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The Book of Shin	By : soul2singer Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1797 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Book of Shin
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-Notes
- 9-8
- 1
- 2
We arrived the evening before the Tournament, touching down in the mountains just outside Salzburg, on the German-Austrian border. The setting sun was turning the western sky a daffodil gold and was lining the clouds in champagne fire. The evening breezes fell from the mountaintop glaciers to wrap about us in frigid, yet affectionate, welcome.

I breathed deep, letting the air slide down to my lungs, awakening each nerve along the way, bringing with it the rich, silky scent of the forest around us. I then sighed, the momentary frost tickling my nose.

Turning to look up at my companion, my ears began to twitch as the breezes curled around their tips.

"I think I first want a cup of coffee," I said, recalling a bed-and- breakfast nearby, on the outskirts of the new city.

Fifteen minutes later we were sipping from white porcelain tea cups, listening to a recording of Mozart's Requiem (1). Luckily, there weren't many Americans there�mind you, I don't have a problem with Americans, I love them, but the sad fact is that if you get a large enough group together in any one place in Salzburg, some over enthusiastic housewife is bound to pull out The Sound of Music. Again, I should clarify. Nothing against Julie Andrews�the woman's a doll, absolutely wonderful. But. . . how can I put this delicately? Said feature is a . . . specialized instrument in Hell.

I remember the first time we put Frieza through that treatment�what a party that turned out to be! We invited everyone to come see�King Vegeta, Bardock, Guru, a whole host of others�and they all sat in an adjoining room separated by a one-way mirror. Frieza was on the other size, unaware of both the upcoming event and his audience.

We only made him watch it 500 times in a row that session. By the 314th time he heard that the hills were alive with the sound of music, he was beginning to twitch. I don't think I'd ever seen King Vegeta look so happy. Of course, that may have also had something to do with the fact that Bardock was by that point sitting in his lap, doing what people in love tend to do when in each other's laps. Like father, like son. Now, if only Vegeta-the-Younger would get a clue.

But I digress�back to coffee, Mozart, and Salzburg. . .

The coffee in Austria is some of the best in the Universe. It's rich and smooth, not too bitter�as the drink often tends to be, but not to sweet either. Just right.

We sat there, discussing what city to visit first that night. I wished to stay in cooler climates, as the tournament was going to be warm enough as it was. So, after wandered musings, we decided to start the night nearby, in Berlin.

It was at about this time that the Dies Irae(2) movement began, which is the universal favorite of any Requiem from anytime. Well, any Requiem that has a Dies Irae, which the Brahms and the Durufle lack. Anyway, this meant that we couldn't go until the movement was over. I mean, it's so rousing, really gets the blood going. A good theme song for the coming period of time. But if we sat through the Dies Irae, we might as well wait until the end of the Rex Tremendae(3). After all, it is about. . . well, me. It was only a matter of four minutes and thirty-eight seconds difference. Berlin could wait that long. Ego- boosting? Hell, yeah, but come on, how often is it that a Kai gets to sit down with a cuppa joe and listen to musical genius with the sure knowledge that the crap is all still coming, but on a timetable, so ya might as well just chill and take a listen? Why do you think Grand Kai hauls that boom-box around with him?

But all too soon the movement was over, so we got up, walked back under the stars, and flew to Berlin. I should mention at this point that I was not garbed as you are probably used to seeing me. That blue and orange outfit is only when I'm acting in official capacity. But when I'm laying low, or getting my once-in-an-eon "goof-off" time, I dress like the natives. In this case, as we approached Berlin, black vinyl pants, Pradas on my feet, and a tee-shirt with band logos that changed every five minutes. Yeah, from a distance I looked like a mini-punk, what with the hair and the jewelry, but no real gutter punk can afford Pradas. Allow me a little indulgence during some "time-off," in that calm before the storm.

Of course, I never really take time off. If I did, the Universe would stop existing. Julian of Norwich used that story with the hazelnut. Quantum physicists refer to it in terms of observationality. Same thing, really.

We landed in old East Berlin, where buildings were still crumbling wearily to the ground. Faded swastikas sat dully among the ripped posters and graffiti, their spider-like limbs seeking purchase, but loosing to the glamour of Limp Biskit, Nelly Furtado, and "Deine Mutti."(4) The street ended, and we came across the decaying ruins of the wall that once split this city in two.

Hopping up on the concrete ruins, I stretched my arms out and walked across the jagged edges as though it were a high beam, allowing myself to feel like the child I never was. I hummed a little tune as I went, not quite loosing myself in the charade of mortality. Kibito followed dutifully behind, the Alfred to my Batman.

