Kakkhan: Immortal Saiyan Z-fighter

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball/Z/GT, but, except for the Human race, I do own everything else. Ha!

Warnings: Character Death, One Curse Word

Official Last Chapter Dedication: To lpgohanfanatic, who has been with the story since the first chapter of Kakkhan I (under the name DBZ Chick1). Thank you for reviewing every chapter almost every single time, even if it was just a single line. (Glomps) (No, I'm not letting you forget that one time you forgot to review. How could you? (Sobs))

:-:-:-:

POK:ISZF—

...No matter. He was nearing the light now. Soon he would see what the afterlife was like. Soon.

He fell into the light and closed his eyes.

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Chapter Twenty-four: The Beginning of One's Destiny

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"You bastards just killed my brother." The statement was made coldly, a tone that reflected the way he felt inside. He felt totally numb, like nothing existed inside. But something did exist, something did boil within him: darkness.

Well? Have we chosen the right one? He drew his eyes from the broken body of his brother so many leagues below and fixed them upon the mocking figure of Gilaamu. Rage stained his vision and seized his soul; for the second time that month he reached for his darkness and found it willing to cooperate.

It seems we have, Gilaamu concluded smugly, taking his silence for acquiescence. The traitor Eiranos is dead, friends, and only this pitiful weakling stands in our way of triumph!

He did not hear the roar of the Laniins and the fosterlings behind Gilaamu; he only heard the bellow of his darkness as he surrendered his body, his mind, and his soul to his darkness, his need for revenge.

Gilaamu turned back quickly to the fighter in front of him as rage emanated from him in oceanic waves. His eyes widened with shock as a venomous growl rolled from the Saiyan standing opposite him; he scrambled backwards as the snarl escalated into a bellow. The darkness of space flowed out of every pore visible on the Saiyan's body, covering him entirely in a globe of outer space without stars. Gilaamu glanced at the Saiyan's eyes and convulsively shrank from the expression.

This Saiyan was no longer anything resembling a conscious being, but an uncontrollable beast through and through. There was no saving this one, not that Gilaamu would have spared the effort.

His jaw tightened as the last of the darkness spewed forth to form a perfect all-encompassing globe. Time to die, he told the beast silently. Outwardly, he commanded, Kill him, my warriors!

A rush of bodies answered him, lunging forward to assault the sphere of outer space hovering in front of him. Another snarl met the charge, and the battle began.

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'Menrui!' he screamed within the flaring core of light encapsulating him. 'DON'T!' He leapt for the boundaries of the orb, but like all the other times he tried to escape his prison, he was brought down by stinging sunspots inside of the orb. 'Menrui!' he shouted again, still struggling to burst free to help his brother.

He watched angrily as the first wave of Laniin soldiers swarmed onto him; almost instantly the Menrui-darkness ruthlessly dispatched them, swinging around to meet the second wave, this one made of fosterlings.

'GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU SCUM!' he bellowed at the fosterlings. He shrieked as he spotted Balannon amongst them—obviously he had been brainwashed by the Emotion-Manipulator as easily as any of the other Giendonese warriors. Instinctively he raised an arm—

'MENRUI!' he roared as a third wave of Laniin soldiers scrambled to help the second wave. A fourth wave replaced the second wave, and the fifth wave arrived to commence a three-prong attack with the third and fourth waves on the Menrui-darkness.

'MENRUI! STOP DRAWING ON THE DARKNESS SO MUCH! YOU'LL DRAIN YOURSELF! NO!' he shouted as the Menrui-darkness spat all three forces away at once, only to meet with a sixth wave.

The Menrui-darkness discharged energy once more, screamed as it attacked the forces, and charged once more. He didn't seem to know that his dark aura was flickering madly, and that what had once concealed his figure had become translucent. It was translucent enough, apparently, for a Laniin warrior to be lucky enough to spear him.

