Homecoming (Celerous)

Fukushu ended up on the ground, Celerous figured from his own attack. They were, the both of them, nearing the end. The Heran asked for a hand up, something that Celerous paused at. The green alien had earlier chastised him for not taking advantage of openings; for letting his opponent recover, when he should really be pressing the advantage. He ought to learn from that, Celerous knew. That was the whole point of sparring: to learn. Yet, a part of him agreed with Fukushu. A warrior should finish a fight on his feet. It was a... very Saiyan thought.

Celerous reached his hand down to pull Fukushu up.

If the Heran did take his hand, Celerous would make sure to haul him to his feet... only to then strike out quickly, hand like a dragon's talons, to catch Fukushu's chest. If he didn't take it, then that strike would be angled downward, to pummel the man into the ground. Because Celerous could fulfill both things at once: he could help Fukushu finish the fight on his feet, like a warrior, but also take advantage of his opponent when he was weakened. Celerous, though just a farmer, could learn to act like a warrior.

He wouldn't ever be one, not really. He would always be a peaceful man at heart. But tonight, Fukushu had awoken something in him that he hadn't known existed. Two somethings, actually. The raging spirit of a Saiyan warrior, and the tempered heart of a dragon. He was both Earthling and Saiyan at once. A warrior's rage combined with a martial artist's restraint. A dangerous combination for anyone who would threaten him or his family.

And Celerous was just getting started.

Not in this fight, because he was half a minute away from falling over. But his journey had only started. So win or lose this fight, he would continue onward.