The Saiyan Heritage and the Loneliness of the Warrior [Piccolo x OC]

Chapter 01

LETTIE

I've never imagined that, in a period of less than 24 hours, I would lose my home, be kidnapped, discover that I had two older brothers and that I am part of an almost extinct alien race, be kidnapped AGAIN, and form an alliance between a green alien and a four-year-old child, so we could save humanity from its total destruction.

Yup. That's what you've read.

It was just not my day. Or it was, because that day changed my life forever.

I was doing great, seriously!, fighting in a clandestine tournament on an afternoon that I no longer remember what day of the week it was.

What? There's nothing wrong with fighting in clandestine tournaments.

Okay. I admit that something might be wrong when it had the word "clandestine" on it. But what could I do? That was my livelihood, the only thing I knew how to do well as long as I remember. Besides, they would let me live in one of the rooms of that place, paying half the rent that a sloppy neighborhood in downtown would charge me.

I was standing in the ring of that dimly lit warehouse, surrounded by a lattice fence that prevented the competitors from falling into the crowd, insane by the heat of the fight.

Ahead of me, a gigantic man looked at me with sadistic and dark eyes. His hairy body was shaped like a ball, wearing black leather belts around his wrists and neck, covered only by a black underwear.

Ew.

"Lettie! Lettie! Lettie!" The crowd in the stands shouted my name, trying to cheer me up after I was punched in the cheek by my opponent. It was clear they had bet on me, and it was no joke getting to the final of that tournament. My body was aching from how much I had already fought today.

Just one more fight and I would be able to pay for the expenses until the next fortnight. Who knows, I might even be able to buy a new waistband for my kimono, which had seen better days. Oh, although it would be better to save some money to buy my own house one day. But, there's also that nice recipe book I've seen in the bookstore... Gee, it was hard choosing what to do with so little.

However...

Why was I feeling an anguish growing in my heart? Why, no matter how much people praised my name, their voices didn't affect me?

I looked at my opponent on the other side, waiting for me to strike the next blow, and I asked the question that surrounded me for years:

What was I doing there?

What was the point of it all?

What was I fighting for?

I feel the adrenaline of the fights running through each drop of my blood; I feel a vigor that I don't know if it comes from me or from the euphoria of the fights; I feel like there's something roaring inside me, but I cannot find the voice for it.

At the same time, I love it and I hate it.

At the same time, I feel nothing and I feel everything.

I don't know if I have the technique, but I lack strength; or if I have strength and lack technique.

I needed a teacher, a tutor, whatever! — someone who would teach me and guide me on how to fight properly. If not for the pleasure of fighting, then so I could win more tournaments, earn more money, and have a better life quality.

But who would teach a woman who barely has the financial means to survive until the end of the month? Who would teach me for free?

"HEY, LETTIE! ARE YA GOING TO DAYDREAM ALL DAY?! I BET ON YOU! FINISH HIM, NOW!"