'MENRUI!' he howled. He made a last attempt to scramble out of the orb—

Only to be struck by the largest sunflare yet. This time the energy lunged into him with such force that he almost fell with it and the renewed pain from earlier. A hatefully familiar roar came to him from far behind and yet right next to him.

EVEN IMMORTALS MUST BEWARE OF DISCHARGING TOO MUCH ENERGY AT ONCE! RIGHT, EIRANOS?

He screamed then. He was not sure whether he screamed out loud or only internally, but he didn't care. He needed to get all of this energy away from him before it burned him.

EIRANOS! I TOLD YOU ONCE! I'LL TELL YOU AGAIN! EIRANOS, I LOVE YOU!

Now he knew he screamed aloud. The light whipped throughout him, singeing every nerve in his body, disproving his earlier theory of paralysis, until it reached his brain. There it flooded into the loops and lobes of the second-most important organ in his body and roiled. It roiled until it was comfortable, until all he knew was the light, and that it did indeed love him.

...In the true sense of the phrase, he felt detached now, afloat in a field of gentle white. All around him were dark shapes, above, below, in front of him, behind him, to his left, to his right, strewn in small incalculable amounts everywhere. His senses washed over them, told him that most of them meant no harm to him. Most of the shapes appreciated his awakening, for it was more energy for a slowly dying Earth.

Others, nevertheless, radiated varying degrees of malice. The most common level of malice was low and mixed with a subtle confusion. This belonged to the majority of the fighters standing impassively in his way. The next grade of malevolence was considerably higher than the majority's: these were of the higher ranks, the spotty few that were threatened by Kakkhan's continued popularity. Only one hated him for far more personal reasons.

The highest classification of bitterness revolved around the Headmaster of the Laniins himself, the illustrious Gilaamu. Politically, personally, and now publicly, Gilaamu Yuinsen had built his hatred of the born-Earthling warrior whom had forever undermined the respect due him in his position.

It was part of the ultimate irony that Kakkhan was the one who had put Gilaamu into the office of Headmaster. It had been a promising beginning, but it had quickly derailed after that point as Kakkhan's popularity competed with Gilaamu's victory over Riddloc the Iogoroth. Thus, Gilaamu's political hatred was spawned.

The assassin plot had stemmed from the political hatred; it ended in the birth of the personal hatred as Philaren, the best and the brightest of the fosterlings, had been returned to him only as a frail husk. Gilaamu's sense of danger peaked at this point and he began looking for the opportunity to strike the light's former Kakkhan self down. Such an opportunity had arrived in the Majin Buu uprising, as Kakkhan's feelings of disorientation and fear of Menrui's dark core had soared thunderously to the surface.

Now, Gilaamu's private hatred exposed itself. It was of little risk to do so, for the Laniins were so contained within the web of the Emotion-Manipulator, that unfavorable machine, that they could hardly understand the full consequences of such an exhibition. They only comprehended that their appearance here, on this reclusive self-sustaining plantball of a planet, had been organized for the good of all of Giendon.

Gilaamu began to speak; the words were only a horrendous explosion, a rumbling distortion of comfort in the otherwise serene plateau. The Kakkhan/light hybrid raised his-its-their hand-hoof-paw and calmly opened the fingers-hooves-claws. The plateau blurped abruptly, scrunching together for a split-second—then it righted itself as suddenly, serene and gentle as ever before.

And energy bolted from his-its-their hand-hoof-paw.

Screams, a wordless sound, reached him-it-them. They raged past him and stained the plateau, which writhed agonizingly, serenely in its endless efforts to deny them. He-it-they lowered his-its-their hand-hoof-paw and saw the dissolution of the largest menace of them all: the Emotion-Manipulator.

The Emotion-Manipulator screeched as it expired, its dark shape warping, hatefully shooting spikes in a short radius. The screams were of the confused Laniins as their emotions whorled within them chaotically, proportionally to the death of the machine. Another scream joined the majority, high with hatred as once again he-it-they foiled his grand scheme.

