Dragonball M, Chapter 1: Silent Menace Aproaches!

[KingofPie]

There in the throne room, he sat. Boss Tako. Sasheem expected an oversized Octopus, just like how the other sea creature's he encountered....but what he saw was no Octopus...Boss Tako a Kraken. The giant cephalopod sat on a throne, slumping in the smaller as much as an octopus could. "TAKOOOO!" it shouted.

"Boss Tako! You remember Seal and I!"Kelpie shouted, swinging her fist in the water. "We've come back to take what's ours! You see Sasheem here?! He's gonna kick your ass!" she stated pointing at the Majin with her other hand, repeatedly. "Isn't that right, Sa-..."

"ZzzzZZZZzzzz," Sasheem snored, appearing to have fallen asleep.

"Uh, Sasheem?!" Kelpie asked blankly.


The kraken looked on, blinking twice...before beginning to erupt in laughter, "TAKOKOKOKO! TAAAAAKOKOKOKOKO!"

Sasheem, in the midst of his impromptu nap, snored up a snot bubble, which flew from his nostrils and subsequently made it's way towards the Kraken. "Umi...bozooka..." Sasheem muttered as the bubble blasted across the face of Boss Tako, who quickly tried to block it with one of it's tentacles, only for it to be blown clean off. "TAKKKOOOOO!" the beast roared.

"Eh?" Sasheem stated groggily, the noise snapping him awake. Quickly assessing his surroundings, he soon began to recollect what he was doing before his sudden bout of drowsiness. "Oh! Tako...!"

"TAKO! TAKO!" Boss Tako shouted in a rage, lifting itself from the throne, revealing it was actually a great deal bigger than it had first appeared. Swinging it's tentacles, it slapped Sasheem across the room, causing him to smash through the wall into the next room.

The Majin was buried under a small mound of stone, but it didn't keep him down for long. He was surprised that the boss of the Tako Clan was that much stronger than the other pathetic members. The Majin wasn't worried, however...the result would be the same. Boss Tako would become takoyaki. Sasheem launched himself at the kraken shooting Samehada's to slice off it's tentacles..only to witness the creature regrow them near-instantaneously.

"...!!!!!" The Majin exclaimed as the kraken moved with surprising speed as it swam up to the ceiling and quickly slammed one of it's tentacles down upon the Majin smashing him through the floor.

Kelpie meanwhile, while Sasheem was fighting Boss Tako, snuck into the throne room's treasure vault. It had been cleared. "Where did they move the treasure...? Boss Tako's a lazy bastard...it couldn't have been moved too far..." she muttered aloud, before looking out the window and spotting the sunken pirate ship just behind the castle. "Hmm..."

"Stoo...pid," Sasheem muttered. "Same....HADA!" The Majin shouted, activating Naga Palm and launching Samehadas from each hand, which sliced through multiple tentacles once they hit. Sasheem followed this up by shooting Venom Mist through the water at some of the kraken's tentacles, burning the stumps so that they would no longer regenerate...though from what Sasheem could tell, this was only temporary.

Speeding forth the Majin tackled the kraken, smashing through the stone castle wall and into the sea, right in front of the sunken ship. The castle fell in on itself as a result. From the deck of the sunken ship, Kelpie looked down and sighed. "Guess this was inevitable..." she sighed, briefly wondering if she could escape with the crown herself.

"Same...HADA!" Sasheem shouted, slicing the giant octopus in four ways. Stretching his arms out, Sasheem placed each section of the octopus into one of the cannons on the ship. Kelpie, wondering if the cannons would even fire when underwater, decided to test and see if it would work. To her surprise and amusement it did, though the Octopus didn't get launched very far.

Sasheem, seeing this zapped several of the stone remains of the castle, turning them into batter. Quickly molding each globule of batter around each chunk of octopus, Sasheem cooked them all with blasts of ki. Mission: Takoyaki was completed. The Majin quickly ate the spoils of the battle. Well, the secondary spoils. There was still a crown.

Kelpie swam over and hugged Sasheem. "You did it, Sasheem, you idiot!" She exclaimed. "I can't believe it.;..after all these years, maybe we can rebuild. Maybe our kingdom will return one day!"

"Ippi! Ippi!" Sasheem stated, wondering why the mermaid was so happy.

"Now...the treasure should be..." Kelpie wondered aloud.


"I think it's here, in the captain's cabin!" Seal noted, as the Majin and the mermaid swam over to follow him. Sasheem saw numerous boxes of golden coins and jewels. There was a golden sword that looked kind of coll, but he didn't care about any of those things...what he wanted was the crown. Flipping several treasure chests over, Sasheem let the contents float around the room, until he spotted what he was searching for...a golden crown...a green gem embedded within it. "Ohhhh!" Sasheem exclaimed, greedily grabbing the crown, attempting to pull the stone out of it with all his strength....but to no avail. "Bah! Uragooooo!"

"Told ya so!" Kelpie winked. "My dad is the only one that knows the spell to remove it."

"Bahhh..." Sasheem muttered, before he saw something else that caught his eye. Another treasure map. The Majin grabbed it...and the contents made his eyes go wide. The map was titled, 'Path to the Blue Gem of Life', and unlike the map that the Merpeople royal family had given to him, it was fairly easy to decipher, even for Sasheem. "Oh!" he exclaimed, letting the map sink into his skin to store it.

"Okay, you ready to go?" Kelpie asked as Sasheem turned around to see her brandishing the cool sword from earlier along with the various other treasure wrapped around her and Seal.

Sasheem nodded, slightly exasperated as the amount of gold his two current companions couldn't possibly hope to carry back.

Two days later...

The journey to the farm from the castle had always been long, but now with the knowledge of where they were going, made it a much safer trip. The King and Queen looked grateful and teary eyed at the trio's return. "Thank you Sir Sasheem," the King greeted. "You and my daughter...have made the two of us so proud...The crown of my forefathers...And the sword I had thought lost for ages...If we had this, we would not have lost to that damn Boss Tako!"

"I did tell you before, you probably left it under the couch..." Kelpie noted. "And you won't have to worry about Boss Tako anymore! We can take everything back! We can take back our kingdom, our old lives!"

