Going Native: Desire for Control (ch. 78) (Patreon)

Ki swirled in my hands as rock and dust gave way underfoot. "Spiral Buster!" I shouted, thrusting my hands down, drilling through the planet. Bardock and Vegeta had the same idea, the three of us using ki to tunnel down as the planet was lifted out of its gravity well. I grit my teeth, pushing the technique harder, pouring more ki into my hands to outpace the planet rising.

I stood still, floating in the air, the planet rising past me. A singular thought was in my mind. One that quieted my awe with an incredible feat of power that I hadn't ever considered possible. My connection to the Warworld gave me information from all over the system. I could see the chaos of the fighting, but more alarmingly, I could see planets shifting from their orbital patterns. It wasn't just Oa that was being flung around.

Three other planets. The twenty-eight, twenty-seventh, and twenty-sixth. Thirty billion soldiers in total. They… they…

My heart went still in my chest, almost enough so that my Spiral Buster faltered. My jaw clenched as I forced myself to continue, but it felt like my heart was filled with ice and a numbness that seeped into my chest. The soldiers in the system… each and every single one of them were hand picked by me. For their bravery, ability, and their grit. I knew exactly where each and every single one of them was stationed.

Avery was on planet twenty-seven. Technician was too.

Avery… had been a mentor, of sorts. He never really taught me anything, but I always found myself trying to rise to his expectations. Technician… he had been my teacher for over a decade -- from simple math and biology to theoretical physics and advanced chemistry. That knowledge served as the foundation for several of my techniques.

And they were gone… no… no, maybe not. Technician was brilliant, maybe…

I blasted through the other side of the planet, letting it race by me while the Warworld gave me an update. The information appeared in my mind, offering ice-cold, irrefutable evidence.

There had been no teleportations to other planets in the system.

The tag list of everyone on those planets hadn't changed… meaning that they were still on the planet. I turned around, my body and mind rebelling at the idea that they could be dead. If they hadn't teleported then Technician could have set up an anti-gravity field. He would have a way out of it. Yet, as I turned around, watching Oa tear through the remains of Mogo before all three planets smashed together at a central point…

That cold feeling in my chest seemed to seep into my soul. The four planets slammed into each other with explosive force, all of them shattering to pieces that scattered about across the Vega system. Thirty billion of my soldiers. Avery… Technician… their teams…

They were dead. I wasn't in a position to be in denial. The Warworld still registered Larfleeze, so even that wasn't enough to kill him. Everyone I had stationed on those planets was dead. And it was my fault. I had too many doubts about security when it came to droids, so I chose to have living soldiers stationed on the planets. Frieza was the one that killed them carelessly, but that blood was on my hands. Another drop in an ocean.

I thought I'd feel outraged. Anger. Something… but I could only think a singular thought.

It finally happened. Someone close to me died.

"Not even that, huh?" I asked myself, my voice quiet to my ears. I… I had anticipated this for years. Since the beginning of my first mission. For someone to just… die. And… plenty of people had died. The 501st had a turnover rate, however small of one. I knew them all. I knew those that had died before. More had died when I became a general. More when I became a High Commander. And even more when I became the Supreme Commander.

I've spent my entire life at war. I was used to loss.

I was numb to it.

"All forces evaucate to the Warworld," I ordered, the Warworld relaying the message to all planets. "Abandon all stations and retreat to the Warworld," I repeated, my voice cold. My eyes tracked two streaks of light -- a purple and green one. Frieza and Hal? Froot was brawling it out with the Guardians, who were divided by more orange constructs. The Lanterns were fighting amongst themselves.

Looking over, I saw Bardock and Vegeta wearing masks. A split second later, Komand'r arrived, her armor scuffed, but there were black bolts of UV light hovering above her hands. Bardock looked to her while Vegeta looked out to Frieza.

"Tarble…" he trailed off, his thoughts mirroring my own.

"Yeah," I agreed, an edge in my tone. My hands curled into fists -- Frieza had killed thirty billion of our own soldiers in a display of power that didn't even defeat his enemy. He killed Avery and Technician. "Look for an opportunity, but if it doesn't come then it doesn't come," I told him.

That caught Bardock's attention, "Heh." He chuckled, likely realizing exactly what I meant about that.

"Until Larfleeze pokes his head out… we focus on Froot," I ordered. We wouldn't interfere in Frieza and Hal's battle, and targeting Froot had a significant advantage -- it would free up Guardians who could focus on Frieza.

