Post by Jagaimo on Jul 7, 2023 12:51:05 GMT -5
“AGAIN!”
Her voice was hoarse from shouting and her muscles ached from the repeated strain of prolonged exertion. Her arms and legs were bare and she wore a black sleeveless underarmour suit that was cut off above the knee. Everywhere on her exposed flesh were darkening bruises, a testament to how hard the other Saiyan’s in the sparring chamber had been attacking her and she knew from the ache across her back that there would be numerous welts and contusions hiding under her clothes as well.
Her meeting with Vocado had sparked all kinds of thoughts in her mind, at the forefront the very idea that she could reach the level of Super Saiyan, that that power was there somewhere inside her. Everytime she thought about it her mind flashed to Hatchi and what she had witnessed, what she had felt and the chill of it all ran up her spine. She didn’t want to lose herself but choice was there now? She needed to overcome whatever fear she felt regarding the golden warriors but it was easier said than done.
Nasu…Lottus…even Taori now by all accounts…they were great warriors, paragons of Saiyan might…she wasn’t even in the same league as them…never had been.
How had the others managed to unlock the next level of their own power? The Oozaru and Wrathful forms she had witnessed herself often involved intense anger so why not the next stage? Why should that be so different to anything that a Saiyan could already understand?
But it wasn’t working. She wasn’t angry…she was just disappointed…and sore…and tired. They’d be at this for hours now and she had barely allowed them to rest, allowed herself time to rest. If they wanted their plans to succeed she needed to be stronger, she needed to ascend like the others, to conquer whatever fear was holding her back…just…she wasn’t even sure she knew what she was afraid of.
The Saiyans in the sparring chamber were a mix recruits and veterans from all walks of the Saiyan military…nobles and academy grads mixing with trench sloggers and the low class, all testing themselves against each other, honing that edge and even though they didn’t admit it, trying to figure out who was top dog at this moment. Jagaimo had suppressed herself to better fit in and she wore no insignia even though she was justified to be recognised as a member of the Shredder Corps…she knew if she let people know then they would change how they attacked, worried that word would get back to Vocado they had attacked a member of his team..or worse, one of them would become overzealous in his effort to get noticed and try to actually kill her. No, better that they thought she was nothing more than an over eager grunt for now, less complications that way.
“Again! Comon what are you waiting for?!”
She called out as the last round of combatants stumbled away, turning slowly in the sand sparring circle on her bare feet, casting a look around, spitting and calling after them,
“Pathetic, no wonder the Tuffles held us back so long if this is the best we’ve got, not a real fighter among you!”
She waved her hands around, glaring over to a bunch of Saiyans of mixed ages in polished armour, likely self-styled Elites by the way they looked at everyone through their scouters and laughed or pointed without actually doing anything. Jagaimo’s raised arms showed off the bruises, the scrapes and black eye she was already sporting, flipping some obscene gesture she’s seen someone use on Arcose in their direction,
“Just like you noble born…too afraid to get into a real fight in case you scuff your armour or break a nail…”
She laughed…she was annoyed and agitated…not angry like she’d hoped to be but the goading felt good, let them know what she really thought of them…the urge to hurt someone becoming harder to hold back…
Her voice was hoarse from shouting and her muscles ached from the repeated strain of prolonged exertion. Her arms and legs were bare and she wore a black sleeveless underarmour suit that was cut off above the knee. Everywhere on her exposed flesh were darkening bruises, a testament to how hard the other Saiyan’s in the sparring chamber had been attacking her and she knew from the ache across her back that there would be numerous welts and contusions hiding under her clothes as well.
Her meeting with Vocado had sparked all kinds of thoughts in her mind, at the forefront the very idea that she could reach the level of Super Saiyan, that that power was there somewhere inside her. Everytime she thought about it her mind flashed to Hatchi and what she had witnessed, what she had felt and the chill of it all ran up her spine. She didn’t want to lose herself but choice was there now? She needed to overcome whatever fear she felt regarding the golden warriors but it was easier said than done.
Nasu…Lottus…even Taori now by all accounts…they were great warriors, paragons of Saiyan might…she wasn’t even in the same league as them…never had been.
How had the others managed to unlock the next level of their own power? The Oozaru and Wrathful forms she had witnessed herself often involved intense anger so why not the next stage? Why should that be so different to anything that a Saiyan could already understand?
But it wasn’t working. She wasn’t angry…she was just disappointed…and sore…and tired. They’d be at this for hours now and she had barely allowed them to rest, allowed herself time to rest. If they wanted their plans to succeed she needed to be stronger, she needed to ascend like the others, to conquer whatever fear was holding her back…just…she wasn’t even sure she knew what she was afraid of.
The Saiyans in the sparring chamber were a mix recruits and veterans from all walks of the Saiyan military…nobles and academy grads mixing with trench sloggers and the low class, all testing themselves against each other, honing that edge and even though they didn’t admit it, trying to figure out who was top dog at this moment. Jagaimo had suppressed herself to better fit in and she wore no insignia even though she was justified to be recognised as a member of the Shredder Corps…she knew if she let people know then they would change how they attacked, worried that word would get back to Vocado they had attacked a member of his team..or worse, one of them would become overzealous in his effort to get noticed and try to actually kill her. No, better that they thought she was nothing more than an over eager grunt for now, less complications that way.
“Again! Comon what are you waiting for?!”
She called out as the last round of combatants stumbled away, turning slowly in the sand sparring circle on her bare feet, casting a look around, spitting and calling after them,
“Pathetic, no wonder the Tuffles held us back so long if this is the best we’ve got, not a real fighter among you!”
She waved her hands around, glaring over to a bunch of Saiyans of mixed ages in polished armour, likely self-styled Elites by the way they looked at everyone through their scouters and laughed or pointed without actually doing anything. Jagaimo’s raised arms showed off the bruises, the scrapes and black eye she was already sporting, flipping some obscene gesture she’s seen someone use on Arcose in their direction,
“Just like you noble born…too afraid to get into a real fight in case you scuff your armour or break a nail…”
She laughed…she was annoyed and agitated…not angry like she’d hoped to be but the goading felt good, let them know what she really thought of them…the urge to hurt someone becoming harder to hold back…
Thread PL: 56,000 (Ki Suppression used to hold it at 5,600)
Anti-sense: Inactive
WC: 680
TWC: 680
Posts: 1
Anti-sense: Inactive
WC: 680
TWC: 680
Posts: 1