Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Forgotten ❯ The Forgotten ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z. I am however, still searching eBay for the rights to Vegeta.

Anyway. This is my second story, it's kind of short, and I'm not sure where I got the idea for it. I don't think it's as good as my first story, but I'd like you to review anyway please. Just don't flame me, I'm terrible at taking non-constructive criticism. This story's basically about the warriors who were really strong and important, and then just got pushed aside. It's just always a subject that's kind of pissed me off, so this is a sort of tribute to them. It's told from Krillin's point of view, but it's also about Yamcha, Tien, Piccolo, ect.

 

 

 

The Forgotten

 

We are the forgotten. The ones that somehow got left along the way. Got lost. No, that's not right. We didn't get lost exactly. We just didn't keep up. Couldn't keep up. Stragglers, Babidi called us. Dispose of the stragglers, he'd said.

We used to be the strongest. We used to be right up there at the top of the food chain. Now, we've fallen back, fallen behind. We've deluded ourselves we're still important for this long, but now it's just getting ridiculous. It's getting too hard.

It started years ago, but it probably didn't begin in earnest until the Cell Games. That was when it became painfully apparent that we weren't needed anymore.

Goku. Gohan. Vegeta. Trunks. They could all pose a serious threat to Cell, could all knock him down. What could we do? Throw a few punches, maybe, not one of them reaching their target, before we're carelessly tossed aside, making it humiliatingly obvious how insignificant we were. Little kids playing at being heroes.

Super Saiyan. It sums it all up, doesn't it, those two words. Super Saiyan. Super. That's what they all are, even little Trunks and Goten. They don't need us anymore. Every time the world gets in danger, all it seems to be is waiting around for one of them to reach the next level. Even when we were fighting Frieza, all we were doing was stalling for time for Goku to heal and come save us all.

And he always does. He always turns up just in the nick of time and saves the day. And it sounds so pathetic later on to say, “Hey, don't we get credit for keeping the bad guy busy while you were off having tea?” Because that's what it feels like sometimes. Every big battle, Goku's always turned up late, or left early. I know he's always doing something equally important, but it still feels like he's just relaxing while we're getting our butts kicked. If this were a TV show, I'd think it was to fill time, but it's not; it's real life. My real life.

But I know what we are. What we'll always be seen as. Goku's friends. Not people. Not warriors in our own rights, but merely extensions of the Saiyans, the important ones, the ones born with that ability to always become stronger, after every fight, instead of just lying on the battlefield, bleeding, waiting to be rescued.

I can see Goku smiling and laughing with his family, and we're still slightly apart from this scene. We didn't save the world. We only got in the way. Got ourselves hurt, or killed. We had to be rescued, like always. We are the forgotten warriors, the ones who fell behind.

I look back at Goku, and he finally notices, and grins at me.

“Come on!” he says, “join in, Krillen.”

I force myself to smile back at him, but deep down, I'm screaming at him, because he doesn't see me, doesn't see any of us, doesn't see that we're not a part of this group anymore.

And even when I join him, when I laugh and joke, when I pretend to enjoy myself, I still shout at him so loudly, even though he doesn't hear, he never hears.

You don't remember us at all, do you?