Jiyuu

BY : setbl
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 925
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT/etc. characters and related materials belong to Toriyama Akira Sensei and respective owners. Not a bit of monetary profit goes to the author for any portion of this fan fiction.

* Yes, I know, how dare I. Yet, as I’ve been glancing through my stories for refresh and inspiration, I noticed that I have no stories which do not rely heavily on Saiyajin; thus began this one, focusing on two underrated characters that need some love and who in this story strangely find it in each other. Hopefully my writing has become more profound. I want each character’s thoughts and feelings to come across deeply, so visceral, each sorrow, joy and otherwise emotion could be felt as the reader’s own. Like all my stories, this one will stick with the original DB manga/anime in mind, save GT portions; thus not a drop of DB Chou, Minus or anything beyond the original manga/anime and GT will be in this story. Though there are many inconsistencies, mistakes and contradictions throughout the entire DB franchise—whether written by Akira Toriyama himself or someone else—DB Chou is sadly disappointing in just how many it has, how characters are drawn, colored and portrayed, and the list could go on. And could they make Goku any more annoying? It is a shame that a character has more depth and mental keenness in his youth than after many years of personal growth. And Vegeta is just too watered down, along with other characters. Not to mention that every fight, scenario, and villain is so sadly predictable that it causes one to cringe. But it’s these moments I have to remind myself it’s a shounen manga/anime, thus there are certain dimensions it’s just never going to reach. Thank goodness for fan fiction, fan manga and fan art.* 

 

 “Jiyuu”

ONE

She didn’t have to be so cruel. I’ve actually been faithful to her the whole time we’ve been together. How could she just verbally sandblast me in front of all those people? Couldn’t she have used some tact to break up with me? Did I really mean so little to her? All I wanted was to be a real family with her, to take care of her and hopefully have a child or two between to us raise and call our own. Was that so wrong? I’ve never been dishonest about wanting a family. Why did she suddenly turn into mega-bitch from Hell? I am so glad Shen Long didn’t grant that ridiculous wish years ago. What kind fool would waste a perfectly good wish on an overly extravagant necklace for some undeserving bitch…? I’ve been nothing but decent to her through all these years. I even treated her better and gave her more than Bulma. I gave her my all, so… WHY?! Why…?

         Yamucha’s thoughts continued on this negative path as he flew heatedly, haphazardly through the night sky, neither knowing nor caring wherever he was headed to, all the hard liquor he’d lacquered his system with burning him without offering any real relief from his true suffering. Even Pu-erh had left him all alone to start a family of his own with a lady of his kind, just months ago. While they would always be best buddies and comrades, he not being right there with him anymore had a tremendous effect on Yamucha. Even Tenshinhan and Chaozu at least had one another, wherever the hell they’d gone off to. All that and no longer able to offer much aid to the Z Senshi in the event of a new firefight; Yamucha had never felt more utterly alone and useless in his life. No one really needed or wanted him around. Perhaps he ought to just finally let go.

         Suddenly flying up as fast as he could, Yamucha flew just far enough up to become lightheaded, and then he did let go.

         It was nothing like the movies. His proximity to the earth was coming in fast, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going cower and lift himself back up. He was done. He needed the pain to stop for good. Had he been any other he might have feared such an end. But he wasn’t. He was Yamucha: ex-bandit, ex-martial artist, ex-pro baller, ex-host, ex-bodyguard and soon-to-be ex-denizen of Earth. Such is the end of an unnecessary one, swallowed up alone; one pebble of sand in an expansive desert of many, easily taken for granted and forgotten by all.  

          But just before he could slam unforgivingly to the earth, an invisible force catches him, halting his descent with all the softness of a fluffy cloud, making him blink back owlishly the acquired tears in his weary eyes.

         When a familiar purple gi and white cape finally floated into view, Yamucha blinked harshly, mortification reddening his flushed face further and causing more tears to fall despite his mental protest. Of all the deserts to fly over, in the entire grand world, why did it have to be the one Piccolo was currently haunting? Gods!

         “Had a bit too much to drink, eh?” offered Piccolo evenly, though both knew very well his “fall” had nothing to do with alcohol.

         Yamucha sniffed, harshly wiping his eyes before answering. “Yeah. Thanks for catchin’ me man. If you’ll put me on the ground, I’ll be out your way soon,” the quiver in his voice evident to both, making him cringe.

        “I think you ought to have some herbal tea before taking off again. Come with me,” urged Piccolo evenly, halting to wait for Yamucha to follow after setting him down with his psychokinesis, which the weary ex-bandit did reluctantly.


