Hunting Grounds [open]

People gathered around the Heran, yet no one was willing to make a move. He wouldn’t force anything either. There was no point in harming civilians needlessly as they wouldn’t get him where he needed to be. Only strong fighters would help him strengthen himself enough, granny had said so.

The crashing pod came from nowhere, landing perfectly in the middle of the street, luckily evading all of the civilians. What came out of the pod was quite the surprise for the Heran, too. None other than Gandigan had shown up…unless it was that demon again? Now that he thought about it, he didn’t have any memories of the man following the events that had occurred back with the strange witch lady.

“Gandigan…or is it Amon?” Dosu asked. What exactly was he doing here? Apparently, the Namekian was wondering much of the same. “I am looking for a powerful opponent. A lot has changed since we last met. I have to change my ways and can’t afford to play around anymore.”

A strong warrior who could rally his people back to him, in a culture where might makes right. As it stood, Dosu had no qualifications to make it happen, he wouldn’t even be perceived as a serious contender.

“So, which one are you? What happened to you back on Namek?” Ah, the sour memory of his loss against the demon witch and the need for Nero to intervene came back at him. Truly, it was a shameful moment that he couldn’t get past.

There was a more serious air to Dosu than what Gandigan must have been used to. He seemed less naive, not as laid back as he once was. He presented himself upright, straight and confident. Yet, the Namekian could feel the Heran was recognizing him as an ally, a friend.

“If you are the one I know, then I wish you no harm. Though, if you still are that demon, I will show you no mercy.”

The Heran frowned at the sight of the wound. He knew Gandigan -and Namekians, by extension- were able to heal from grievous wounds through some unknown methods. What had the demon done to Gandigan to keep him from recovering? Was it some more sorcery?

“How come you can’t heal from these wounds? I’ve seen you recover instantly before…” He paused. Why hadn’t fought Amon back then? Oh, right, that bastard Majin had forced someone to go berserk and he chose to fight her, seeing that the Namekian had people covering for him. “Who’s that Usi..usu…whatever? And why go to Konats? That place sucks.” He was straightforward as ever, uninformed and naive, but despite that, that carefree attitude was almost, but not totally absent.

His questions sparked some thoughts inside the Heran’s mind, questions he had asked himself over and over. Why was he so hellbent on changing? The ideas of power, strength, and might, are all variations of the same thing. Throughout his life he had been fine with leaving that to his family, knowing he could never hold a candle to them…but now that they had chosen a different path, he was left alone, a weak boy with a wish for things to go back to the way they were. But perhaps, hidden deep within himself was something he had trouble coming to terms with. Maybe, just maybe, that status quo he seemed so content with was just a deeply rooted lie and his true desire was to overcome his own fate and hold a candle to those he deemed so much better than him.

Just like that man in the folk tale his grandmother told him, long ago.

“After the tournament on Namek, I finally went back home to my people. In the two years I was absent, things had changed and my people lost their way. Splintered, going different paths. Some sought strength above all, others wanted to let go of traditions for the comfort of modernity…but I wanted for things to go back to how they were.”

That was his accepted discourse, at least the one he had convinced himself was the right thing to do.

“Granny told me I had gotten weaker ever since I left. Said that I lost my sharpness, that I had grown lazy and complacent. I think she is right. The people here, on Namek… They live easy and comfortable lives. They know when they will have their next meal, they know they will have a good night of sleep. They have nothing to think about, to plan ahead. They fight for fun, without any consequence. This is not the way to go. Granny trained me so I would remember all of this.”

Perhaps Gandigan had already noticed, perhaps he hadn’t paid any attention either, but Dosu had gotten a little slimmer in that time. His cheeks were a little concave and most important of all, several new scars barred his body, some not noticeable due to his clothing.

“That’s why I have to change. No one has done anything to me. I now need to fight strong people to put everything into practice.”

Perhaps the two were more alike than it seemed. Gandigan appeared to have a lot on his plate and stuff he needed to do. Meanwhile, the Heran was very much in a similar position, though he felt like his mind was in a bit of a haze. He had received training, but now it was up to him to let that knowledge blossom into something more concrete. That’s why he had this urgency to fight, to put the lessons into real life scenarios and grow from them. Was he taking things a bit too fast? Hah, the more he thought about it, the less sure he was about his plan.

“What a headache…” he grumbled. “It’s not just being strong. It’s about living up to my heritage. We are not like other Herans… We kept in touch with our roots, with what made us strong. Before the people built their cities and started living with their technology, we were dispersed in clans all over the planet. Before we could conquer the different ecosystems we settled in, we had to conquer ourselves, learn to hunt and kill for survival. Developed techniques and spirituality… I realize it’s not unlike other people and it’s nothing special. But once they settled in their big cities, Herans gave in to their egos. My ancestors stayed away from that path. That’s what I’ve been told.”

They were always the odd bunch, viewed as primitive and unintelligent -despite having access to infrastructures and electricity, just not abusing it for convenience-. Giving more insight to Gandigan, he continued.

“I have siblings who are incredibly gifted in strength and techniques. When I got back home after the tournament, I learned that they chose to quit and form their own gangs with their values, straying away from our culture. But I don’t want that. Yet, I can’t do anything about it. I don’t stand a chance the way I am. You should know yourself! I can’t produce any shred of energy, I can’t increase my power! That’s why I need to push myself, to break myself until I find what it is I am lacking!”

It was almost a plea for help, maybe if the Namekian had a miracle solution for his trouble. Weirdly enough, it was the first time he had opened up about this, always appearing nonchalant and easygoing to others. The recent months had been a tad bit heavier on his mood, however. The Namekian appeared worried about what he would do here, since there wasn’t strong people to test his mettle against.

“You’re worried I’ll start attacking at random? If so, I won’t. There’s no point… I’ll just go look elsewhere. I’ve met strong people here, that’s why I thought coming back here would be a good idea. What are you doing here?"