Post by Barlei on Sept 14, 2021 4:34:09 GMT -8
Continued from here: dragonballbd.proboards.com/thread/2648/soothe-aching-soul-time-skip
Two Months Later...
A warrior's training was never finished. Saiyan warriors never knew when to quit.
His bandaged arm shook from exertion as Barlei struggled to complete his one armed push-up. Sweat glistened on his face and his brow scrunched in fierce determination. Inch by inch, he rose from the stone floor.
"Ninety-eight…"
He huffed and puffed, lowering himself just as painstakingly toward the ground.
It'd never taken him this long to recover from a fight before. A week or so, naturally. Even quicker with a regenerative healing tank.
There was no such luxury in this place. Only the sheer grit and determination to accompany his recovery.
Two more. Just two more to go.
He felt a twinge in his arm, near his elbow. His arm trembled beneath his weight, struggling to push him up again.
Barlei grit his teeth. "No, goddamn it. Keep… pushing…"
He huffed, forcing his arm to acquiesce to his will. The pain in his elbow grew worse. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a loud grunt of determination.
"Don't quit!"
Grit and determination could only take him so far. A sharp pain in his elbow caused his arm to collapse beneath him. He hit the ground with a huff, rolling over onto his back.
He wasn't healing fast enough.
He slammed his balled fist into the ground, creating a small crater. Frustration bubbled up within him.
It did not matter how much time had passed; weakness was not a condition based on the passage of time, but on the constitution of one's will. The once proud lieutenant was reduced to a pathetic mess on the ground.
If his men could see him now, he would lose all of their respect. But they couldn't see him - they were dead, and the ghosts of their memories haunted him every waking second.
All dead because of him - because he was too weak and pathetic to protect anyone, much less himself.
"You're getting stronger, Barlei-san."
The petite Saiyan woman entered the room carrying a tray. Her dark hair was twisted into a single braided bun at the nape of her graceful neck.
His eyes were drawn to her form-fitting qipao dress and martial arts slippers as she set the tray down on a stone cleft jutting out from the wall - a makeshift shelf hosting all manner of first aid supplies.
Barlei scoffed, struggling to lift himself onto his cot. "You must've missed the memo. I'm a wreck."
"Strength is not just physical." She glanced away from the steaming cup of tea she was pouring to look at him. "Your spirit is strong, if not unruly."
Barlei chuckled. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."
"Here. Drink this."
She handed him a small, stone cup. Barlei pulled a face, watching as steam curled into the dank, cavern air.
“How long do I have to drink this crap?”
“As long as it is necessary. This herbal remedy is the only reason you’re alive.” She busied herself tidying up the items on the stone cleft. “That and your strong sense of spirit.”
There it was again. The glaring lie. He sighed, gulping down the contents of the cup before passing it back to her.
“This crap is disgusting, but I guess it helps. I can see your role in this group.” He frowned. “You’re a healer. A damn good one. I wanna be this… Fang… you mentioned. But how the hell do I lead a group of strangers?” It took monumental effort for him to admit it aloud. “I want to. I just… I’m not sure if that’s ME anymore.”
“‘Our greatest strength is derived from acknowledging weakness.’ My grandfather used to teach us this truth. Perhaps you should consider embracing it,” she replied. “Now, come. You’re regained enough strength. Time to meet the others.”
She led him through a short series of tunnels. Dappled light spilled into them through rough hewn windows carved into the rocks. He glimpsed the bright, hot desert beyond when he passed them.
They walked through a small antechamber, one wall adorned with a large wooden placard with the Wolf School symbol as well as a stone rack holding a number of weapons: nunchucks, polearms, swords, and the like.
They entered the final, larger chamber where a group of people were milling about. There were four of them: two milled about, talking quietly while the other two engaged in an intense spar in the raised stone circle that dominated the chamber proper.
As they walked in, Barlei heard the sound of a hammer being pulled back. He felt the cold barrel of a gun poking in between his shoulder blades. A gruff voice with an odd robotic rasp filled his ear.
“Well, howdy pard’ner. Been waitin’ ta meet YOU.”
Make that FIVE of them.
This was, oddly enough, not the worst way he'd been greeted. A hush fell over the room. Barlei glanced to his side, but Ria had left him and joined the others in the center of the room. She stood, arms folded and expression stoic, watching the scene unfold.