"I see...it's a shame things couldn't end differently, but at least that cretin will no longer harm the innocents in our waters or disrupt the balance of the oceans," the King stated. Sasheem was suddenly reminded of the blue oni and her pie that never came into fruition. His stomach growled. "But, as for re-taking our kingdom...Kelpie..."

"Living as farmers has humbled us, I think," the Queen responded. "We work hard, take care of our livestock and crops, sell it to those who good folk who pay us well and provide for people. One day we will return to our Kingdom..but for now let us dwell on what really matters right now. Ensuring the sea is a safe and bounteous place for all..."

"Mother....father," Kelpie began to tear up, herself, proud of her parents.

"BO-RING! BO-RING! GREEN! GREEN!" Sasheem interrupted, demanding his reward.

"Of course, of course," the King chuckled. If you don't mind, please leave the house and wait in the field while I perform the ancient rituals. They are sacred to my people, so outsiders are not allowed to hear...lest the spell to free the gem not work."

Sasheem glanced over, mentally thinking that the King better not be lying to him, before acquiescing and stepping outside to wait in the field. As soon as the door was shut, Sasheem's stomach began to growl. He glanced around...the sea cows were right there..."

A few minutes later...

The King stepped out of the door, the crown on his head....but the green stone lying in the palm of his hand. "Sir Sasheem! Your justly earned...re...ward...." he King stood in shock as he saw their livelihood; their crops and their sea cows...all gone. All that remained outside was Sasheem, who happened to be belching.

Noticing the stone in the King's hand, Sasheem greedily snatched it and absorbed it into his skin. "Oh! Green!" the Majin exclaimed, wondering at first if he could access it's power...and then how he'd break it to finally destroy his toilety prison for good.

"Sir...Sasheem..." The King spat through gritted teeth. "Thank you...for your assitance...but now I believe you need to go."

Sasheem gave the King the finger.

The King reached for it's sword and Kelpie began to wave goodbye with a irritated sigh. The Majin scoffed as he doubted the power the King proclaimed the blade had, even as it begun to glow...

Five Minute's Later, Kami's Lookout

If anyone was present, they would see Sasheem launched across the sky, a stream of energy trailing behind him as he soared over the lookout, screeching. Eventually he would land once more in the sea, far, far, on the other side of the lookout.

[Yun Lao]

Ochazuke nodded solemnly to Charco. Though certainly the difficulty rendered in breathing through seized lungs was no illusion, it is difficult to train intuition without the experience of feeling.

"That shape of fear in your memory, this was a short brush with it," he said. "When you were brought low and into the little death it brings, it stole your rationality and seized on instinct."

He looked to him upon his spot on the floor and let him gather his breath there. This would allow him to engrave this feeling in his memory.

"Instinct is a thing for animals. It is no substitute for intuition. You have a great deal of pride rooted in that foundation of your technique. The instinct of death will take that away from you, just as I had taken your breathing."

Most men crumpled and choked on their panic when they forgot to take their air. However, Charco had done just the opposite, planting his feet to fight back. The training he'd had would not allow him to accept less.

"Your lashing out shows you are not so easily swayed, but this too is a deception. You know intuitively the death-instinct can heighten your edge. All the same, it fixed your limbs to a rehearsed routine. All you could think of was striking back, and so seized by this desire you'd lost yourself to it. The mentality of no-mind is not the mentality without mind, understand? There is a difference between accepting your circumstances and resigning to your fate."

After some time, the youth rose to a seated position as he contemplated Ochazuke's words. It was fairly clear at the surface that kikojutsu as a whole was something that drastically went against all that his style stood for, but after that little exercise, the gap between them had grown to the size of a continent.

There is a difference between accepting your circumstances and resigning to your fate...

The words lingered in his mind and he slowly tore each of them apart, pondering over each interpretation he could conceive of their meaning. As he had imagined beforehand, this was going to take a while to fully understand.

"How do you fight instinct?" He asked, not speaking in general, but rather addressing Ochazuke's own methods in this matter, "How did you find the third choice?"

[The Dog]

Shiro, tears in her arms and her body littered with deep cuts of varying sizes, glared at the remaining monsters that had assaulted her. They were currently moving around her warily on all fours, looking for an opening to attack her.

Shiro's eyes glowed and she swept her laser vision across the snow before them, causing the monsters to leap back and apart. Shiro then raised both her hands, pointed at the monsters, and fired twin barrages of energy blasts, the creatures finally deciding to cut their losses and run, bounding away from her.

Sighing, Shiro felt her healing nanites begin working on fixing her injuries as she began walking again, already feeling her pain lessen as her wounds vanished.

"How much longer until I get to this place?" Shiro wondered aloud. The world seemed to take pity upon her, as she passed through an invisible barrier, and what appeared to be a small home with a little bald wrinkly man sweeping the front porch, back to her. Seeing him, Shiro frowned and walked carefully closer, not taking her eyes off of him.

"Hello, strange one." the old man said without turning around or stopping his sweeping, and Shiro paused before she answered "hello sir, my name is Shiro."

"My name Laozi. What brings you to my home?" he asked, and Shiro answered "I have come in search of an element that can only be found upon this mountain."

Laozi tensed up and stopped his sweeping, but didn't turn around and asked "Why do you search for it?"

"To help my sister and I perform a mission given to us by Kami." Shiro answered, causing the old man to relax as he said "Ah, so you have been given a mission by Fife. How is that dear man by the way?"

Shiro swallowed as she said "He is no longer Kami, it is now a woman who was once his student before he became wicked and fell, or so it was believed. It was later found out that a strange being killed him and used his lifeless body as a puppet."

"That is a tragedy. I hope that he is at peace." Laozi muttered, then finally turned around to Shiro, a smile on his face as he said "But enough on that. You should come in where we can discuss the element you seek."

Shiro walked up to the house and entered, followed by Laozi who shut the door behind her.

----------------------------

Sitting at a small table in the house's kitchen with a teacup before her, Shiro watched as the man grabbed a fresh pot of tea and carried it over to the table. Pouring some of the drink into her cup, Laozi repeated it with his own cup before taking his own seat.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself and your sister?" Laozi asked with a smile, sipping at his tea.

