Requiem For A Dream

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Requiem For A Dream

Post by Broly on 8/17/2012, 6:14 pm

Black eyes rested on purple hair, adorning the body of a boy who was no longer among the living. It wasn’t uncommon for people to die in his line of work; his business. He’d seen more men die than most soldiers, in fact, he’d snuffed a majority of them out. Was that why this was so weird? Was it because he had never seen someone die, who he had not killed? For a moment, he continued to examine the body of the boy before him.

He had first encountered Ryouji in the woodlands, after his defeat at the hands of Sairai the Softhearted. Their dialogue had not been long, but the point had been established that they would work together until one finally gave into the reaper. Still, something about this entire scenario just felt lucid, as though it were a dream. It was as though he was a child again, staring curiously at the body of a man he had just broken.

He considered, for a moment, simply leaving the body of the broken child in the woodland cabin in which he currently found himself. However, that seemed a little too disrespectful, even by his standards. The boy had shown his spirit through their time together, the least Broly could do for him was to erase the shame of his death from the universe. At least, that was how he viewed death. He viewed the lacking of a soul as a burden.

Then again, it wasn’t as if the boy was in any place to really feel a burden. He had fulfilled a prophecy not meant for him, he had been consumed by a power greater than he was able to bear. In a way, it reminded the Saiyan of himself. He was the one who was always supposed to lose himself in a bout with his own power; he was the one who was always supposed to be consumed in a brilliant flash of energy and light.

He took in a steadying breath, and knelt down toward the boy. Slowly, as if afraid he’d break the boy as he had broken so many others, Broly grabbed him by the shirt. For a moment more, he considered the time in which Ryouji had spent among the living. The battles they had gone through together, under a foreign sun. It was odd, the tinting effect loss had upon the mind. It changed memories that were otherwise unimportant to something almost key.

Still, the boy had been the first one who hadn’t seemed to be using him. While he knew, deep down, that all the boy wanted was his power...Something about the death seemed to erase that. It was as if he hadn’t been out to truly harm him after all. It may not have been true, but something within him was forcing him to think of the bright side. Perhaps it was some deeply rooted psychological reflex, preventing him from tarnishing a memory.

Though, it wasn’t as though the boy had done much for him. He had promised him his secrets, and yet here he stood rationalizing the boy’s existence. For some reason, it seemed as though he owed it to him. It was an odd sensation, the debt of gratitude. He was not used to feeling anything quite like it; nor was he very keen on experiencing it again. The memories ripping their way through his head were too irritating.

As he stepped through the threshold of his humble little hut, his head turned upward toward the stars. He knew exactly how he planned of being rid of the body; it was not a hard thing for him to do, considering he was the strongest warrior in the galaxy. For what seemed like an eternity, he held the boy by his shirt collar, just above the dirt. The stars above twinkled and glew, casting their shine on the grass as if intent to blind.

He strode out to the center of his clearing, energy gathering around his body and covering the grass in a pale green light. He had not seen this coming when they’d originally met; he had always imagined it would end in a climactic battle, with Broly snuffing out the boy’s life before he could be betrayed yet again, by someone he had acquired something less than hatred for. As the heat of his aura consumed his body, he took aim. While he did not really need to be precise, it was probably prudent.

As Broly’s power rose, tendrils of emerald light wrapped themselves around Ryouji’s limp body, which still hung in the Saiyan’s hands. Each small piece of light conformed itself to the boy’s figure, closing in tightly to bind his arms and his legs. The boy’s white suit was being dyed by Broly’s power, the all encompassing might which he abused oh-so-often, in order to further his own goals and ends, in order to create peace throughout the universe.

The energy eventually covered him head to toe, dressing him up as if he were an oddly large caterpillar. Broly’s fist clenched, tightening his grip on the boy. Eyes glaring daggers at the stars themselves, he began to spin, keeping the boy’s body at arm’s length as he moved and rotated along the ground. Slowly, his body began to rise; he was preparing to sling the boy into space, keeping him safe from atmospheric disintegration with his energy. As the strongest warrior in the galaxy, it should have been possible for him to preserve the body.

He released the body from his grip as he reached his top speed, watching as it flew off into the sky, glowing a pale emerald as it soared. He had not bothered himself with the preservation of the dead prior to this, but something about the boy’s time with him made it almost a requirement. They had done much work together.

They had defeated the demon, Ian Lancaster. They had created a bond between five misfit warriors, who had been unable to find a home that would claim them. They had managed to create a dynasty, they had managed to create the single most significant force in the universe, other than himself. It was as if he had done too much to simply die now; to lose himself to a force like that.

While he watched the boy’s body fly off into space, he reflected upon the battle with Rex and Ralia. It had been one of the fiercest and most confusing of Broly’s life. He had jumped from target to target, from that woman to the other woman to that man Rex. Eventually, when they had fallen, only Broly and the boy remained alive on the battlefield. They had managed outlast four other warriors who were of equal or superior strength, a feat that was impressive by any standard.

Now, all that was left, was for Broly to finish their battle with the Organization. He had managed to overcome Rex, he had defeated Ralia; he had outlasted Ivander and brought about the downfall of Balzaar the demon. He was finally on the verge of finishing the work that they started by obtaining the first dragonball.

Hesitantly, he tore his eyes from the boy’s flying corpse, as it turned into nothing but a twinkle. He would continue to fly through the vestiges of space until one day, Broly tracked him down and issued a proper burial. As it stood in his eyes, one was not allowed to rest in the dirt until their battle was complete. Eventually, Broly would find his own ki signature, when it was the last one remaining.

Then he would bury the boy on some foreign soil, when their vision was complete. Whenever the universe was free of tyranny, free of fear, and free of distrust and betrayal... He would bury the boy.


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Broly
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Level: 89
Race: Saiyan
Location: Earth

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