He felt exposed and vulnerable. Weak. Wrapped in bandages and shuffling like an old man. What a terrible first impression. What did these people want from him? Better yet, what did he have to offer them?
Nothing. It was best to be honest about it.
"Alright. Go ahead and shoot me. But if I survive, I'll beat your ass bloody." He glanced at the others, a light smirk on his face. "After that, feel free to kill me... if you CAN."
An uneasy silence filled the room. It was brighter here—a large shaft of sunlight shone down from a sizeable hole within the roof of this particular cavern. His eyes were still adjusting from the previous darkness of the tunnels, so Barlei couldn't see their expressions clearly just yet.
They all regarded each other for a silent moment. A chuckle, followed by another. Soon, the room filled with some laughter. He felt the barrel of the gun leave his back as a dread-headed male wearing a robotic mask and cowboy hat stepped around him, giving him a painful smack on the back.
"At least this one's got a sense of humor! Maybe this place'll stop bein' such a damn depressing hole."
The pair of cultured looking males bearing long, high ponytails and formal yukatas chuckled amongst themselves. They looked like twins, except for the fact that one bore THREE pairs of eyes. Clearly a demon of some sort.
There was Coriander herself, a deep sort of sadness in the healer's eyes. The man who threatened him—a cyborg with a Western fetish—and a huge blonde female with musculature that rivaled Grisha himself.
He greeted them all in turn as they offered a bit of information. Some how, he felt at ease around them—as if he'd stumbled upon a room of nobodies, much like himself. Maybe it wouldn't feel like leading strangers. Maybe... it'd feel like a real family.
A gob of spit hit the ground at his feet. The room fell silent once more. Barlei stared down at it, his gaze rising as the large blonde woman stomped over to him. She stopped inches in front of him, folding her heavily muscled arms over her sizeable chest.
Her eyes were as icy blue as the cold look she regarded him with.
"I refuse to recognize another weak MAN as my Fang. Not until he PROVES his worth to me."
Barlei blinked. "Wait... you mean you want to FIGHT me?"
More silence. He glanced at Coriander. She met his gaze with cool indifference. Her words rang in his mind. If he were going to be a true leader again, he couldn't back down or show weakness.
He met the towering woman's gaze.
"Sure. I'll fight you. Just gimme a day or so to—"
A fist like stone slammed into his chest, sending him flying backwards off the platform!
WC: 1,327
Two Months Later...
A warrior's training was never finished. Saiyan warriors never knew when to quit.
His bandaged arm shook from exertion as Barlei struggled to complete his one armed push-up. Sweat glistened on his face and his brow scrunched in fierce determination. Inch by inch, he rose from the stone floor.
"Ninety-eight…"
He huffed and puffed, lowering himself just as painstakingly toward the ground.
It'd never taken him this long to recover from a fight before. A week or so, naturally. Even quicker with a regenerative healing tank.
There was no such luxury in this place. Only the sheer grit and determination to accompany his recovery.
Two more. Just two more to go.
He felt a twinge in his arm, near his elbow. His arm trembled beneath his weight, struggling to push him up again.
Barlei grit his teeth. "No, goddamn it. Keep… pushing…"
He huffed, forcing his arm to acquiesce to his will. The pain in his elbow grew worse. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a loud grunt of determination.
"Don't quit!"
Grit and determination could only take him so far. A sharp pain in his elbow caused his arm to collapse beneath him. He hit the ground with a huff, rolling over onto his back.
He wasn't healing fast enough.
He slammed his balled fist into the ground, creating a small crater. Frustration bubbled up within him.
It did not matter how much time had passed; weakness was not a condition based on the passage of time, but on the constitution of one's will. The once proud lieutenant was reduced to a pathetic mess on the ground.
If his men could see him now, he would lose all of their respect. But they couldn't see him - they were dead, and the ghosts of their memories haunted him every waking second.
All dead because of him - because he was too weak and pathetic to protect anyone, much less himself.
"You're getting stronger, Barlei-san."
The petite Saiyan woman entered the room carrying a tray. Her dark hair was twisted into a single braided bun at the nape of her graceful neck.
His eyes were drawn to her form-fitting qipao dress and martial arts slippers as she set the tray down on a stone cleft jutting out from the wall - a makeshift shelf hosting all manner of first aid supplies.
Barlei scoffed, struggling to lift himself onto his cot. "You must've missed the memo. I'm a wreck."
"Strength is not just physical." She glanced away from the steaming cup of tea she was pouring to look at him. "Your spirit is strong, if not unruly."