The form of Headmaster Gilaamu rocketed toward them, safely ensconced within its sub-ship and protected from the contaminated air of this plantball. He-it-they turned his-its-their head calmly and stared at the Laniin. The sub-ship halted and Gilaamu's oily voice issued forth from the metal contraption that protected him so.

"I, Gilaamu, Headmaster of the Board of Races of Giendon, do renounce you formally on this day of G178 OT 56 and take from you the name you chose upon your entrance into Giendon!" he spat in accented Universal, making his curse that much more potent.

"You are no longer Eiranos Jandelen, but shall now return to the given name Son Gohan, son of Son Goku and Son Chichi, born of this plantball you call Chikyuu-sei! Accept my renunciation and die, you Earthling piece of nothing!"

Again, the bolt shot into his awareness from out of nowhere—the Emotion-Manipulator's last attempt to obey its master's command. It was a blundering form of darkness that possessed no grace whatsoever, unlike the previous spikes it had emitted before.

He-it-they, mindful that other dark shapes, these radiating very high levels of ki, were behind him, did not dodge the bolt. Instead, the plateau blurped once more—he-it-they held the bolt in his-its-their hands-hooves-paws—and the blunder of an energy creation careened back to its master.

Waving his-its-their hands-hooves-paws in a languid pattern, he-it-they watched the plateau warp multiple times, saw hundreds of energies streak from him-it-them, felt thousands of dark confused shapes fall. He-it-they sent energies behind him-it-them in a circular wave to form a shield for those high-kis in order that they not feel too much the collapse of the Giendonese bodies upon them.

When he-it-they ceased shooting energies, when the plateau was still once more, only the movement of fire greeted him-it-them. The white outline of this fire fed happily on the dark ships that had once held the masses of the misguided Giendonese standing opposite him-it-them. A croak—jarring in its malevolence—turned his-its-their eyes from the fire to the only ki still floating.

Another energy, another blurp in the plain, and the ki died, joining its comrades on the ground far below. Following the trajectory of the being, he-it-they could see the shape the bodies of the Giendonese almost made: a circle. He-it-they decided he-it-they liked the circle as a shape, since it remind him-it-them so much of his-its-their own spherical core.

Reminded of this, he-it-they suddenly became only Kakkhan, the light core withdrawing hastily. It lingered only long enough to growl I LOVE YOU... and then it was gone. He was left to himself for the first time in a long time.

He hated it. The darkness of his mind reminded him much of the Menrui-darkness and thoughts of him led to—

He shook himself. 'No, don't think of that,' he told himself, his voice echoing dully in his mind. Paying no heed to the raspy quality of those echoes, he turned and made the long trudge back to his consciousness.

By the time he reopened his eyes again, he had almost landed on the ground. He felt his feet touch base and looked down to see they nearly touched the body of his twin brother Tairyoku Menrui. Something fragile within him shattered; he grew cold as he allowed his eyes to travel from the blood-covered face (blood which had dried already) down to his stomach, which held nothing but a monstrous spear.

Slowly bending down, Kakkhan grasped the spear and attempted to pull it out. He had to yank it several times, causing the body to twitch and jerk distressingly, but finally, the spear removed itself from the belly of his brother.

Kakkhan paid no attention to the terrible smell spawned by his efforts, only focusing on how still Menrui was, how silent. Menrui was never this still, this silent, not even when he was sleeping. He looked like he was sleeping now, even perhaps having a nightmare, for the expression on his face was far from peaceful. Perhaps some of the Menrui-darkness—

No, he told himself. No. A flash caught his eye; he bent down further to see what originated it. It was the immortality chain he'd given to Menrui so long ago. He stared at it, trying to think something; it emerged slowly from the thick layer of molasses encircling his soul.

...EVEN IMMORTALS MUST BEWARE OF DISCHARGING TOO MUCH ENERGY AT ONCE...