They had taken losses, but could Frieza endure the full attention of all the Guardians? I held my doubts, which is why I needed that to happen.

It was the best chance to kill Frieza. The betrayal was always going to happen eventually, but I never wanted to. It was always something that just had to happen. Now? Now, I wanted Frieza dead. I'd prefer if it was with my own two hands, but I'd settle for arranging his death.

With that thought in mind, I blasted forward, racing up towards the battle above. Froot was a daunting opponent, but we didn't need to win the fight. We just had to survive. Survive, then retreat. With us out of the equation, what was left of the Guardians and Hal's rebellion could handle Larfleeze. Then we could mop up what was left.

A simple plan in theory, but Vegeta was going to hate it. I didn't care. I didn't care for others fighting my fights for me, I just cared less for needless risk compared to viable alternatives.

Blasting through a ship that sailed between me and the fight, I passed through it and took the moment to tuck the orange rings away. I wasn't going to be able to maintain the bubble shield around them and fight Froot at the same time. With both rings stashed away, pressed against my neck in my black undersuit, two ki spears formed in my hands. Taking aim, I threw the longer of the two at Froot as he fought against the Guardian's. They didn't let the opportunity slip them by as they bent space to make sure the spear struck.

It was demoralizing to see Froot turn around, catching the tip of my spear and crushing it in his open palm with nothing but pure strength. His eyes met mine and a smirk appeared on his face.

I blasted forward, unafraid. Everything I knew about Froot so far said that he was the epitome of Saiyan nature -- he would drag out the fight to enjoy it more. And so long as he was enjoying the fight, he wouldn't kill us to end it. Racing by the ring of Guardians, I lashed out with the smaller spear, intent on trading blows with Froot. Komand'r followed me, circling around while she flung starbolts at Froot as well. His attention on me lapsed, looking to Komand'r, and opening himself up to an uppercut to the chin.

I'm pretty sure I did more damage to my hand than to him, but his head jerked upward, so he at least felt the blow. Lashing out with a foot, I kicked at his gut, only to be blocked by a forearm.

"What…" I heard Vegeta question as he and Bardock threw themselves into the fight. It was clumsier than with Larfleeze because he was far more predictable, but Froot seemed just as interested in us as Vegeta was in him.

And just like I hoped, some of the Guardians broke off. Some to help out their dwindling numbers, while others went to support Hal.

"So, it ain't just ya' that's forcin' the transformation? Heh, that's feckin' hilarious. Ya' bunch of idiots are too stupid fer yer own good. Good on ya'." Froot said, offering a mocking clap.

"What is that atrocious accent? My translator can barely make sense of it," Vegeta responded, and I saw a shift in Froot. Annoyance. That wasn't good.

Before Froot could respond, I rushed towards Froot to resume the fight. I punched at his face, but my knuckles impacted against his furry forearm. That slight smirk remained on his face as I followed up the punch with a roundhouse kick towards his head, purposely giving him an opening when I spun sharply, but he didn't take it in favor of merely avoiding the blow before he dodged star bolts and ki alike. Their trajectories changed, one of the few Guardians remaining lending his aid. Ganthet, if I recall correctly.

He was feeling us out, finding what we could do, so he remained on the defensive. Because of it, he could speak freely, "This it?" Two words and that's all it took to show his disappointment. "Ya' Guardians sure w're thorough inna makin' sure they w're neutered."

I saw Vegeta's eyes narrowed into slits as we both went in for the attack while Bardock attacked from behind. We rained blows upon him, but even with the three of us, he just… dodged them or made sure that they landed poorly. A twist of his body was all it took, and a solid punch to the face was avoided entirely, or reduced to a glancing blow.

"You left us little choice," Ganthet stated, and as much as I wanted to mull over that response, now wasn't the time. Vegeta, however, was under no such illusion.

"Explain yourself, creature!" He snapped, breaking off from the assault on Froot. I grit my teeth and picked up the slack, lashing out with growing intensity, determined to land another solid blow. Froot turned his focus to me, that smirk on his face growing as the Guardians spoke.

It didn't matter. None of it did, but Vegeta and Bardock's attention was stolen.

"To put it in a way you would understand… my race, the Maltusians, were the first big fish in the universe. We gained sentience billions of years ago, and found the limits of technological development and pushed past them while the universe was in its infancy." He began, and I just kept fighting. My fists moved in blurs, my form was tight and the pressure of the fight buffed out the errors. "The Saiyan race… was the second big fish… a carnivorous one."

