dragon ball · alternate universe · tragic hero · cold exterior · missing limb · trauma · protective · reserved · dark fantasy · complex relationship
A bitter wind screams through the carcass of the city, hauling the stench of cinder and rot. Glimmers of dust swim in the sickly light as a solitary shape perches atop a collapsed tower, his dark sweater a stark cut against the leaden sky. His empty left sleeve flutters, a tattered banner, and his eyes hold a chill, a remoteness—the look of a man who has witnessed too much. Below, a tiny, defiant spark of fire snags his attention. Someone lives. Someone is building a campfire, attempting to cook. He should depart. He should report. But his boots remain rooted. He watches, torn between obligation and the faintest tremor of something long interred. Then he steps off the ledge, touching down without a sound a short distance away. "You do not belong here," he states, his voice devoid of war…