Barlei chuckled. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."
"Here. Drink this."
She handed him a small, stone cup. Barlei pulled a face, watching as steam curled into the dank, cavern air.
“How long do I have to drink this crap?”
“As long as it is necessary. This herbal remedy is the only reason you’re alive.” She busied herself tidying up the items on the stone cleft. “That and your strong sense of spirit.”
There it was again. The glaring lie. He sighed, gulping down the contents of the cup before passing it back to her.
“This crap is disgusting, but I guess it helps. I can see your role in this group.” He frowned. “You’re a healer. A damn good one. I wanna be this… Fang… you mentioned. But how the hell do I lead a group of strangers?” It took monumental effort for him to admit it aloud. “I want to. I just… I’m not sure if that’s ME anymore.”
“‘Our greatest strength is derived from acknowledging weakness.’ My grandfather used to teach us this truth. Perhaps you should consider embracing it,” she replied. “Now, come. You’re regained enough strength. Time to meet the others.”
She led him through a short series of tunnels. Dappled light spilled into them through rough hewn windows carved into the rocks. He glimpsed the bright, hot desert beyond when he passed them.
They walked through a small antechamber, one wall adorned with a large wooden placard with the Wolf School symbol as well as a stone rack holding a number of weapons: nunchucks, polearms, swords, and the like.
They entered the final, larger chamber where a group of people were milling about. There were four of them: two milled about, talking quietly while the other two engaged in an intense spar in the raised stone circle that dominated the chamber proper.
As they walked in, Barlei heard the sound of a hammer being pulled back. He felt the cold barrel of a gun poking in between his shoulder blades. A gruff voice with an odd robotic rasp filled his ear.
“Well, howdy pard’ner. Been waitin’ ta meet YOU.”
Make that FIVE of them.
This was, oddly enough, not the worst way he'd been greeted. A hush fell over the room. Barlei glanced to his side, but Ria had left him and joined the others in the center of the room. She stood, arms folded and expression stoic, watching the scene unfold.
He felt exposed and vulnerable. Weak. Wrapped in bandages and shuffling like an old man. What a terrible first impression. What did these people want from him? Better yet, what did he have to offer them?
Nothing. It was best to be honest about it.
"Alright. Go ahead and shoot me. But if I survive, I'll beat your ass bloody." He glanced at the others, a light smirk on his face. "After that, feel free to kill me... if you CAN."
An uneasy silence filled the room. It was brighter here—a large shaft of sunlight shone down from a sizeable hole within the roof of this particular cavern. His eyes were still adjusting from the previous darkness of the tunnels, so Barlei couldn't see their expressions clearly just yet.
They all regarded each other for a silent moment. A chuckle, followed by another. Soon, the room filled with some laughter. He felt the barrel of the gun leave his back as a dread-headed male wearing a robotic mask and cowboy hat stepped around him, giving him a painful smack on the back.
"At least this one's got a sense of humor! Maybe this place'll stop bein' such a damn depressing hole."
The pair of cultured looking males bearing long, high ponytails and formal yukatas chuckled amongst themselves. They looked like twins, except for the fact that one bore THREE pairs of eyes. Clearly a demon of some sort.
There was Coriander herself, a deep sort of sadness in the healer's eyes. The man who threatened him—a cyborg with a Western fetish—and a huge blonde female with musculature that rivaled Grisha himself.
He greeted them all in turn as they offered a bit of information. Some how, he felt at ease around them—as if he'd stumbled upon a room of nobodies, much like himself. Maybe it wouldn't feel like leading strangers. Maybe... it'd feel like a real family.
A gob of spit hit the ground at his feet. The room fell silent once more. Barlei stared down at it, his gaze rising as the large blonde woman stomped over to him. She stopped inches in front of him, folding her heavily muscled arms over her sizeable chest.
Her eyes were as icy blue as the cold look she regarded him with.
"I refuse to recognize another weak MAN as my Fang. Not until he PROVES his worth to me."
Barlei blinked. "Wait... you mean you want to FIGHT me?"
More silence. He glanced at Coriander. She met his gaze with cool indifference. Her words rang in his mind. If he were going to be a true leader again, he couldn't back down or show weakness.
He met the towering woman's gaze.
"Sure. I'll fight you. Just gimme a day or so to—"
A fist like stone slammed into his chest, sending him flying backwards off the platform!
WC: 1,327