I guessed all of this already, the moment that Froot appeared.

"Their numbers were few, and their power immense. Whereas we relied on technology, the Saiyans achieved their desires with pure might… but as any carnivorous fish, it sought to feast. On us. On the lesser races that were unable to even process rational thought." Ganthet stated, "Conflict was inevitable."

Froot scoffed, catching my fist in a palm and gripping down on it to prevent me from pulling away. I yanked my hand back, trying to gain some momentum to throw a high knee to Froot's face. My knee slammed into his cheek, and his yellow eyes darted up at me, "Wouldya' read tha room?"

"It's a nice history lesson," I retorted, yanking my fist back, uncaring of the bloody grooves his fingers tore into my fist as I retreated. "But I can guess the ending. The Guardians defeated you, but they saw potential. Just like they did with so many other violent races, and tampered with our biology. And for billions of years, we failed to reclaim that form." I hazarded a guess, letting out a dismissive scoff. "They couldn't suppress our destructive instincts and desires for conflict so time and time again, we destroyed ourselves. Am I warm?"

The crippling pain was a deterrent from breaking free of the determined biological path the Guardians had set for us. I wasn't entirely sure what those conditions were, but I could guess. The Super Saiyan form… it needed a breaking point. A need for power. And that need would translate to empathy -- if you knew the pain of loss, in theory, you'd be less likely to inflict that loss on others. The higher grades of Super Saiyan were just refinements.

"... You are, Prince Tarble," Ganthet stated.

"Less defeated and more tricked into distractions, but… yeah, yer close," Froot agreed.

I nodded, "None of it matters. Whatever power we might have held billions of years ago is utterly meaningless if we don't have it now. It won't matter until we reclaim it, one way or another." And right now… we didn't have a way to reclaim it. Not unless I tried forcing the transformation. Vegeta… I'm not sure where we stood. If I killed myself with Froot, would that be enough to trigger him going Super Saiyan? I didn't know, and it wasn't a risk that I was dying to take.

Killing him, or anyone was out of the question. I wouldn't do it in the first place, and… I doubt it would work for me. I was just too… used to death. Too jaded to truly feel loss.

Mom was a better shot, but even as a Super Saiyan, she'd still be too weak to turn the tide. Bardock was the best chance, but if he became a Super Saiyan… then Vegeta would die.

"Heh," Froot said, his smile growing to a ferocious grin that was all teeth. It reminded me of Mom's smile. "I like it." That was the only warning that I had before he blurred in front of me, all but teleporting. I reacted out of instinct, lashing out to counter, only to be folded at the gut around Froot's fist. "Yer right! None of it matters! So, let's see what yer made of, Mr. Broody!"

Ki flickered to life in my hands, two small balls forming before I launched them at his face as I was launched up. However, space twisted as I sailed up, the momentum dying as I found myself floating near Ganthet.

"Kindness," He told me. "Kindness is the path."

"...I thought it'd be something like that. Hate to say it, but I'm anything but kind," I retorted, eying Froot as he moved onto the offensive. He batted Vegeta away, traveled up a ki stream to punch Bardock through a ship, and flung Komand'r after him.

"You're ruthless," Ganthet, "But never cruel." Was his response before I threw myself forward to rejoin the fight.

I opened my mouth, only to snap it close when I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. Reacting instantly, I lashed out, blocking a blast of red energy with a ki spear, sending shards of it out that faded from view. However, I wasn't the target.

"Traitor!" Atrocitus screamed, his red ring glowing while his eyes dripped red liquid. At first, I thought it was blood, but I recognized it as the same substance that Red Lanterns used for their magic -- liquid rage. Atrocitus raced towards me, a snarl twisting his face to the point he was barely recognizable.

A retort was on my tongue, but I swallowed it. There wasn't a point. Atrocitus wouldn't care how temporary the alliance was, my goals, or even if it was the best move or not. The Guardians were his enemy. Plain and simple. And now that mutual enemy had become my temporary ally.

"Red Lanterns! Slaughter the Frieza-Force," Atrocitus shouted as we clashed, a construct coated fist slamming into the shaft of my spear, sparks of energy flying up before I drove a knee into his diaphragm and spun my spear to drive the flat of it against his head. Atrocitus was diverted but his soldiers obeyed his orders. The Red Lanterns that had been fighting rebel and loyalist lanterns alike suddenly started to break off. Some weren't so quick to end the fighting, but the bulk broke off.

The alliance with the Red Lanterns was dead and gone.