Taking a sip of her own, Shiro leaned back and began telling the tale of how she and Midori came to be.

[grampagen]

Behind him, in the confines of the ship, the tiger spoke, her growling, deep, voice carrying something the Nevadian had not heard directed at him in quite some time.

Hate.

"Me." Held confirmed, turning to the voice that addressed him from the darkness, Peering through it as if to stalk him. Even know, captured and restrained as she was, beaten within an inch of her life, Held felt a very real concern for his safety.

Which, should have been expected. There was little doubt in his mind, that were she able to muster the strength, she would have tried to rend his head from his shoulders.

His eyes glanced away from hers, eying the familiar capsules in her hand, which housed the treasure which he had fastidiously secured at length during the aftermath of combat. Was this some attempt of taunting him, the constant clacking of metal? Or was this perhaps the only way she had left to pass the time until judgement fell upon her?

Whatever feelings the Nevadian had, his poise betrayed none of it, impassively looking upon his fallen opponent.

The tension was immense enough to choke the very air out of the room. Held, if nothing else, was skilled in the subtle art of attempting to relive tension.

"I was hoping you'd be asleep." He said with a weary sigh, "So much for this going smoothly."

I should have just waited for Jinzi.

"I have accounting to do. And, well, I can't really count what isn't before me...." He glanced at the pyramid of capsules to the side of Kenshiko, obscured by the darkness.

"So, here I am."

Kenshiko wordlessly continued to press the capsules together. Even with her aura suppressed there was still something sharp in the air that sank in the lowlit darkness like a cold knife.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Two of a kind, their numbers hidden in shadow, the heavy walls of metal in such little things bounced, rattled, and continued to press against each other there where they hunging by their triggers. The seal to the Raiders' vault held once again in the Sergeant's hand. She looked idly to the man who'd laid the finishing blow and a glint of white shone through parted lips.

"A day's work for a day's pay," she said, "Is that what's got a Xeno merc eating out of Pantaloon's palms? Accounting, heh."

One more press of capsules against one another, and then they stilled. Spreading her fingers, she let them fall callously onto the scattered pile beside her.

"If that's all this pile represents to you, then why should be afraid to count it? You had no problem taking it, and it's a long way to fall from heaven. Does it make you uncomfortable to own it?"

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

"I..." she started before trailing off after Ishtar told her that she would be there for her. Words failed the both of them, but the feelings passed between them spoke larger volumes than the longest speech ever could. From Ishtar, the desire to offer her whatever she needed from her; from Sarada, unbridled gratitude and appreciation. The Oni laying at her side, whose arms were wrapped warmly around her body, could provide the kind of comfort that Maiz could not.

She wanted to forget what she had just forced herself to relive. She needed to pry herself from the past and return to the present. She didn't want to feel anything negative anymore, only positive things. There were only two things that could accomplish that. "Thank you," she stated, offering verbal affirmation of the feelings of gratitude she transmitted moments earlier. "I just... I want to forget everything I just felt." She looked away, feeling strangely abashed about what she was about to say. "I... want you to... have me." If her skin weren't so dark, she would have been bright red. Her face felt so hot from just the words passing through her lips.

"Then, when you're done, I'm going to punch you in the face until you learn how to dodge. How does that sound?"

As the two laid there together, the warmth and comfort offered given time to work; Ishtar could feel it as the emptiness that filled Sarada from the moment the story had finished, slowly ebbed. And while the undercurrents of everything else- pain, fear, helplessness, guilt- continued to linger weakly, new feelings slowly rose to the fore. Feelings of gratitude, and appreciation ... and above all else a desire to forget. Which Ishtar, more than anyone else, fully understood. After all what the Saiyan had shared, both in word and in feelings, and what the golden-eyed Oni herself had been forced to experience; was not simply a pain that could be forgotten once the burden was shared. No ... the Oni knew well, it would be a long time before the suffering inflicted as the result of two- Parsley, and this ... beast- was a thing that could be managed. So for now, what her bedmate wished for, would be enough for now. Perhaps more than that, even.

And as the feelings of warmth, and comfort, and even ... and all the positive emotions Ishtar had denied herself for centuries, began to filter through the connection. Ishtar decided that she wanted nothing more than this ... and to be there for Sarada no matter what.

Whatever it takes ...

It was a few moments after this decision then- the two simply content for the moment to simply embrace and be embraced- before Sarada slowly managed to vocalize her thanks, and express a desire to forget the negativity that had permeated their first night of bliss together. And that itself was something Ishtar mirrored. There would be enough time to work through the grief, and pain of old memories later; now that the burden could be shared. And it would not do, for the memory of their night together to be marred by such things, besides. So when Sarada then admitted amidst a flood of embarrassment, and a blossoming warmth that spread from her face down to her sex, that she wished to be taken until Ishtar was finished; the golden-eyed Oni slowly tilted Sarada's head back before kissing her softly on the lips. The pleasure resonating between the two enough to nearly drown out everything else. And when the kiss finally broke the Oni rested her head against Sarada's own; the Oni's own feelings of happiness, and warmth, and ... love ... passing between the two before she finally spoke.

"That sounds like a wonderful plan ..." Ishtar whispered, trailing off only so that she could slowly move into position over Sarada. "... if I leave you with the strength to throw a punch. Now ... you revealed to me what you know of pleasure, earlier. It is my turn now."

And before Sarada could respond, Ishtar took the Saiyan and revealed to her all that she knew; a thing that took the Oni until the dawn of the next day.

--

What had passed between the two women that evening and into the morning, was nothing short of wonderful. And in the end, Ishtar had shown Sarada a great many things; the Oni also using her own golden Ki, and electricity to manipulate the Saiyan's body in ways that had never been done before as every inch of her body was explored; and lovingly tended to. And all of it ... every kiss, every caress ... Every blissful offering of pleasure and pain that had been felt by one; had been felt by the other. Amplified in the end also, by their own emotions; as they filtered across the bond the two now shared. And when it was finished, Ishtar lay with Sarada- wet with sweat, and nectar- wrapped in her arms as the light of dawn filtered in through a nearby window. Breathing heavily, it took several moments for the golden-eyed Oni calm down, and when she finally had, she pulled the young Saiyan close, and offered her a weak kiss on the neck.