On the west side we visited a bar called the Apocalyse Now, after the film of the same name. Kibito installed himself in a corner, as is his wont, as I took a place at the bar. The place was rather empty, with only a few other patrons. The woman behind the bar looked tired, which wasn't surprising, considering her circumstances. I watched her from my perch as she finished wiping down the counter at the other end, pushing errant strands of mousy brown hair behind her ears as she did so. She sighed then, as she threw the rag somewhere beneath the counter and made her way over to where I sat.

I ordered a Rauchbier, pulling out the needed zenni, and placing them gently down. She brought the beer over, and I thanked her.

"About Willi," I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. She froze, eyes widening like a lamb caught in the headlights.

I continued, just as softly. "You really should take the kids and leave him. You don't deserve the crap he's been giving you."

She stared for a few more seconds, before shaking her head. "No, I can't leave him�I love him! Besides, how could I raise the children on my own?"

"No," I said, sipping the drink she'd brought me. "You don't love him. You love your idea of who he is, or rather, who he could be. That's not him. At least, that's not him as he is in the present. As for how you would get along, think about it? How much does he bring in? How much does he take out? Does he ever actually take care of the children, or does he just complain when they accidentally break something?"

She thought about this for a moment. "So, you're saying I'd be better off without him?"

I put the beer down. "What I'm saying, Theresa, is that you are a good woman. All your life you have tried to do the good, responsible thing, but somehow ended up with two beautiful children who you struggle to care for, a dead end job, and a boyfriend who likes to see your skin turn different colors. But, instead of leaving, you stick by him, waiting for a miracle, for some dove to descend out of Heaven and make everything better. But my dear, miracles, despite what the stories say, never just happen. You gotta make your own miracle. You want to wake up one morning without bruises, without feeling sore? Get away from him. You want to have some more money so you can get Sebastian a new sweater for winter? Get away from the one who's draining what little you make. You want to spare Elisabeth some of what you've had to go through these past few years? Remove her from the threat."

She thought about it some more. "And what will happen to Willi?"

I smiled. She really was too good for him.

"Willi? Well, two things could happen. One, he could just shrug his shoulders and continue his life as it is, until he finally overdoses in an alleyway and is mourned by the rats. Or, two, your leaving would be a kick in the pants, and he'd actually start working for himself to survive. With his energies focused on survival, he'll end up ridding himself of his worst habits, and, in the end, might actually come close to your vision of him. There are a few other scenarios, but they're all pretty much variations of those two."

She looked at me, eyes widening.

"Wait a minute," she said. "Who are you, anyway?"

Usually, that was the first thing people asked me.

I merely resumed drinking my beer, looking straight into her eyes the whole time, smiling.

"I know," she said. I lifted an eyebrow. "You're an angel, aren't you!"

I shook my head, chuckling. "No," I pointed to Kibito in the corner. "That's an angel. Not me."

Of course, she didn't believe me, but then, I never insisted that anyone believe me. Or in me, actually.

We spoke a few more words before I left. I made sure to leave her an especially large tip�she was good at her job, after all. And, with an unlimited supply of zenni, I can afford to be generous.

It was pretty much the same for the rest of the night. In Calcutta, it was a rich man dealing with the loss of his son. In New York, a heroin addict who was so desperate for a way out that he tried to fly away. In Johannesburg, a mulatto orphan shunned by the rest of the city. In Belfast, a girl who got caught in the crossfire. In Tokyo, a young boy who was having trouble reading.

To be honest, those were some of the best fourteen hours I'd spent in a long time. It quite rare that I get to work on the details, get to work one on one with people in the physical. It's actually what I do best, but usually people ignore me because their eyes can't see me. I know, you're thinking, geez, what kinda "goof-off time" is that, zipping from city to city, exposing myself to the slimy underbelly of humanity? Let me tell you, it's my favorite hobby. Kinda like polishing silver.

We were in Placentia, yakking it up with a couple of Rastafarians when the sun finally caught up with us, rising over the oh-so-blue sea in a gentle explosion of light. I had finished my lime juice several hours before, but Kibito was just then finishing up his pina colada. Which was served in a little coconut. With a little umbrella. It was so incredibly cute that I began to snicker. He shot me one of those "Dammit, I've got a reputation to keep so shut up!" looks, which only made me laugh harder.

But the morning zephyrs were calling, so Kibito and I thanked the brothers who owned the place and took to the skies. It was time to go to the tournament, and see the world's champions.

___________________________________

(1)Requiem-- a Mass for the dead. Means "Rest", as in, peace.

(2)Dies Irae-- "Day of Wrath". Lots of smack-talk on behalf of the Almighty.

(3)Rex Tremendae--"Terrible (as in, awe-inspiring. old old meaning of the word)King"

(4) Deine Mutti-- "Your Mom." :)
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The Book of Shin