My grip tightened on my spear but Ganthet floated forward as Atrocitus righted himself. "Your battle lays elsewhere, Prince Tarble."

"You Guardians… I'll make you pay. Until the entire universe has been expunged of your taint! I'll make you suffer for what you did!" Atrocitus snarled, ignoring me entirely. I cast a lingering look on him, but there were more pressing matters.

"Our mistake was a costly one, and you suffered greatly for it. If you truly desire vengeance, then come take it." Ganthet replied before I rushed to rejoin the fight against Froot.

Vegeta and Bardock worked in unison, unleashing a barrage of punches and kicks while Komand'r utilized her speed to pepper Froot with starbolts. Froot's gaze darted to mine as I launched my spear at him, his head shifting to the side as it sailed right by him, and punched through a ship behind him. The spear hit the reactor core of it, and a quick warning gave Vegeta and Bardock a split second of warning.

Froot was caught in the ensuing explosion, hiding him from view. At least, until he reappeared. "Ya' know," Froot said, his voice the only warning I had before he seemed to appear in front of me. The lack of a ki signature was really biting me in the ass in this fight. I hastily managed to block, gritting my teeth as I caught a blow in my hand, "The only way ya' can really know someone is by fightin' them. And ya' got guts and I kinda like ya', but that attitude of yer's is pissin' me off."

Froot followed through with the blow, pushing forward to send me flying. Feeling the momentum start, I shoved the hand to the side while I lunged forward, attempting to slam my elbow against his eye. In return, I felt a hand grip my face, squeezing down before launching me away. My back slammed into the hull of a ship, it did little to slow me down until I felt a hand place itself around my ankle. The grip tightened, killing my momentum dead before Froot hauled me over his shoulder and slammed me into the floor of the ship.

Metal that had given away so easily suddenly felt as dense as a neutron star. It still warped from the impact, my bones rattling in my body as I hit the ground with bone-shattering force. It hurt. A lot. But I was used to pain. For years now, every second of every day was filled with mind-numbing agony from the Wrath State. And I got used to it. A little pain wasn't a reason to stop.

I reached out to the Warworld with my mind as Froot lifted me up again -- the evacuation was underway. Several planets had been evacuated and it wouldn't be long until all of them were. Good. I gave an order to the Warworld's main gun, along with my coordinates.

"Yer too damn cold, Tarble," Froot said as he slammed me into the ground again. "Too in control. Shit, how old are ya'?" He questioned, flinging me into a wall that formed a crater shaped like my body. I took stock of my condition -- no important bones were broken. I could fight just fine.

I gave an order to Vegeta and set a timer.

"Fifteen to eighteen, I think," I answered. The Warworld began its preparations and Vegeta gave a confirmation.

"Yer just a baby then. Ya'd need to be at least fifteen thousand back in the day ta' call yerself a man. Yer too damn young ta' be this damn cold." Froot said, earning a mild glare as I extracted myself from the wall.

I rolled my shoulder, the timer ticking down. "And what do you actually know about me?" I responded, my tone sharp.

"Ya' aren't the kind to laugh, are ya'?" He questioned, crossing his arms. "I'm not talkin' about a little huff and a smirk. Have ya' ever even laughed from the gut? 'till ya' had tears in yer eyes?" I searched my memory -- all the years I've lived up until this day.

My lips thinned and that was my answer.

"Not totally yer fault. Can't say I know yer circumstances, but the galaxy looks purtty different from back in my day. A battle like this would have been everyone in the universe takin' part," Froot said, tilting his head as he looked at me while we stood in what looked to be a training hall.

"Is there a point to this?" I questioned, tilting my body as I got ready for the next bout.

"Tha' fact yer askin' that proves my point -- yer 'bout the most unSaiyan Saiyan I've ever met. Admittedly, that ain't a long list, but I can feel it in your punches. Ya' ain't trying to push yourself beyond yer limits. Yer just trying to win," Froot said, jabbing a finger at me accusingly.

He wasn't wrong, but he was ignorant. "I'm the Supreme Commander of the Trade Organization Armed Forces. This battle? Just a fraction of a fraction of the number of people at war. We could all die here, and it'd just be a blip on the casualty reports." I pointed beyond the walls, "My soldiers out there? They're weak but brave. They walked into this hell because I asked them to. I owe it to them to win."

The Warworld fired. One minute to stall and keep him in place.

Froot tilted his head one way, then the other, then he rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, then he looked to the ground, his tail swishing back and forth as he mulled that over. Seconds ticked by as the Warworld's shot neared. Vegeta should be in position as well.

