(no subject)
Journal-
The fifth day of the battle, and I find I have underestimated this world.
The area I was in warmed up enough to rain saturday, all day, and then when the night fell down upon the land, it cooled down again. It was some bad weather. All that was rained on before was covered in ice, which was deceptively being covered with fresh falling snow. At the time, I of course saw the weather as a new challenge, and welcomed its arrival with a determination to train through it all. But as my training had had me travel up higher in altitude, I discovered a village that I had not previously known about before. It was a little moutain village, mainly of sheperds and relatives of them that enjoyed the peace of the high moutain range, but dealt daily with the dangers of living up there as well.
Needless to say I had come training to this range to enjoy my privacy, and I wasn't about to invade the privacy of the people there so I countinued training that night in the fog and ice and snow, by myself far away enough so that they wouldn't notice me. As I was focusing my ki through the howling wind, a heard a human voice, calling for help. I stopped and froze, catching the voice again, and since it was too foggy to see, flew into the direction as fast as I dared to see if I could help.
As I got closer I heard the voice more clearly, as it sobbed in fright. I yelled for the kid to hold on, and flew more quickly into the direction. Pretty soon after, I saw a kid dangling from the cliff. No doubt he had tried to go and gather his father's sheep before the weather came in, and while he was searching the fog came in he had fallen and was hanging by his own two hands to the cliff's edge and slipping.
I immediately acted, flying as fast as I could through whatever was ahead of me to catch the little kid, but before I could catch him the rock he was holding onto broke off and hit the kid hard in the head. I caught the boy, after barely half-second of freefall and held him limp in my arms. I knew he needed help, more help than I could give him, and I flew to the village, not knowing how extensive the damage was.
I knocked on the door to the closest hut and yelled that the boy needed help, an older lady opened the door and screamed, grabbing the boy out of my hands and alerting the other people in the village about "the monster that had attacked poor little Joseph". I stood there trying to explain that I found the boy hanging on the cliff but the men of the village came out with their guns and pitchforks and threatened to kill me if I didn't get out of their town that instant. So not wanting to cause trouble I lifted into the air, the fog hiding me enough so that the men couldn't see me well, but thin enough that I could see the shadows of all of them from the now lit windows of the houses. I heard the men murmur and I watched them move, searching the skies for me, loading and cocking their guns. But the worst of all of it, was a woman's wail that came from the hut I had visited.
The kid was dead.
The monster had killed the kid.
I just floated there in mid-air. I looked at my green hands, and black sharp nails. I had held the boy with these hands. I had hoped to save him with these hands, the hands of a monster.
All of my fighting skills, all of my experience, all of it didn't help me. That kid could have survived if someone faster had been there to save him.
I flew from the village shot to the very summit of that moutain and summoned all of my ki and shot it into the sky in my grief. How many times had I fought to protect this world... and when it came to the simplicity of catching a child... I had failed miserably.
Since then I have not slept, not eaten, not taken on drink of water. I don't deserve those luxuries. I have trained non-stop, forgetting the world, and just trying to take on myself. I'm training because fighting is all I have ever known. It's the only way I know of dealing with the grief.
Joseph...
Piccolo
The fifth day of the battle, and I find I have underestimated this world.
The area I was in warmed up enough to rain saturday, all day, and then when the night fell down upon the land, it cooled down again. It was some bad weather. All that was rained on before was covered in ice, which was deceptively being covered with fresh falling snow. At the time, I of course saw the weather as a new challenge, and welcomed its arrival with a determination to train through it all. But as my training had had me travel up higher in altitude, I discovered a village that I had not previously known about before. It was a little moutain village, mainly of sheperds and relatives of them that enjoyed the peace of the high moutain range, but dealt daily with the dangers of living up there as well.
Needless to say I had come training to this range to enjoy my privacy, and I wasn't about to invade the privacy of the people there so I countinued training that night in the fog and ice and snow, by myself far away enough so that they wouldn't notice me. As I was focusing my ki through the howling wind, a heard a human voice, calling for help. I stopped and froze, catching the voice again, and since it was too foggy to see, flew into the direction as fast as I dared to see if I could help.
As I got closer I heard the voice more clearly, as it sobbed in fright. I yelled for the kid to hold on, and flew more quickly into the direction. Pretty soon after, I saw a kid dangling from the cliff. No doubt he had tried to go and gather his father's sheep before the weather came in, and while he was searching the fog came in he had fallen and was hanging by his own two hands to the cliff's edge and slipping.
I immediately acted, flying as fast as I could through whatever was ahead of me to catch the little kid, but before I could catch him the rock he was holding onto broke off and hit the kid hard in the head. I caught the boy, after barely half-second of freefall and held him limp in my arms. I knew he needed help, more help than I could give him, and I flew to the village, not knowing how extensive the damage was.
I knocked on the door to the closest hut and yelled that the boy needed help, an older lady opened the door and screamed, grabbing the boy out of my hands and alerting the other people in the village about "the monster that had attacked poor little Joseph". I stood there trying to explain that I found the boy hanging on the cliff but the men of the village came out with their guns and pitchforks and threatened to kill me if I didn't get out of their town that instant. So not wanting to cause trouble I lifted into the air, the fog hiding me enough so that the men couldn't see me well, but thin enough that I could see the shadows of all of them from the now lit windows of the houses. I heard the men murmur and I watched them move, searching the skies for me, loading and cocking their guns. But the worst of all of it, was a woman's wail that came from the hut I had visited.
The kid was dead.
The monster had killed the kid.
I just floated there in mid-air. I looked at my green hands, and black sharp nails. I had held the boy with these hands. I had hoped to save him with these hands, the hands of a monster.
All of my fighting skills, all of my experience, all of it didn't help me. That kid could have survived if someone faster had been there to save him.
I flew from the village shot to the very summit of that moutain and summoned all of my ki and shot it into the sky in my grief. How many times had I fought to protect this world... and when it came to the simplicity of catching a child... I had failed miserably.
Since then I have not slept, not eaten, not taken on drink of water. I don't deserve those luxuries. I have trained non-stop, forgetting the world, and just trying to take on myself. I'm training because fighting is all I have ever known. It's the only way I know of dealing with the grief.
Joseph...
Piccolo