"Enough for now, I think ... and how was it ?"

[Miburo]

Kenshiko wordlessly continued to press the capsules together. Even with her aura suppressed there was still something sharp in the air that sank in the lowlit darkness like a cold knife.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Two of a kind, their numbers hidden in shadow, the heavy walls of metal in such little things bounced, rattled, and continued to press against each other there where they hunging by their triggers. The seal to the Raiders' vault held once again in the Sergeant's hand. She looked idly to the man who'd laid the finishing blow and a glint of white shone through parted lips.

"A day's work for a day's pay," she said, "Is that what's got a Xeno merc eating out of Pantaloon's palms? Accounting, heh."

Xeno? You think it would kill her to just say Nevadian....Assuming she even knows what one is.

"Well all have our vices, I suppose." Held replied with a forced smile of his own, concealing the barb of annoyance that pierced into his side at her words. He had expected every word from her mouth to drip with hatred like saliva, but the experience was still discomforting. "I suppose you humans might consider me the representation of your sin of greed, but I'm perhaps quite modest by my own peoples standards."

Perhaps? Who am I kidding....I don't think very many of us get tunnel vision like I do....It's the only reason I'm in the forsaken room with this woman...Good grief.

"Still, for the sake of clarity." Held replied, his smile fading somewhat has he grew tired of the artifice when dealing with such a cantankerous woman, "You don't solely think I went through all this trouble for money, do you?"

He eyed Kenshiko, his face a mixture of confusion, and mild befuddlement. Surely, Willia must have explained something about the Dragonballs to her?

"I won't say I'm beyond your assessment of me, but if you and Ochazuke were as close as he alluded, you can't think he was brought here because of Zeni, yeah?"

One more press of capsules against one another, and then they stilled. Spreading her fingers, she let them fall callously onto the scattered pile beside her.

"If that's all this pile represents to you, then why should be afraid to count it? You had no problem taking it, and it's a long way to fall from heaven. Does it make you uncomfortable to own it?"

Held was silent for a moment, the echo of metal on metal briefly piercing the silence between the two.

"Why would it?" He asked at last, placing a hand on the side of his hip, "I won't pretend I can't empathize with you on some level, but are we going to pretend that you raised all these funds baking cookies? That every rumor about you lot was just based on a misunderstanding?"

The Raiders certainly had motive for their actions, but that only went so far to absolve them of their sins, no doubt confusing vengeance and justice as a result of their pain.

He moved forward to the seat housing the treasure, carefully examining it.

"Your boss sunk an entire ship to get to Pantaloon, partly because I annoyed her. I didn't see anything in the paper about her donating to the victims."

So much...I should have brought a wheelbarrow.

"Or was this all going to charity? There's no honor among thieves."

[Tami]

She nods shyly, "Same for me. We'll see each other soon." Meagan steps back, her hand refusing to let go of his until she had no choice. Then she playfully smirked slightly, "Don't forget to put a muffin button in Held's ship." she winked then walked outside, pausing for a moment to wave, before leaving the building.

Though it was getting late, she decided to walk a little before the long flight back to the Lookout.

As she walked, Meagan heard and sensed movement behind her. Then she sensed something moving quickly towards her from the tree above. There was a slashing sound as a blade moved quickly through the air....

Thanks to he near daily time in the White Room, training against nearly everyone she has ever known or met, as well as her training with Eva that helped heighten her senses, it should be no surprise that Meagan dodge this attack. What was a surprise was who she saw when her attacker revealed herself.



There was no doubt about it, the woman who now faced her bore an uncanny resemblance to Chris the Knife, so much so that Meagan was certain there was a family relationship.

The woman twirled her blade in her hand, then again she moved in for the kill, her blade being met with empty air. As she stumbled slightly to regain her balance, an invisible arm wrapped around her neck, pulling her head back while another twisted her blade arms behind her til the mystery assassin felt the tip of her own blade biting into her spine.

Meagan then spoke to her, "Name yourself and your purpose, do that and I may let you live."

The woman struggled against Meagan's choke hold, until finally her resistance weakened.

"They call me Katrina of the Long Blade."

Meagan pulled harder on her, the tip of the blade digging deeper into her back, "Your purpose, why did you attack me?"

The woman struggled to breath until Meagan loosened her grip ever so slightly, just enough for Katrina to talk

"Two messages, one from Chris the Knife, that he hasn't forgotten." the women's voice suddenly tinged in anger, "The other from me, Jinzi is mine. I will kill any women who tries to steal him from me."

Meagan suddenly flashed on the image of the scar Jinzi showed her earlier, and her own voice got lower with anger, "Jinzi let you off too easy last time. I won't be so kind." with a sudden movement, she knocked Katrina unconscious, letting her body drop to the ground.

Checking to make sure she was still alive, She was about to take Katrina as a prisoner when a small explosion unleashed a cloud of gas that both blinded her and made it hard to breath. When she was finally able to see again, the woman's body was gone. Now visible, Meagan scanned the area, but could no longer find any trace of Katrina's Ki.

Taking to the air, she looked around and still could not find any trace of her. Meagan then turned to look in the direction of Capsule Corps.

"Lady Evangeline," she mentally called out to the Guardian, "Something happened, I'll be a little late getting back. I will tell you all about it when I do." She then flew back down to the Capsule Corps building, landing at the entrance she called inside fro Jinzi or anyone else there who was still awake.

[grampagen]

After some time, the youth rose to a seated position as he contemplated Ochazuke's words. It was fairly clear at the surface that kikojutsu as a whole was something that drastically went against all that his style stood for, but after that little exercise, the gap between them had grown to the size of a continent.

There is a difference between accepting your circumstances and resigning to your fate...

The words lingered in his mind and he slowly tore each of them apart, pondering over each interpretation he could conceive of their meaning. As he had imagined beforehand, this was going to take a while to fully understand.

"How do you fight instinct?" He asked, not speaking in general, but rather addressing Ochazuke's own methods in this matter, "How did you find the third choice?"

The question came directly and without sophistry or nuance. As much as he found it refreshing, Ochazuke found himself ill-equipped to answer it in words. Charco was ever mindful of the goal at the end of this course. Channeled through the claws and teeth of the Dino-Style, he imagined this hunger for knowledge was a means to seek out new prey. Much of that hunger had been trained or bled out of himself years ago as he considered his response.