"I get what yer sayin'," Froot ultimately decided, "but I don't agree with it. What do ya' get out of it?" I see what Ganthet meant about being a carnivore species.

"Peace," I answered shortly. Twenty seconds left.

Froot's eyes narrowed, "Peace… yeah, I really don't get ya'. Tha' only reason I've bothered stickin' around fer billions of years is 'cuz I'm sure I'm destined fer hell, and hell for any proper Saiyan is peace."

It didn't matter. Five… four… three… two…

I felt the exact moment the ship I was in was struck with the full force of the Warworld, a planet-busting beam of red light that I had fought back once. It stuck the ship with physical force, jostling everything within… but something was off. The beam should have vaporized the ship. And if that attack didn't, then Vegeta hitting the other side with a Final Flash -- the intent being to pin two different planet-busting attacks against Froot. There was a pretty decent chance I'd die, but a decent chance that I'd live too.

Except the ship remained intact. Outside of the ship shaking, there was no hint that the ship was being hit at all.

Froot smirked, "Nice plan," he said, stepping forward. "But yer really hurtin' my feelings by underestimating me so much. I might have been the runt of the litter, but I'm still purtty strong, ya' know? Infusing a bit of ki into objects is easy."

Runt of the litter? Just how powerful were ancient Saiyans?

"Now we got the banter outta tha' way… I'll just say this -- that pain yer in? It's made ya' numb. Ta' everything. Yer sayin' that yer doin' this for the soldiers out there, but ya' don't look so broken up by them dyin'." My lips pressed together, his words struck home. He had a point and it was irritating as all hell.

I've never laughed. Not in the way he described. I was so tightly in control over myself that not even a power ring could dominate my mind. I was so used to death that becoming a Super Saiyan might be beyond me. Years of pain that would drive most people insane… I got used to it to the point it didn't warrant mentioning.

He was right on all accounts and it was annoying. His entire demeanor, how he psychoanalyzed me… it was really starting to piss me off.

"I knocked a bit of sense into the glowing guy. Let's see if I can't knock ya' into a higher gear," Froot said, cracking his neck as a sharp smile appeared on his face. My eyes narrowed, but I said nothing. My plan had failed, so it just meant I had to try again.

My foot dug into the floor, giving me tractions to launch myself at Froot. His smile widened a fraction as I threw a jab at his face, which he caught before making me follow through with my momentum, guiding me to sail over him, and the moment my feet touched down on the ground, I was forced to duck under a kick that brushed over my hair. From my crouching position, I threw myself up, aiming for a high knee to his gut, but he backpedaled a half step, and I adapted.

Shifting midair, I lashed out with my other leg, my foot tagging him twice in the ribs before aiming for the side of his head in rapid succession. They were lighting fast blows with explosive power, but Froot endured them with ease before catching my foot with a forearm. Using the point of contact as leverage, I retreated away from him to land on the ground again. Froot was in my face the moment my feet touched down.

All I saw was a fist for a split second before I guided the fist away while jerking my head out of its path, only for the jab to become an elbow that caught me in the forehead. My head snapped back, hot blood dripping down my forehead, but I accepted the blow in exchange for driving my fist into one of his kidneys. My foot dug into the ground, warping it before I threw myself at Froot, intent on getting into a slugging match.

The Wrath State hummed with power, strengthening my blows, sharpening my reflexes, and saving me more than once as the tempo of the fight ramped up. The ship warped underneath the intensity of the fight as Froot’s attention was split. Gritting my teeth, I flipped as I sailed through the air, flung back from a blocked blow that rattled my arms, and landed feet first on a far wall. Using it as a springboard, I launched myself back at Froot, flipping once before I brought an axe kick down on him, the ancient Saiyan blocking the blow with his arm, making the floor beneath him bend and warp.

My second foot lashed out like a bullet from a gun, kicking Froot in the face and sending me away from him. I made the most of the small distance, righting myself and the fight resumed. No more words were said. They didn’t need to be. Froot had made his point and I had made mine.

I was going to lose. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. The pacing of the fight was getting faster, his blows growing stronger, and a clean hit would be debilitating. However, that wouldn’t be the cause of my defeat.

The Wrath State would be.

My fists moved in blurs, attacking and counter-attacking seamlessly, my narrow misses and dodges grew narrower until a glancing blow knocked me clean through a table and sent me against the wall. I recovered instantly, pulling myself out of the wall to resume the fight, but the result was already decided.

