz, Vegeta, Frieza, Cell, Ubuu, Shenlong.
And she cried harder because everytime she knew it was my choice.
My choice.
Funny, I never felt like it was.
My dream died that day.
Staring up at Shenlong's glittering toothy frown and the endless coils he encompassed.
I knew what I had to do.
I sacrificed again for the dream: that ever-elusive dream of peace.
I would set the scales back into balance once again.
But I couldn't guarantee they'd stay that way.
And I couldn't return to her.
This time, there would be no miraculous return. No exuberant homecoming once again.
I could never have my dream.
Lying by her side, our sons and her at peace.
With me.
I learned the truth that day.
Heroes don't have the right to dream.
Usually I change the timeline, but not in this one. Thus why it's an angsty G/CC. (I've never seen GT so the last part will be very vague.)
Disclaimer: I don't own DB, DBZ, or DBGT. And to tell the truth, I actually prefer the fanfic universe to the series.
Heroes don't have the right to dream
By
Nitte iz
My dream died that day.
Staring up at Shenlong's glittering toothy frown and the endless coils he encompassed.
When I was a child, I didn't have dreams. Fishing, living off the land, watching over my grandfather's dragonball; that was my life.
Later it became more. I met Bulma and started on the first of many adventures. Even then, I simply wanted to keep my grandfather's memory and then get stronger. Probably my Saiyanness finally expressing itself.
But I still didn't have a dream, until perhaps, perhaps until I faced Piccolo. At least then I found my real calling: protecting Earth.
It wasn't until her though, that I found my dream. Peace.
I had no idea what I was getting into when I first met her. Heck, even at the altar I had no idea. In the next months, I found marriage was strange, bewildering, hard.and the most amazing adventure I had ever started on. In a world where I had nothing to hold me fast, it was the proverbial ball and chain.
But I never lived until then. She gave me, the hero, the strong one, something, someone to hold onto. And I found out why I needed to protect so badly.
She taught me why peace is so beautiful.
For six years I lived in paradise, where there was yelling and misunderstanding, but more importantly, love. I lived for her and my son.
I paid double for those years.
Two years of training, fighting, and long separation for each year of peace. Bleeding, broken bones, sleepless nights, worry, fears I would come too late or not be powerful enough, for each passionate moan, carefree laugh, joyful smile, prideful grin, sunny day.
Radditz, my long lost brother, revealed to me a piece of myself I never knew about, which demanded a price I would always have to pay.
For the price of power is responsibility.
I died then, for the first time, to protect Earth. To protect my friends. To protect Gohan. To protect her.
Then I came back, to protect them again. And again. And again. And again.
I would do it again if I could. Because I love them and I have the power to protect them.
But it came to me in those long months in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. Every enemy had attacked Earth because of me. Piccolo, Radditz, Vegeta, Frieza, the androids, Cell. As if on some cosmic scale, my power demanded opposition. But if I was no longer.
I didn't come back the second time I died.
And sure enough, peace came about, for my son and her.
But then suddenly, I was back and alive again. In some ironic twist of fate, mayhaps a reward for my sacrifices?, I was allowed to live again, to protect everyone once again.
Buu dealt with, I could live again.
And I had another son, six years old. I was able to see him grow up carefree. I was able to reclaim the years I had lost.
The years lost.
Because I was strong.
Because I was Saiyan.
Because I was me.
But I knew it would not last. It couldn't. Twelve years past and I knew another enemy would come.
I looked at my two grown sons. I looked at her.
My dream of peace, I had given so much for it. Was I selfish then, to dream that I could stay a part of that peace?
I left her then, to train Ubuu. I hoped.
He had the power. He could replace me.
Perhaps it was too selfish. To make another bear the burden of being the magnet for enemies and the one who has to sacrifice to make sure there is peace. To not be able to stay.
A month, a year, seven years past. But there was always a little more training he needed, always a little more power he needed to tap into. And so I kept trying.
I never went home.
The enemy came. And he came for me.
Only I could face him and defeat him.
Super Saiyan Five.
Me, not Ubuu.
And I realized it would never be Ubuu.
It was more than power.
It was me.
I never hated being Saiyan more.
I know she cried when they told her. Like she cried when they told her every other time, I couldn't come back.
Radditz, Vegeta, Frieza, Cell, Ubuu, Shenlong.
And she cried harder because everytime she knew it was my choice.
My choice.
Funny, I never felt like it was.
My dream died that day.
Staring up at Shenlong's glittering toothy frown and the endless coils he encompassed.
I knew what I had to do.
I sacrificed again for the dream: that ever-elusive dream of peace.
I would set the scales back into balance once again.
But I couldn't guarantee they'd stay that way.
And I couldn't return to her.
This time, there would be no miraculous return. No exuberant homecoming once again.
I could never have my dream.
Lying by her side, our sons and her at peace.
With me.
I learned the truth that day.
Heroes don't have the right to dream.