"Instinct," he began, "is not something you fight. If ever I should face something I cannot fully comprehend, regardless of what it is, I must accept it. I allow it to pass over and through me. Then it is mine."

Bringing his hands up before him, hands facing forward, Ochazuke framed through his opening stance the door to the path before him. All he had left to impart to the boy was the situation as he understood it.

"Calmly observe and then draw from that feeling as you become aware of this. Face to face with your path, only you control yourself upon it. Others may dissuade you or meet you on it seeking your end. Master it, and through discipline you assert your will to move through them."

His face fell deathly serious as he breathed stiffly through the throat, exhaling a hiss stiffly across the palate. Every facet of his body tightened, muscles contracted on his torso as if braced to defend against an unseen enemy. As Ochazuke's ki manifest, it seemed to fold in on itself and double, over and over, his presence surging outward, consume the air in the room, a presence asserted and made undeniable though he expelled no visible aura.

"What forms the will over the body, asserts consciousness, begs for breath and courses blood through your veins, it is all the same. This resolve to live is the catalyst which stokes the fire of your soul. Master this, and you will be able to make it a power to exceed your limits."

Ochazuke brought his hands up before Charco. Folding his fingers into fists, he pressed them so tightly the joints in his fingers cracked and the hollow pop of his knuckles bounced off the white air of the room.

"Not a surplus of energy, but for a moment, everything."

The tension in his form stilled. He brought his hands down, and his body dripped with heat and sweat as he exhaled slowly, the spike in power fell as his ki righted itself, silent as before.

“Only when there is no other option, for once it is expelled, it cannot be recovered. That is the price you pay to delay death when it comes to collect.”

[Cyke]

Ochazuke called upon the Dragon's Endurance as he braced himself to step into the fire once more, letting the element rouse within him, colour his ki, before he threw his palms out, lashing the twin tongues of flame forward, sustaining the burn in a concentrated streak before they faded as abruptly as they came.

"Cheh."

Fire rose within and it burned away at his focus. Dabbing his forehead in annoyance, he shook his head as he tried to wrap his head around unfixing his pattern and steeling his focus.

"...agreed," he relented, "But let's not take too long. If I can, perhaps I'll assist you in the kitchen."

A humble dinner of rice, steamed bok choy, and simple proteins. Zaofan's palette normally would want something more complex and exploratory, but with all the time they've put into strenuous training, this was the best meal their starving, exhausted bodies could want. A little garlic can go a long way, after all, and now was the time to reign in their focus anyway. A more extravagant meal would be too distracting. However, at least lighting the stove proved an wonderfully mundane way to test out the Dragon's Breath.

Samson Balon Time Skip:

He nods.

“Very well, I will comm you both once I have deciphered the locations. I swear upon my honor that I will not investigate them without you both.”

Zaofan bows to Samson. "We can investigate once you have deemed us ready to do so, Master. It seems that we must be of both sound mind and body to continue. We will help you find out what's over the next hill, so to speak."

Ochazuke rolled his neck around his shoulders. Muttering something to himself, he raised his hands before him in the Crane's guard. Set fixed in the way ingrained to him, he turned from the waist and shift in the motions of a round block with his right hand. Taking a step forward, he fell into the Dragon's posture, winding a long path from the shoulder, hand poised to coil around, deflect an incoming strike, and weave past the defense. Yielding yet unyielding, soft in its firmament, not a clashing power, but a surge, like the fire within.

"It is a slow path, moving towards mastery. I suppose it would be the best for us all."

He wound down a step, breathing tersely as he mixed the fluidity of the Dragon's foundation into the firmament of his Sanchin stance, but mixed so unfamiliarly he'd found it difficult to breathe. Rising out of the sunken stance, he inhaled slowly and absently he'd adopted a high guard with elbows square.

It was not something he'd learned here today. He felt a coldness spread through his body on the sweat called from the fire.

"It would not do to lose the art so soon before it can be reborn."

Conducting the movements and actions that Balon instructed them, Zaofan tries his best to maintain his kata as calmly but as fluidly as possible in order to properly learn the style. However, as careful and deliberate as Ochazuke seems, Zaofan's mind begins to wander.

Every style has a direct philosophy. A singular vision for itself. A form of guidance not just for body, but for the spirit as well. What, then, are the beliefs of the Dragon? Is it passion as hot as fire? Heat as a force that sustains? Is it power that borders on the mythical? A dragon is, classically, large and immovable by choice. It is also graceful, like a ribbon in the wind. Its breath gives it life, but can bring others death. Its strength enables it the luxury to act last, its grace ensures it will strike first. It is, among other things, a creature of contradiction. And yet, for every legend of an evil or mischievous dragon, there's an equal and opposite legend of a protector dragon, appearing fearsome and deadly, but armed with the vigilant eyes of justice.

Perhaps, then, the internal struggle isn't good vs. evil. At least, Zaofan never really felt 'evil' with a capital E. Rather, perhaps the Dragon Style could help him learn his own contradictions, and better yet, how to utilize those contradictions to his advantage. Strong, but unfocused. Older, but inexperienced. A free spirit, trapped in his thoughts. A traveler, who would like to settle down one day. A brave man, too afraid to commit. Maybe this is one reason for his attraction to the Dragon Style -- the justice-minded fire burning within Samson Balon betrayed an otherwise mild-looking man, a man who was held captive but held out hope thanks to his perseverance and his love of his daughter. Dragons, despite being a whirwind of contradictions, attain their balance by knowing themselves and their truths. So then, after being deceived by false masters, what is Zaofan's truth? What does he know of himself? And what paths lie ahead that depend on his own inner strength?

Zaofan then snaps out of thought. He's lost breath and didn't realize it until his lungs cruelly suck in sweet, sweet oxygen. He finds his stance off balance, and sloppy. Despite the lack of proper form, his body is drenched in sweat. He doesn't even know how much time has passed. Still, pushing back against the sudden realization that his arms were heavy and his legs greatly fatigued, Zaofan consciously tries to restore his kata to a proper form.

