Post by Tomoka on Aug 28, 2017 17:09:30 GMT
He wasn't sure if any of them would take his advice, but to be perfectly honest, at the moment, the only one he was truly focusing on was himself. It had felt like an eternity since he was sent down here, and it felt even worse that he had barely trained at all. IF time was in sync with the real world, than the war had progressed, that was for sure, and it had most likely progressed far to much without him. He was wasting TIME, he was wasting EFFORT, and now, that would change. He clenched his fists, breathing in heavily, before he would begun thrusting both of them forward, into the air, imaginary enemies being pummeled before him. Like he had done so many, many times...
"Tomoka!" He heard a voice shout, the young Saiyan sitting up. He had dozed off. It was his turn to spar. He looked up, directing the voice to one of his, and the rest of his class' instructors. He would stand, wearing basic gear on him, as he walked into the ring, staring at his opponent across from him. His 12 year old self had trouble waiting, so the moment they were told to begin, Tomoka launched himself at the boy before him, letting out a yell as his fist clashed with guarded arms. He narrowly avoided the few punches that came flying back, but it was difficult, focusing on attacks. Only attacks.
The fight would go on and on, as did all his fights. He had only landed a few hits, and his opponent only landed a few hits. The same, the same, the same...
Tomoka felt the blast hit him like a space ship, screaming as he was thrown back, bones cracking as flesh hissed, thrown onto the namekian soil. How... how was this possible? All his life, he had trained. All his life, he had prepared to fight, prepared to use the universe as his play ground. It was a Saiyan's BIRTHRIGHT! And here he was, being defeated by some random foot soldier to a random Namekian caste. What the HELL Was happening? He couldn't move anymore. He couldn't fight. He could only watch as his enemies would approach, him coughing out blood. Lots of it.
He would suddenly remember his last hope, his hand slipping under the last bits of his armor, before pulling out his trump card: the remote. He would press the button, and slowly, his pod would hover from the ground. Yes, here it was. His saving grace. But, before his eyes... the same thing happened. Over, and over, and over again.
The hand had shot through his chest, him unable to do anything. He had gasped, suddenly, blood trickling down as he clutched at the hole, the hand of his enemy gouging through him. And before he could even do anything, what he knew would happen, happened: he was thrown through the window, and he felt his bones cracked as he hit the ground bellow him. He remembered this, oh yes. Another one of his failures. And there was no way to change it. It would always end this way, with him being thrown, falling, falling, until he hit the ground, and with the last bit of his strength, crawled through the castle doors, where he was picked up by medics, and healed.
The same...
Tomoka's grip tightened around the woman's neck, the air in his and her lungs slowly being sucked out into the vacuum of space, both of them being bathed in solar radiation. It was happening again, yes, it was happening again. This same scenario... he couldn't change it. He couldn't change that the majin would bite off his leg. He couldn't change that he had lost, dying in the vacuum of space, not knowing that his enemy may or may not die. But...
This time, as Tomoka uttered his final words as a living being, something... different happened. He would remove a hand from the woman's neck, and bring it into the shape of a small finger gun, placing it against her temple, before he whispered, no sound coming from his mouth. He, the majin at his leg, would watch as a bolt of energy shot through her temple, her eyes widening as her small grip on life slipped from her fingers. Tomoka would than notice a vial of liquid in her hand, reaching out for it, before he crush it in his hand, swallowing the liquid and bits of shattered glass. All of a sudden, his strength, the air in his lungs, it all felt as if it had come flooding back, and he would look down at the majin, his leg gone, absorbed into her being, and he would pull his hand back, a red ki blast forming in his hand, before he threw it down at her, his body thrown back towards the ship, as tiny bits of were sprayed over the cosmic canvas.
As he entered the ship, he would quickly grab a reserve oxygen tank, bringing it to his lips as he breathed air once more, before he would type coordinates into the ship as fast as he could. A single word. A single wish. "Home."
Tomoka suddenly fell to the ground, his training coming to an sudden end as he clutched at the sides of his head, letting out an animalistic scream as he practically tore the skin from his face, the rainbow colored threads he was composed of coming undone, the scream continuing. No matter what he did down here, he could only dream of what was supposed to happen. How things would've played out, how they should've played out. He stopped, after several minutes of unintelligible babble, as he slowly rose. In his madness, the forest around him had been reduced to ash, and he looked around him. He'd get back. He'd get back, and turn all the wrongs he had suffered to rights. Or the same thing would happen... over and over and over...
exiting thread. PL With AL bonus.
