Skyborn

Chapter IV: I Get That A Lot

While he slept, he dreamed of her.

Dry blue-eyes. It was the first time he saw her in a different scene. She was inside a dark chamber staring at a piece of paper. It had something written on it.

Level F Soldier. Not approved for battle.

Another paper read: Insubordination. Hearing – attendance required.

She sat, quietly enduring. She didn't look sad. Just tired.

The door opened behind her. She didn't turn. In fact, she gave no indication that she had heard it. A man came up behind her, a soft shadow resting over her. He spoke; in that language Goku didn't know but understood.

You could've defeated him easily. Why didn't you?

There was a faint glimmer in her eyes. It came and went in just a second.

Winning means nothing if the weight of victory is too great to bear.

Her words were met with silence. Then he conceded.

I'll arrange for you to stay. You'll be safe here. You will never leave this planet again.

His words were meant to sound reassuring. It felt like a death sentence instead.

Goku's eyes shot open. The left side of his head was aching. His ear hummed. He was on a bed, he found. Bulma was sitting beside him, pressing a wet towel to his forehead. He was oddly touched by that.

"Wha–" He felt dizzy. Not quite out of that dream land. Yet painfully awake.

"Shhh," Bulma said. "You're okay. That idiot over that hit you with a baseball bat. He's awfully sorry about it. I made sure of it."

Goku glanced to the side. A man in blue rompers and a red flannel shirt sat in the corner looking ashamed. His hair was dark and tangled, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Wha–Why?"

"Well, you did bring his door down like the big bad wolf, didn't you?" Bulma said.

"Forgive me," the man said. He had a high pitched voice. "I mistook you for someone else."

"Really?" Goku tried to sit up. He didn't think he had a concussion. "Who? Who do you greet like that?"

"The terrible Oolong," said someone. Both Goku and Bulma turned. An elderly woman came out from the back room. She was short and plump. She walked with the aid of a staff. She turned to the man. "Sherman, you oaf. You've hurt an innocent boy. You should be ashamed of yourself." She had a thick accent.

"I am, Lady Farrah," Sherman said, head bowed low.

"Good. Otherwise I'd think you're no better than Oolong."

"Hold up," Bulma said. "Who's this Oolong?"

The old woman and Sherman exchanged a look. "He's a demon," she told them simply.

Oh great.

"A shifter, eh? Nobody knows what he truly looks like. Each time we see him he has a different shape. And they are terrible shapes, oh yes. Inhuman. Monstrous. Every so often, he comes and demands offerings. He takes and takes until we have nothing."

"Rations are low. Harvest hasn't been bountiful," Sherman told them. "The land isn't fruitful. We're in trouble. He's threatened to burn down the entire village if we don't deliver. We have nothing else to give."

"That's horrible," Goku said. For all his troubles, Goku had never gone hungry; couldn't imagine doing so. He believed in hard earnings and he believed in fairness. This wasn't it.