The moon is bright. It's light cascades to the Earth as if trying to show
compassion. Compassion for a grave injustice. What injustice? The Earth has
been plagued by humanity, derived of its beauty, of it's essence. However,
the moon has remained the same over these years, these thousands of years.
Still shining, still beautiful, unlike the Earth. Stars scattered across
the sky, tattered into the blackness like holes in an old blanket, yet
somehow still beautiful. His wandering eyes came upon the Virgo
constellation, and his heart stopped. The core star was shimmering
brightly, more densely than the others, and he knew, he knew she was
thinking about him. He couldn't die, not hear, not under those stars, not
under this moonlight. He couldn't die, because she was thinking about him.
The moon gave him power. It's luminous glow filled him with energy, gave
him strength; strength he needed to go on, to move on, the strength he
needed...to be who he was. But there was another power. This power was
greater, stronger, and it filled him with happiness, it made him joyous,
but on occasion it could decimate his soul. The power was love, a power
fiercely stronger then any other, and though it could cause the worst pain
imaginable, it could transform fearsome beasts into gentle men. As gentle
as a man could be. The moonlight filtered in through his eyes, flowing
through his body like his blood, filling him with that energy, filling him
with her hope, her love for him.
The moon was there. It would not dissipate, it would not fade, it would not
stop glowing. The moon watched over him like a mother over a young child,
it was his protector, it was his adoptive parental. The moon loved him, and
in turn, he loved the moon, as much as one could love a being incapable of
rational thought, or any thought at all. As long as the moon was there, he
would live, he would persevere. And as long as she was there, as long as
she loved him, he would live. It was that purpose that would not allow his
death; it was purpose that allowed him to live. Life must have purpose, or
else it is irrelevant, but when one is loved, when one is needed, purpose
He arose. Fearless as his opponent may have been, he was thirty times the
man he could ever be, maybe even fifty. Bravery, fearlessness, pride,
honor, nothing but words when you are in a battle, nothing but words when
you speak of taking lives and dealing death. Who can deal death? Is death
not something you choose to accept? You die as you age, and you accept it,
you accept that the span of your existence has come to an end and you are
no longer required for sustainment in this world. But, what if it was taken
without purpose? Death dealt, without purpose?
He would not let that happen. Purpose was needed, purpose was essential, he
would not die without a purpose, without a relevant cause. She was counting
on him. She needed him, and he needed her. His power grew, his body took
shape, it shifter, and his wounds were sealed, as his opponent's fate. The
cruel look in his eyes spoke of death, not of love and life, but of a
victory he would soon grasp. His eyes filled with a burning rage. This man
tried to take his life, which in turn would cause her to die as well, which
was just as good as taking a knife to her heart. He was finished.
The amberic ground of ashes and charred bits of terra firma seemed to go on
infinitely, as he looked around himself, arising from his dusty grave.
Trees no longer bore leaves, but charred spokes of branches. The world
seemed to spin around him for miles, but he was not even sure if his head
turned as he looked about. And if it wasn't for the pasty-white complexion
of the man he faced, his mind would of suggested that he was locked within
a duplex of infinities in this dusty Hell. He was ready to leave; he was
ready to finish this fight, once and for all. Purpose would be defined.
The thoughts of his love raced through his mind, she gave him power, she
gave him hope; she gave him the confidence he needed to go on fighting. And
so he did. Wind swept around his body in a vortex of infinite smoldered
dirt and ashes, spiraling across the air like the chasm of a volcano.
Pressure built up within the ground, energy surged around the innards of
his body, and his Dan Tien began to glow magnificently. Each Chakra lit up
accordingly, until he appeared to be nothing, nothing but a form of pure
energy. Energy that would define purpose.
In a blast of speed and light, a flash went off like a Super Nova. The
energy erupted from his body, Chi, Ki, whatever you wish to call it,
exploded outwards. A shockwave tore across the ground like a level eight
earthquake tremor, shaking the Earth to its core, shaking the white-boy to
his knees. A growl passed his lips, his fists clenched, nearly drawing
blood as his nails dug deep into his palms. A crimson flame of rebellion
surrounded his body now, shining like that ever-so-bright star of Virgo. It
was the purpose, the purpose that drove him, drove him to push his limits.
His hair was no long golden, it was no longer spiked, nor his eyes blue.
His body was no longer increased of muscle-mass. But his energy signal did
not change. The power, the energy of her love, it drove him to become
better, to become stronger then ever before, to become better than his
predecessors, to become a true Super Saiyan. His opponent trembled at the
sight, the sight of a being who appeared human, but on the inside, on the
inside shone a light, a golden reverence that spoke and said, "Within this
being, lies the power of a true Saiyan Warrior." It was over.
The power of her love drove him. It drove him to bound from his position.
To take off like a bolt of lightning, like the discharge from a handgun,
like a meteor flowing into the Earth, like someone who would risk it all,
to protect one life. Like a Super Hero. A glowing fist of ember red, and
her words flowed through his mind yet again, shining with all the radiance
she had, "I love you...I have always loved you..." And it was that, the
extra boost of feeling that drove him. His fist clenched tighter, and his
opponent dissolved into nothing through the air. Purpose that connects us.
At least it was a quick death. His fist had connected with his ribcage,
shattering every rib instantly, piercing his heart and lungs at the same
time. Nearly painless, but no one would be at his funeral. No one knew he
died, and no one knew him either. But alas, a mind that hinders on death
will not lead a fulfilling life. With no regrets, he turned around from the
particles of his falling opponent, and he looked into the sky. Virgo's star
was in full radiance, a beautiful sight to behold, especially from such a
close view. It's purpose, purpose that binds us to one another.
A Heavenly being. Goddess in shape, Goddess in figure, Goddess in reality.
The lunar light shone down upon a single position to the left of him. His
head took a moment to turn, to realize it was there, and he saw it. A
single white rose stood, alive, breathing. A tear fell down his cheek in
happiness, he was afraid, afraid he had destroyed all that was beautiful on
this planet. But alas, it seemed that life, would once again, find a way to
persevere. As his tear rolled down his cheek, he felt the graceful touch of
a silk-like smoothness on his face. He grasped her hand.
True happiness hides in the most obvious of places. Taking her in his arms,
and embracing her with all he was, he kissed her plush red lips and felt no
sorrow, no regret as they faded from sight. Faded into the moonlight. Two
lovers taken by their passion, taken to a new home, to a new life, a new
planet. A place where they could live without fear, a place where they
could live peacefully, where they finally be happy together. Hand in hand,
they would walk a million miles, climb all the mountains, and swim the
seas. As long as they were together.