"Tomoka!" He heard a voice shout, the young Saiyan sitting up. He had dozed off. It was his turn to spar. He looked up, directing the voice to one of his, and the rest of his class' instructors. He would stand, wearing basic gear on him, as he walked into the ring, staring at his opponent across from him. His 12 year old self had trouble waiting, so the moment they were told to begin, Tomoka launched himself at the boy before him, letting out a yell as his fist clashed with guarded arms. He narrowly avoided the few punches that came flying back, but it was difficult, focusing on attacks. Only attacks.
The fight would go on and on, as did all his fights. He had only landed a few hits, and his opponent only landed a few hits. The same, the same, the same...
Tomoka felt the blast hit him like a space ship, screaming as he was thrown back, bones cracking as flesh hissed, thrown onto the namekian soil. How... how was this possible? All his life, he had trained. All his life, he had prepared to fight, prepared to use the universe as his play ground. It was a Saiyan's BIRTHRIGHT! And here he was, being defeated by some random foot soldier to a random Namekian caste. What the HELL Was happening? He couldn't move anymore. He couldn't fight. He could only watch as his enemies would approach, him coughing out blood. Lots of it.
He would suddenly remember his last hope, his hand slipping under the last bits of his armor, before pulling out his trump card: the remote. He would press the button, and slowly, his pod would hover from the ground. Yes, here it was. His saving grace. But, before his eyes... the same thing happened. Over, and over, and over again.
The hand had shot through his chest, him unable to do anything. He had gasped, suddenly, blood trickling down as he clutched at the hole, the hand of his enemy gouging through him. And before he could even do anything, what he knew would happen, happened: he was thrown through the window, and he felt his bones cracked as he hit the ground bellow him. He remembered this, oh yes. Another one of his failures. And there was no way to change it. It would always end this way, with him being thrown, falling, falling, until he hit the ground, and with the last bit of his strength, crawled through the castle doors, where he was picked up by medics, and healed.
The same...
Tomoka's grip tightened around the woman's neck, the air in his and her lungs slowly being sucked out into the vacuum of space, both of them being bathed in solar radiation. It was happening again, yes, it was happening again. This same scenario... he couldn't change it. He couldn't change that the majin would bite off his leg. He couldn't change that he had lost, dying in the vacuum of space, not knowing that his enemy may or may not die. But...
This time, as Tomoka uttered his final words as a living being, something... different happened. He would remove a hand from the woman's neck, and bring it into the shape of a small finger gun, placing it against her temple, before he whispered, no sound coming from his mouth. He, the majin at his leg, would watch as a bolt of energy shot through her temple, her eyes widening as her small grip on life slipped from her fingers. Tomoka would than notice a vial of liquid in her hand, reaching out for it, before he crush it in his hand, swallowing the liquid and bits of shattered glass. All of a sudden, his strength, the air in his lungs, it all felt as if it had come flooding back, and he would look down at the majin, his leg gone, absorbed into her being, and he would pull his hand back, a red ki blast forming in his hand, before he threw it down at her, his body thrown back towards the ship, as tiny bits of were sprayed over the cosmic canvas.
As he entered the ship, he would quickly grab a reserve oxygen tank, bringing it to his lips as he breathed air once more, before he would type coordinates into the ship as fast as he could. A single word. A single wish. "Home."
Tomoka suddenly fell to the ground, his training coming to an sudden end as he clutched at the sides of his head, letting out an animalistic scream as he practically tore the skin from his face, the rainbow colored threads he was composed of coming undone, the scream continuing. No matter what he did down here, he could only dream of what was supposed to happen. How things would've played out, how they should've played out. He stopped, after several minutes of unintelligible babble, as he slowly rose. In his madness, the forest around him had been reduced to ash, and he looked around him. He'd get back. He'd get back, and turn all the wrongs he had suffered to rights. Or the same thing would happen... over and over and over...
exiting thread. PL With AL bonus.