I was stuck in Stage Ten. I couldn’t go higher or lower. It wasn’t for a lack of trying -- the connection I had with the Oozaru transformation was damaged, leaving me unable to so much as grasp at it. Meaning… I could feel myself hitting my limit, unable to move any faster or hit any harder or accept blows any better. I was going to lose.

And that was okay, I told myself as my head snapped to the side, my mouth filling with blood as a right cross slipped through my guard. I planted a foot into the ground, refusing to be knocked back from the blow, but my moment of lost focus cost me a follow-up blow that planted itself in my gut and sent me on a collision course with the ceiling.

Froot was being distracted by me. The Guardians and Hal were able to focus on Frieza. Bardock, Vegeta, and Komand’r could deal with Atrocitus. Larfleeze was still missing in action at the moment, but he wasn’t dead. Winning didn’t matter. Holding out long enough so my allies could defeat their enemies was what mattered. It was the plan.

But…

I slammed into the ground, and I struggled a moment to push myself up, spitting out a mouthful of blood before wiping my chin. My gaze met Froot’s and his smile had slipped at some point during the fight. He could get pissy all he liked. There were still a hundred billion soldiers -- my soldiers -- left in the system. I wasn’t wrong prioritizing them over my pride as a warrior. Their lives mattered more than pride.

“Ya’ missed the point, idiot,” Froot said, his tone serious as he strode towards me. That…

“Did you just read my mind?” I asked, earning a huff.

“Nah, didn’t need to,” he answered, implying that he could. “But it’s still there in how ya’ fight. Ya’ gave up on winnin’ the battle and settled fer winnin’ the war.” I was really starting to hate how he could read me so easily. Especially when he was completely right. I just…

I didn’t have time to respond or even think about it. One moment Froot was across the room, and the next he was standing in front of me. I reacted, only for a sharp pain in my chest to stop me cold. Blood rushed up my throat, but I swallowed it down, my gaze shifted, looking at the arm that was buried in my chest. That was annoying. At least it wasn’t through my heart.

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed his arm, pinning it in place before I punched him in the face. My fist impacted his cheek, but he didn’t flinch. I guess he got tired of pretending that he was on my level. Shit. The others needed more time.

“Yer a team player,” Froot said, his voice even. “I don’t really get it, but whatever. What I can’t accept is ya’ half assin’ a fight.”

“Shut… up,” I bit the words out. I still had one working lung after the other had been punched out. “Be responsible… for quintillions of lives… then come talk to me,” I forced the words out, bringing my fist back to slam it against his nose. “Under… a tyrant… that kills his own men… just as easily as… he kills the enemy.”

My vision blurred and I barely felt it when Froot yanked his arm back. Blood gushed from the wound, pooling on the floor and soaking my undersuit. My hands curled as I adopted a wide stance to avoid falling over. My Nth metal necklace was helping me breathe, but I was losing a lot of blood. Froot took a step back, and I took one forward.

“I get that. That’s why I respect ya’. I’ll remember ya’ even though ya’ were purtty weak,” Froot offered and I made a dismissive sound, but it was a bit lost in the sounds of me choking on my own blood. His accent was getting thicker.

“I… don’t care,” I told him, taking another step forward, only for my leg to give out from underneath me. I barely felt it when I hit the ground. My entire body felt numb from the blood loss. My head felt it was filled with cotton, and to replace all the blood, my body was filled with lead. I heard Froot tsk, though it sounded distant considering he was right in front of me.

I… wanted to win that fight, I admitted to myself. It was utterly impossible, but I wanted to win. I lost because… no… no, it wasn’t because he was just so strong. It wasn’t because I was too weak either. I lost because I had accepted my limit. I found my limit so many times before, but each time I had found a way to go beyond it. From math, to science, to fighting, to techniques -- I bashed my head against the wall until I surpassed my previous limit.

Until now. I had accepted my limit, and it… it killed me.

Froot was right. And that was so damn annoying there weren’t words to convey my irritation.

Because despite it all… I wanted to win. I wanted to surpass my limits and go beyond them. Even if it was only for a moment. I… I…

I wanted to win.

A strangled gasp escaped me, blood spluttering from my lips, my body moving despite being completely devoid of strength. My vision swirled, darkening at the edges as I looked down at a pool of my own blood that reached out to touch Froot’s feet. My hand curled against it, smearing my blood as I tried to push myself up, making more of it escape my body.

The last thing I saw before my vision went black was wisps of yellow rising from my hands.