He missed the fresh, vivid air of Earth, its richness of scents and the comforting sensation of a soft breeze on his skin. He missed the quietness of forests, missed the loneliness of his life. He wasn't sure about how much time it had been since he had left it, but many years had surely passed.
Hell was really Hell. The air was hot, often suffocating, because it never moved, and there was so many people, most of them noisy and quarrelsome. However, they were no match for him and fighting them was almost more boring than doing nothing at all. He could send most of them away with a single punch, if not by a simple move of the arm; those who were skilled enough to avoid it were thrown away by the other fist or his foot.
Heat and boredom. He had to get out of this place. There wasn't even a single car.
The little village was assembled on the shore, silent, amazed and bemused. They knew those two could fly, they knew they could fight, they even knew they could do both in the same time, but... That...
The two men, very different of each other, were sparring over the ocean, raising waves around them, sometimes falling into the blue depths, sometimes jumping much higher, but most of the time their feet were stroking the surface. They were moving at a phenomenal speed and all the spectators could see were the splashes of water raising every now and then around them.
One of them was a native of the village and had the dark complexion, coal coloured eyes, black and spiky hair and slender body that characterized those people. He only wore greenish and large duck trousers kept around his waist by a large belt of bleu fabric, short and simple black boots, and his wrists were wrapped in thick bands of black tissue. On his young face was seen a confident smile, and his eyes were gleaming with determination and entertainment.
The second man, obviously older though still full of energy and life, wore a faded fighting suit of the same style than the youth's, except that it was gray and included a sleeve-less and light shirt of a paler color than the pants. His hair was thick and pitch-black, his eyes shinning as he was in the middle of his favourite activity, and a smile was beaming on his face, giving people the impression his opponent wasn't giving him any hard time - or it would give it if only the people could see the action. However, the younger man was quite a challenge and it was the reason of that cheerful face: Saiyans -because this man was one of them- had a preference for difficult fights rather than ones they won easily.
The struggle grew in violence and speed. Gradually, the smiles changed into smirks and frowns appeared on both faces. The younger man clenched his teeth tight.
For the spectators, there was only a loud exclamation followed by a huge splash. Once the water had calmed down, a single man, the elder, was seen floating over the agitated surface. He smiled gladly, wiping sweat from his forehead as waiting for his opponent to come back from the gloomy depths. Soon enough the young man emerged, showing no sign of anger, only a vexed smile that soon lost its resentment. The salty drops on his muscles shone in the sun rays before disappearing without leaving a trace.
- Good job, Oob, said the Saiyan warmly, patting his friend on the shoulder.
Oob didn't reply but lowered his forehead slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment.
- I'm hungry, continued the winner as rubbing his stomach. Let's get something to eat!
- Alright.
- If you don't mind, I'd like to pay a visit to Krilin after. It's been a while...
- Around two years, in fact.
- Two years already?!?
The youngest man nodded, an amused smile on his lips, while the other one scratched the back of his head.
- Well... Better late than never! For now, FOOD!
Krilin and Goku hugged fraternally as they met at last on the little beach of Kame House. C-18 was tanning a little further, laid on her front side and not paying attention to them as they sat down around the little table, nor to the young man who had came with Goku and was now standing on the sand, unsure about what to do himself.
He was to just go and sit down with his mentor and the little cheerful man when someone came out of the pink house. This appearance froze his blood, despite the heat of that day, and made his mind numb, for it was unused to such a vision.
The person was, in fact, a young girl. Her blond hair was kept up from her shoulders by red ribbons into two twin pigtails that bounced at every step and her blue eyes shone like polished sapphires exposed to the brightest light. She was tall and slim, although not devoid of the soft curves a female of her age could be expected to have, especially considering the silhouette of her mother. This young girl stepped down onto the beach, adjusting the straps of her simple, yet suiting, blue swimsuit. When she was done with this, her eyes met the youth's ones and a blush appeared on her cheeks.
- Man, Krilin, your daughter sure grew up! shouted Goku from the table.
Krilin nodded in approval and smiled lovingly to Marron whose blush only deepened. She saluted Goku politely and turned to Oob, who couldn't take his eyes off of her.
- Would you prefer to come inside the house? she asked with a smile. It's cooler.
- Alright.
He followed her and noticed how the temperature dropped once passed the door. She made her way to the kitchen, the young man on her heels.
- I wanted to swim a little, but I would only get a sun burn, she said. Want something to drink?
- No thanks...
- Are you sure? Water, juice, soda... Beer...
She pronounced the last word with a mocking grimace that brought a smile on the darker face. He still shook his head.
- Nothing, thank you.
- Ok then!
She helped herself with a soda and sat at the table, inviting him to do so at his turn, which he did. A moment of silence between them followed and they listen to the waves rolling onto the shore and the laughing discussion Goku and Krilin were having. Finally, Marron put her can on the table and looked directly at Oob.
- So, you train with Goku, right? How's it?
- He is a great warrior and teaches me a lot.
- Dad really loves him. They're best friends. I think he's pretty nice and funny.
- He is.
He had placed his hands on each knee and sat the back straight and the head high. His muscles, though not as impressive as Goku's ones, were well defined by this stature and Marron caught herself gazing at the harmonious lines. Her cheeks coloured slightly as she looked away.
- Your name is Oob, right?
- Yes.
He had a little moment of hesitation before pursuing:
- I'm sorry, I can't remember yours...
- Marron, pleased to meet you!
She cheerfully held out a hand toward him and he shook it shyly.
- I remember when you left with Goku at that tournament, she said. You were such a cute little kid!
He remained silent, glad that his dark complexion masked any sign of embarrassment.
- Dad says you're even more powerful than Goku is. Is it true?
- I have been told so, but it hadn't been proved yet... He still wins our fights easily.
- He's pretty amazing. Dad told me about all his adventures... It's incredible.
Oob nodded slightly and they began discussing the story of the Saiyan's life. In fact, Marron was doing most of the dialogue, while Oob only spoke his thoughts by short sentences. But time flew and soon Goku called his student for the leaving. The young man rose on his feet and saluted the young woman politely.
- I hope I'll see you around more often, she spontaneously said. You're a very nice guy!
This time, even his naturally gloomy complexion couldn't entirely hid the flush that rushed to his cheeks.
The man was leaning against a crag, arms crossed, his long hair hanging down each side of his inexpressive face. With his eyes closed, he gave the impression of being asleep, but was in fact in deep thoughts.
"How can I get out of this place? I can't be resuscitated... Anyway, I have to go back on Earth. If only I could communicate with..."
His reflections were interrupted by a sound he hadn't heard since his arrival in Hell; a gun shot. His eyes opened and he looked around to find the weapon, curious to see who had been able to bring it in this place where firearms were forbidden. His own gun had been confiscated, even if such deed was useless, since he had hundred times the power of it in his little finger. When he finally found the shooter, a bemused expression took over his impassable mask.