"So, Ochazuke... the Jade Dragon's Claw -- if it's a container of knowledge, what do you think the odds are that it would contain the real reason for the style to take the form of a dragon? I wonder what the founder of the style knew about himself to create such an... intense... form. It's almost artistic in its own way."

[Yun Lao]

The question came directly and without sophistry or nuance. As much as he found it refreshing, Ochazuke found himself ill-equipped to answer it in words. Charco was ever mindful of the goal at the end of this course. Channeled through the claws and teeth of the Dino-Style, he imagined this hunger for knowledge was a means to seek out new prey. Much of that hunger had been trained or bled out of himself years ago as he considered his response.

"Instinct," he began, "is not something you fight. If ever I should face something I cannot fully comprehend, regardless of what it is, I must accept it. I allow it to pass over and through me. Then it is mine."

Bringing his hands up before him, hands facing forward, Ochazuke framed through his opening stance the door to the path before him. All he had left to impart to the boy was the situation as he understood it.

"Calmly observe and then draw from that feeling as you become aware of this. Face to face with your path, only you control yourself upon it. Others may dissuade you or meet you on it seeking your end. Master it, and through discipline you assert your will to move through them."

His face fell deathly serious as he breathed stiffly through the throat, exhaling a hiss stiffly across the palate. Every facet of his body tightened, muscles contracted on his torso as if braced to defend against an unseen enemy. As Ochazuke's ki manifest, it seemed to fold in on itself and double, over and over, his presence surging outward, consume the air in the room, a presence asserted and made undeniable though he expelled no visible aura.

"What forms the will over the body, asserts consciousness, begs for breath and courses blood through your veins, it is all the same. This resolve to live is the catalyst which stokes the fire of your soul. Master this, and you will be able to make it a power to exceed your limits."

Ochazuke brought his hands up before Charco. Folding his fingers into fists, he pressed them so tightly the joints in his fingers cracked and the hollow pop of his knuckles bounced off the white air of the room.

"Not a surplus of energy, but for a moment, everything."

The tension in his form stilled. He brought his hands down, and his body dripped with heat and sweat as he exhaled slowly, the spike in power fell as his ki righted itself, silent as before.

“Only when there is no other option, for once it is expelled, it cannot be recovered. That is the price you pay to delay death when it comes to collect.”

Charco was silent for some time after Ochazuke's explanation and demonstration. One could say they would imagine the gears grinding against each other in his head, as that one saying went. Then, the boy suddenly rose to feet, a small nod indicating that he had came to a conclusion.

"I was mistaken." He confessed, "I had previously thought this technique was the complete opposite of what the Dino School practiced. Now, I believe that is only true if you look at it from the surface."

Instinct is very important to him to those of his school. Trusting what has ensured their survival for countless generations,they had become vulnerable to that little death. If given the choice between fight or flight, they would default to fight like a wounded, cornered beast without question, yet also without sense.

"As you said, I must embrace my instincts, but I must not be a slave to them. I must overcome those natural impulses and see what path lies ahead of me in that moment and become the master of that path."

Vague, hazy memories of him striking Battersea came to mind.

"I will need to start all over with the basics if I am to succeed. I have let the words of others in my school guide me for too long that I have forgotten the ground beneath my feet."

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

Despite the call to return to that shattered moon, of a fallen order, Ilargi; Ishtar had found herself reticent to leave since that first night with Sarada. The girl's willingness to accept the Oni for who she was, and her desire to offer her body- and in the end bare her soul- enough of a force to keep the Oni from heeding what she knew she eventually must.

So it went then, that one day had turned into two.

I cannot leave Sarada, not now ...

And then two had become three.

We are training now ... I will tarry just a little while longer ...

Then it became four ... five ... six ...

---

And so it went that as each day broke, the golden-eyed Oni found within herself yet another reason to stay. Almost forcing herself out of bed- or Sarada's embrace- to will her tired body to bleed, and ache as she trained. Or to force herself to sit, so that she might study both the Grimiore left behind by Zurvan, and the Grimiore of the Coven of Grey Thorns. Or to even explore the world beneath the Lookout ... the world she had been conscripted to protect. And while she was not as content as she had been the day of her revival- that desire to leave, and travel, and return; to that now shattered remnant of a painful past an ever-gnawing presence- she at least found with Sarada, and the others, a measure of peace.

And along with that peace, the golden-eyed Oni who had acted largely on instinct; began to benefit from her stay.

Of the most benefit, was the training from Sarada.

True to form, every day since that first, the young Saiyan would appear almost out of nowhere to launch a barrage of punches, or Ki. At first it was not enough to maim, or kill ... yet over time, the golden-eyed Oni learned how to dodge, and as Sarada used more and more of her strength during these surprise attacks, Ishtar slowly began to develop a battle sense as she began to predict the course and flight of the thrown kicks, punches, and blasts. Which itself, over time, was slowly developed into the ability to react, and parry. Not as well as those who made a career of such things- or were born into it like Sarada herself- but enough so that the mistakes of battles previous would come less, and less. And in addition to this training, the "School of Git Gud", as Sarada herself described it ... the Saiyan of Ishtar's affection had taught her the use of her own style of fighting, the Crimson Fist; as well as a single ability:

The Scarlet Fever.

An ability that was so very similar to Ishtar's own, Aša Vahišta, in the end; that it was merely a matter of assimilating into what Ishtar already knew so that it could be realized in a slightly different way. The fires of her own golden energies, fine tuned to the point of being able to subtly increase her own movements.

And from Tasure, Ishtar had received the benefits of the elder's own training while deceased. Her wisdom, and skill refining what had been hammered into her by the younger, Sarada. During this time of training with Totoma's Mother, the golden-eyed Oni had also been given guidance on a means of slowly training her control in an area Ishtar herself had been afraid to touch. That of her Sij, her Hakai energy. In truth Tasure had not known that was what it was, but the Saiyan had sensed it within Ishtar from those first moments of there meeting; and had found it within herself to help. And the reason for this assistance, in Tasure's own words had been:

"Fastest way to get killed, is to not know what the **** you're doing with what you've got."