What then was the point of living? he inquired of the memory. What was the point of being immortal when there was a chance for them to die too?

He received no answer. In the absence of an answer, he reached out a hand to the pendant, flinching slightly when his fingers met skin. Menrui was so cold—wasn't there a blanket around or something he could cover him with? He looked around, but saw only the torn garments already covering other bodies. With a sigh, he apologized to Menrui for not being prepared.

His fingers found the chain of the pendant and tugged. The chain resisted the force, so he rotated it around to find the clasp. Kakkhan shivered again at how cold Menrui's skin was—it seemed to radiate off of him to wrap about Kakkhan's hands.

I know, he said to the coldness. I know I'm looting the dead. But I—I need something to remember my brother by. I need to know why an immortality chain couldn't protect him. I need to be reminded of my own failure.

The clasp seemed to hate him also, seemed to be holding itself together desperately. He continued to work at it and work at it, even while the high kis gathered behind him and emanated waves of hesitancy. Finally the clasp came apart and he held the pendant in his hands.

"What?" he croaked, hating them for their intrusion onto his privacy. "What do you want?" He tucked the pendant away, not trusting that the pendant would not kill him if he put it on.

"T-that alien. At the end." One of the voices behind him, high, male, hopeful, cleared its throat. "When he renounced you. He said your given name...are you really Gohan? Our son? Have you really been Gohan and with us for all these years and didn't tell us?"

"No." Kakkhan slowly straightened his legs. "I had almost forgotten my given name. I was not Gohan then, but instead the name which is now taken from me. I ceased to be Gohan when they renamed me and made me fully Saiyan."

"But why didn't you tell us?" the voice persisted.

He whirled upon the male then. "Because if I had, I would never have been free ever again!" he snarled in Goku's face. "I had never once been free in my life up until then, not even when I was two! I paid for my independence—the price was my family! I lost my mentors and my friends on Giendon when I defected! Don't you get it? I'm nothing now—not Gohan, not Eiranos, nothing!

"Gilaamu may have given me back my given name, but it's only superficial now! It's so superficial it makes me sick! In fact, you make me sick! Every one of you makes me sick! I hate you! I hate you all! I cast away my given name here and now in front of all of you! I told you that Son Gohan, spawn of Son Goku and Son Chichi of Chikyuu-sei ceased to exist with my kidnapping—now he doesn't exist even by name!

"And while I'm at it," he shouted at the bewildered expressions of the Z-senshi, "I renounce my right to residence in my home dimension! I refuse to live here with all of you with all those sick expressions on your faces as if the whole sick world has ended! It hasn't! Life is going on like it always does—and so will you, without me!"

He gyrated explosively on his heel, bent quickly to scoop up the body of his dead brother—dead, dead, dead, dead as a doorknob, dead as dust, dead as dead, dead, dead, dead—and blasted away into the skies. Before any of the pathetic humans below him could move to chase him, he jumped to the one destination in his mind, where they'd never find him—the Daemon Dimension.

:-:-:-:

'So it begins, Legendary Lord,' the euphonic female voice of the Lady sighed. 'I have tried to find as many as I could to help you, but it seems it will still take a while for you to return. That is as it must be. I know...I know it is hard, it is cruel of me to say this, but you will become better. You said it yourself. Life goes on.'

Another sigh. 'My last choice seems so appropriate now. The life given to her is filled with as much pain as you feel now.'

A bitter laugh. 'I do not like being cruel, yet my brother Destiny forces me to do so. If it were not for His ironclad rulings, I would dare to defy Him so much more often.'

The voice said no more for a short moment. 'I am filled with sorrow, my Immortal. You must needs be angry at me. First Lottonomori, then your brother...two essential pieces of your soul I have taken from you to make you fulfill your potential and meet your destiny. It makes me hark to that ancient debate held at the Forum of whether potential should be fulfilled over emotional security...'