Yamucha’s eyes widened as he gazed around Piccolo’s house in genuine awe. He hadn’t even known Piccolo had a place besides Kami-sama no Shinden, let alone ever thought he would be invited there by him. It was, in a way, surreal. Though, perhaps not anymore surreal than the rest of his worthless life had been…

          “Stop doing that,” commanded Piccolo curtly, bringing in the tea and setting the cups on his tea table, before sitting down on a large purple cushion.

          “What?” asked Yamucha, truly wondering.

          “You’re sulking. When you think too hard, I can receive your thoughts without trying or wanting to. Self-pity will get you nowhere fast.”

          “Yeah, well who asked you?”

          “You did, the moment you decided to throw your life away for nothing.”

          That did it. Something in Yamucha crumbled then. He wanted so much to run outside and fly away, but his legs wouldn’t budge and his vision began to cloud as tears filled his eyes once more. Gods he wanted to die! Why did-?

          “You do not really wish to die, only for the pain to stop. But I’ll tell you now, when you truly love someone with your whole heart, the loss of them never leaves you. But if you are going to live on in honor, you must pull yourself from the pit and live.”

           “What do you know about being in love, huh?” muttered Yamucha in between sniffling, reluctantly accepting the box of tissues Piccolo handed him.  

          “Believe it or not, I have been in love before, unrequited, so I made myself move on… I loved him too much to hate or maim him, so the most I could do was hope that he was truly happy, and wish that his happiness never ends,” confessed Piccolo, his face remaining stoic, his dark majestic eyes peering at Yamucha so profoundly, he almost bit his tongue.

          Yamucha’s eyes were indeed open as saucers then, his curiosity surely piqued, he unsure if he should ask the obvious question.

          “Gohan,” Piccolo answered knowingly. “As a small child, he wove his way into the fabric of my complex heart, effectively plucking my paternal heartstrings and saving me from bitter loneliness. As I watched him grow from a kind and precocious child to an even more amazing young man, I was proud of him, on so many levels, so grateful to be an important part of his life… But the day he pulled me aside and told me he was going to marry Videl, that he wanted me to be his best man; a piece of me died, a piece I hadn’t known had grown so much over the years. I had fallen in love with him without realizing it, so alive and at peace every time he graced me with his presence.

           “You were there at the wedding. Of course I accepted being his best man, all the while feeling myself die inside like no other time, though keeping it all within. I felt so foolish. I’ve never had a romantic or sexual relationship with anyone, yet I still felt so betrayed, so immensely hurt and lost. And of course, after that, Gohan’s visits became rarer and rarer. Yet I still relished every one, still shared all the possible goodness I could with him when I could.

            “The pain never completely fades, any more the genuine love you have for that person. But if you are willing to live, that’s what you do; to best of your ability, moving on, as time and space waits for no one.”

          Yamucha had not a clue what to say after such an intimate confession, so he settled for sipping his tea, peering down into his cup as if it were the most fascinating thing on the planet.

         “You have every right to die, if that is what you truly wish Yamucha. No one asks to be born. But I hope you will give yourself some time to properly grieve first… Since I have bungled your first suicide attempt, I owe you, in a way. If in the next couple months you can still find no viable reason to keep breathing, I will take your life for you; in a way a lot less painful than what you had chosen tonight. Fair?”

          Yamucha’s eyes were practically swollen with all the tears he’d dropped that night and his voice wasn’t working at all despite his best efforts by then, so he just nodded the best he could in the affirmative, impolitely gulping the still hot tea to take him away from his humiliation. While he was grateful for Piccolo’s efforts, he was surely mortified that anyone had witnessed him in such a weak state.

          “We all have regrets Yamucha. It’s those who choose to be ruthless and heartless that are truly weak to their cores; thus the chasms within them are never filled, them allowing themselves to create more unnecessary destructive holes in every life they can, becoming wholly ignorant of their own foolishness, soul-ache and veritable spiritual annihilation.

         “You have never been weak Yamucha. Take that as a plus. Continue to share your unique wonders with those deserving. Just do not allow yourself to be taken advantage of.” With that, Piccolo grasped his own dragon decorated teacup, beginning to drink with more grace than Yamucha had ever seen in his life, filling him with awe.

         “You may stay here for the night. Just pick one of the open bedrooms. There’s a bathroom complete with toilet and sink on either wing of the house, and you’ve seen the kitchen. Goodnight.” And with that, Piccolo picked up his empty cup and made off for the kitchen, leaving a blinking Yamucha still holding his half empty cup, truly incredulous at Piccolo’s treatment of him, amongst other things.

 

Until The Next…



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