And while such vulgarity was not of a fondness for Ishtar herself, there was no denying the wisdom in such words. After all, the Oni had come very close to living that truth, after allowing herself to surrender control to the fires of Aeshma Xeshm a second time.

So it went however, that by the end of Ishtar's training under Sarada, and Tasure; the Oni found herself capable in a thing that had never once been studied by her with any meaning, or purpose.

The Art of Combat.

[grampagen]

Xeno? You think it would kill her to just say Nevadian....Assuming she even knows what one is.

"Well all have our vices, I suppose." Held replied with a forced smile of his own, concealing the barb of annoyance that pierced into his side at her words. He had expected every word from her mouth to drip with hatred like saliva, but the experience was still discomforting. "I suppose you humans might consider me the representation of your sin of greed, but I'm perhaps quite modest by my own peoples standards."

Perhaps? Who am I kidding....I don't think very many of us get tunnel vision like I do....It's the only reason I'm in the forsaken room with this woman...Good grief.

"Still, for the sake of clarity." Held replied, his smile fading somewhat has he grew tired of the artifice when dealing with such a cantankerous woman, "You don't solely think I went through all this trouble for money, do you?"

He eyed Kenshiko, his face a mixture of confusion, and mild befuddlement. Surely, Willia must have explained something about the Dragonballs to her?

"I won't say I'm beyond your assessment of me, but if you and Ochazuke were as close as he alluded, you can't think he was brought here because of Zeni, yeah?"

"There's little else I can think of here on this wonderful blue planet," she said, her words sharp with a hint of mocking. "So many problems on the surface and the Federation still wants to reach out and spread it to the galaxy, it's a sick joke."

The name of her disowned pupil did not go unheard. She fell silent for a moment, the low trill of the transport's instruments interrupted only by a deep sigh.

"It's a disappointment is what it is," she said, "can't even fight for what he believes, now he can barely speak to it. Too little, too late here, at the end."

Held was silent for a moment, the echo of metal on metal briefly piercing the silence between the two.

"Why would it?" He asked at last, placing a hand on the side of his hip, "I won't pretend I can't empathize with you on some level, but are we going to pretend that you raised all these funds baking cookies? That every rumor about you lot was just based on a misunderstanding?"

The Raiders certainly had motive for their actions, but that only went so far to absolve them of their sins, no doubt confusing vengeance and justice as a result of their pain.

He moved forward to the seat housing the treasure, carefully examining it.

"Your boss sunk an entire ship to get to Pantaloon, partly because I annoyed her. I didn't see anything in the paper about her donating to the victims."

So much...I should have brought a wheelbarrow.

"Or was this all going to charity? There's no honor among thieves."

"So we're on the same page here after all, and there are no saints even here in this little patch of heaven on top of the world," Kenshiko replied, "the way your men attacked, some fool might've figured it was retribution. Some comfort. turns out it's less a divine calling, at that."

She heard his dissertation.

"Honor among thieves? Here's another cliche: We reap what we sow. What's a few million out of the fat hand that controls billions? Just another inconvenient problem to be swept away and ignored. Doesn't feel pleasant to step on a nail, does it? But there'll be hell to pay so long as someone's watching."

She swept the sweat-slick fringe out of her eyes. "One more: To the victor go the spoils. Another little convenience of absolution. So long as you have your prize, by right of conquest, it's a clear conscience. You took your bones from us. We took it from some other fatcat like Pantaloon. They took it from some backwater they can exploit because they can't fight back."

Resting her weight on her shoulder upon the wall, she shift herself toward Held and faced him down.

"To change this world, the system that treads on others must be uprooted. Revolutions are an ugly craft, but the truth is something that lasts forever. Sacrifice is necessary for things to change, and no price is too high to pay for a dream."

She shook her head.

"Those were the Colonel's words. I believed in them once," Kenshiko said wistfully. The small smile roused on her lips fell as she fell her head back, her throat exposed to the shadows of the craft. "Do you think your plunder, your ill-gotten gains are absolved of the bloodshed just because we were on opposite sides of the battlefield? Render your justice from this while you count your fat stacks."

[grampagen]

A humble dinner of rice, steamed bok choy, and simple proteins. Zaofan's palette normally would want something more complex and exploratory, but with all the time they've put into strenuous training, this was the best meal their starving, exhausted bodies could want. A little garlic can go a long way, after all, and now was the time to reign in their focus anyway. A more extravagant meal would be too distracting. However, at least lighting the stove proved an wonderfully mundane way to test out the Dragon's Breath.

Zaofan bows to Samson. "We can investigate once you have deemed us ready to do so, Master. It seems that we must be of both sound mind and body to continue. We will help you find out what's over the next hill, so to speak."

Conducting the movements and actions that Balon instructed them, Zaofan tries his best to maintain his kata as calmly but as fluidly as possible in order to properly learn the style. However, as careful and deliberate as Ochazuke seems, Zaofan's mind begins to wander.

Every style has a direct philosophy. A singular vision for itself. A form of guidance not just for body, but for the spirit as well. What, then, are the beliefs of the Dragon? Is it passion as hot as fire? Heat as a force that sustains? Is it power that borders on the mythical? A dragon is, classically, large and immovable by choice. It is also graceful, like a ribbon in the wind. Its breath gives it life, but can bring others death. Its strength enables it the luxury to act last, its grace ensures it will strike first. It is, among other things, a creature of contradiction. And yet, for every legend of an evil or mischievous dragon, there's an equal and opposite legend of a protector dragon, appearing fearsome and deadly, but armed with the vigilant eyes of justice.

Perhaps, then, the internal struggle isn't good vs. evil. At least, Zaofan never really felt 'evil' with a capital E. Rather, perhaps the Dragon Style could help him learn his own contradictions, and better yet, how to utilize those contradictions to his advantage. Strong, but unfocused. Older, but inexperienced. A free spirit, trapped in his thoughts. A traveler, who would like to settle down one day. A brave man, too afraid to commit. Maybe this is one reason for his attraction to the Dragon Style -- the justice-minded fire burning within Samson Balon betrayed an otherwise mild-looking man, a man who was held captive but held out hope thanks to his perseverance and his love of his daughter. Dragons, despite being a whirwind of contradictions, attain their balance by knowing themselves and their truths. So then, after being deceived by false masters, what is Zaofan's truth? What does he know of himself? And what paths lie ahead that depend on his own inner strength?