At this sentence, Yoki the Grim Reaper turned away from the portal. He had been about to go through it to ask of the Lady what precisely She was thinking with regards to the Legendary Lord. He had aborted his action upon overhearing the Lady mutter to Herself (no doubt an indirect explanation to his query, if he knew the Lady at all). Stalking away quickly, he joined his fellow Horsemen not far away from the abandoned portal.

'Destiny's the one to blame,' he told them curtly. Flint groaned angrily; Wen merely nodded his head; Penny huffed and thrust her hands on her hips.

'I should have known He would do something like this,' the Pestilence Horsewoman snapped. 'It's only too bad that the Demon Gods declared Him the ultimate authority over the lives of Demon Dimension residents and/or "permanent guests",' she continued, shaping her black-and-purple fingernails into quotation marks. Such an Earthling gesture was not uncommon for her since she met the Legendary Lord and the now-dead Prince of Puzzles. 'Otherwise I'd plague him for making the Legend twice soul-shattered.' She cackled maniacally at her joke. Flint rolled his eyes and began walking away. Wen called his Morph over to him; Yoki stared off into space with steely eyes. Penelope shook out her hair smugly before slipping a hand somehow into the pockets of her leather pants (also known commonly as her second skin).

When Flint stepped outside of the Basilica Vitae, he was immediately accosted by InuYasha. 'What's happened?' the akuma spat. 'I'm getting some (censored) sensations that—'

'Calm down, Inu.' Famine sighed. It would be a long day for him, the first of many. The Legendary Lord was due to arrive any moment; no doubt he'd go straight to the Tower. Meanwhile, everyone else was left to recover from the shock from the death of the Prince of Puzzles, and the select few who knew what little they knew of the real situation—they were naturally tasked with explaining and calming everyone down.

It would start with this daemon, this companion of the former Guardian of the Legend. He would task this akuma with the same duty he had now. The entire Dimension would soon know the truth—and the entire Dimension would look out for one of its own.

The Legendary Lord had renounced his right to live in his home dimension—where he would live now was uncertain, but very likely it would be here. If so, if the Legend would allow them, they would help. They would help even if he didn't want them to help. That was the way they were, the way they would always be.

He began to tell InuYasha what he knew.

:-:-:-:

FINITE

KAKKHAN: IMMORTAL SAIYAN Z-FIGHTER

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A/n: After two years, Kakkhan II is finally finished. Mein Gott. So much effort, so much suffering, so much inspiration, and here it is. Complete. Is there any reason for me to be crying right now? (Breaks down sobbing)

Allati: (Cries too)

Thank you to everyone, and I mean everyone, who reviewed:

Lov3the3vil, lpgohanfanatic, cooldude39, Keltic Cat, wizardmon92, Shinigami, Hiaburi, Exiled Rain & ShadowObscurity, Lucy Wood, dfd, THe new Kitty on the Block, Here kitty, kitty, kitty, saiyan child, supersas, supersaiyaman, Fairy of Speed, Salazarfalcon, Gohan's One, saiyaman, Sakurako Minase, kate

Now just don't kill me.

Whew... I hope you all are looking forward to less of an action-charged and more of an emotionally-charged story in Kakkhan: Saiyan Dimension Keeper. I'm likely to be as slow in writing that one as I have been with Z-fighter (though hopefully not as slow as with Giendonese in updating). It's also likely to be much shorter than Kakkhan I and II. I don't think that the story lines I have in mind are really able to be stretched out to 24 chapters unless one wants five pages in Word for every chapter, which will NEVER happen. Believe me. So I'm going back on that made-long-ago promise to have all my stories have roughly around twenty-four chapters. I'm so sad...

Allati: I think it's time to end this, SP.

Yes, I do think you're right, dear muse. Farewell, everyone, and good luck with your own stories.

TheShadowPanther and Allati, from AASN

AASN; Writing is what we do for you at AASN. Enjoy.

Updated 06.15.07