Zaofan then snaps out of thought. He's lost breath and didn't realize it until his lungs cruelly suck in sweet, sweet oxygen. He finds his stance off balance, and sloppy. Despite the lack of proper form, his body is drenched in sweat. He doesn't even know how much time has passed. Still, pushing back against the sudden realization that his arms were heavy and his legs greatly fatigued, Zaofan consciously tries to restore his kata to a proper form.

"So, Ochazuke... the Jade Dragon's Claw -- if it's a container of knowledge, what do you think the odds are that it would contain the real reason for the style to take the form of a dragon? I wonder what the founder of the style knew about himself to create such an... intense... form. It's almost artistic in its own way."

The martial practice permeates the everyday, for in every facet of movement, day after day, is the opportunity for mastery. In the face of a crisis, a warrior finds their opportunity, from undoing the opponent to...lighting the stove. He took Zaofan's simple meal graciously, the craft of this humble bounty as expert as ever, in quantities generous and made quick. It was no accident, there seemed to be a zeal within him to move forward in this training.

Continuing in mastering the three foundation skills imparted to him, Ochazuke rooted himself in following through the Dragon's Endurance. Sinking in the low stance and drawing upward, slow hands began to grasp the means to part the mortal flame.

"Root your feet," he suggested to Zaofan, "spring from the earth...

He drew his arm inward, sunk low and threw two palms forward, the foundation to cast iron hands through the fire, "...and then glide forward, twist in the finish."

He exhaled softly, and closed the sequence as he took a break. "...I think. There is something still missing there in my movement."

"The history says the Sage Seiryuu was concerned with preservation, protecting that which was priceless, guarding those things which cannot be replaced," he replied, musing, "How ironic, his is the lost relic now."

[Sub-Zero MKA]

"Enough for now, I think ... and how was it ?"

For a very long time, Sarada just laid there in Ishtar's arms silently. She was covered in sweat -- both hers and Ishtar's -- and secretions -- both hers and Ishtar's -- and breathing heavily and shakily in an attempt to catch her breath and to give her mind time to process the cornucopia of stimuli it was just bombarded by. The intensity of the last several hours was comparable to the intensity she and Jack shared the day... well, two days prior.

That was where the similarities ended. Whereas Jack was rough and plowed her merciless -- though to be fair, she gave as good as she got -- Ishtar was gentle, yet scintillating in ways that Jack just couldn't achieve. One of the reasons she preferred mating with women -- outside of the obvious inability to mate with men without risking getting triggered -- was that most knew what it took to please a woman. They knew where to touch, rub, lick, kiss, and caress, all in the name of making their bedmate lose all feeling in their lower extremities and scream out as loudly as possible.

Ishtar showed Sarada things, pleased and pleasured her in ways that she didn't know was possible. She thought she was on to something when she discovered that female Saiyans could use their tails during mating, but she didn't know anything. With age came experience, and there wasn't anyone she knew that was older than Ishtar, save for Asha'rah, maybe. In the end, Sarada was left numb and listless, with only a soft tingling sensation in her toes that proved that her legs were still working. It was a good numb, a numbness that she desperately needed. It proved that her body had enjoyed to the full what they shared the last few hours.

More than the physical enjoyment, the double pleasurable emotions shared by the two of them left her brain on another world, leaving her body to react on instinct, to twitch, writhe, arch, and quiver on impulse. It was beyond mind-blowing, much more so than she imagined when she first learned of this bond. The intensity and ferocity with which she secreted her love nectar was without measure or comparison.

It really wasn't fair to Jack, Avoca, and anyone else she may have decided to bed. Nothing was going to compare to this.

When Ishtar asked how it was, she only had enough brain activity to uttered one word, "Wow."

[Sub-Zero MKA]

The Art of Combat.

Sarada would have been lying if she said she didn't care if Ishtar decided to leave to handle her own business on this Ilargi. She would have been lying through her teeth if she said she didn't want to her stay with her, or better, come with her to Vocado. It was a selfish feeling; Ishtar wasn't hers, and was her own person capable of making her own decisions. But, after that first night they spent together, and all the subsequent ones that came after, she found herself longing for her presence. Not just with mating, but in general.

Perhaps this was the love that Ishtar felt for Sekhmet. She didn't know, but if it was, she didn't mind feeling it for her or perhaps someone else.

Two became three when Sarada and Ishtar began their joint training with Tasure, then three became five when Totoma and Karine joined them. In truth, Sarada didn't have a great deal to learn from the once-dead Saiyan; mainly how to hone the techniques she already had available to her to make them more potent, and how to advance the ideas she had in her head into reality. The training exercises were more for Ishtar's benefit.

Sarada gifted her with basic knowledge of the Crimson Fist style, and with it, Scarlet Fever. Focusing one's ki and sheathing one's points of attack with that ki made for a very simple, but very potent combat technique. Combined with newfound ability to dodge and parry effectively, and Ishtar was on the path to becoming a dangerous hand-to-hand fighter. Which was good, because given the sensitivity of their bond, she didn't want to feel a sudden, sharp pang of pain because the Oni got punched in the face or stabbed in the gut by an attack that an infant Saiyan could avoid.

Oh, no, that just wouldn't do at all.

In exchange, Sarada was well on her way to learning the basics of Spənta Armaiti -- the ability to raise her defense -- Xšaθra Vairya -- which she planned to use to bind those katchin knives to her person, and the promise of learning vitalmancy so she could replenish her strength through absorbing plant-life. While Sarada wanted to learn her own techniques, and had several in the works, there was nothing wrong with taking a little from someone else and putting her own spin on it. Speaking of, that reminded her of Nunlil.

Surely, she was strong enough by this point for the red Oni to consider mating with her. And sense Ishtar would feel the pleasure she would derive from what was sure to be as intense and rough as her times with her and Jack, it was about as close to a threesome as they could get. Just thinking about running her tongue between the rock hard abs was getting her excited and wet.

"So, where's that cousin of yours?" she inquired casually, but the hidden feelings of arousal and lust for Nunlil were transmitted like a neon sign. "I need to ask her that question I put on hold."