Translation
Fanfic: Schwertkampf (KurzFF, Sinnlos, Brutal)
Chapter: Sword Fight (KurzFF, Sinnlos, Brutal)
A short FF. Doesn't make sense, just a little winter, a little sword fighting and all that. So just read and have fun and don't be angry with me if you don't like the ending * g *
Sword Fighting
The snow crunched under his bare feet. Individual snowflakes landed on the bare steel and melted after a while. In small streams they ran down the blade to the handle, where they lost themselves in the leather. The shirt stuck to his body, soaked with sweat, snow, and blood. His breath gave way to his mouth in a small cloud of steam, he was exhausted and tired. He listened into the dark night, but he didn't hear a single sound. Only the faint rustling of the wind that whirled the snow around and formed obscure figures. Sometimes it seemed to him as if the snow was pounding on him, engulfing him in the icy cold and holding him in a cold prison forever.He stretched his right arm, but a sharp pain stopped him. Directly under the elbow, there was a gaping wound across his forearm to the back of his hand. Oddly enough, he couldn't remember how he got that wound, let alone how he got there. He winced, wasn't there a shadow? There behind the fir trees that stood like lonely guards in this thick snow? He listened intently, wasn't the snow crunching under a couple of feet there? He let out the breath he had been holding and calmed down. There was no sound, just him and his imagination. To shake off the fear completely, he laughed. But his laugh sounded helpless and wrong and it was lost in the darkness of that winter night. Something blinded him, he looked down at himself in confusion, his eyes followed the red line of the wound to his hand, which clutched a thin sword hilt. It was a very simple sword, the hilt was wrapped in leather and the narrow, bluish steel reflected the moonlight.He looked up, the moon lit the sky and made the snow cover shine in a ghostly white light. A branch cracked somewhere, behind him. He looked around. And suddenly it was there, the certainty that there was something out there in the dark. Something that chased him, was looking for him. Another branch cracked, this time to his right. There was a ruin of an old wall there, the chimney sticking like a giant finger through the snow into the night. If he could see it, there was a wide, white area to his left, and behind him was the forest, like a natural wall. Again something cracked in the thick wood, louder and closer than before. "It's in the forest," he said to himself, his voice a hoarse croak. It tried to surprise him, it would come from ambush and he would see it when it was too late. His gaze fell on the wide plain. That is where he would have the best chance of survival should a fight break out.So he ran quietly from the forest to the plain when he heard another crack in the branches. And as he ran, he knew it was behind him, something big that was catching up. He ran faster, but it was getting closer and closer, he screwed up his eyes for a moment. Wake up! , he kept telling himself. He reached the plain, looked around. But he was alone. He slid to a stop. The moon was reflected in the snow. The plain was a frozen lake, slippery and cold. Somewhere out there came a muffled rumble. But he was still alone on the lake. In front of him lay the forest, above him the moon, below him water and behind him, there was only the night. Panic seized him, in all these years he had never been so afraid of an opponent. Neither Frezza nor Cell had sent such shivers down his spine. He wished that he would finally see his enemy, that the uncertainty disappeared, the fear of the unknown. Another hoarse roar rumbled through the night. THERE!Hadn't the fir trees moved? He blinked and tried hard to see something. And then a large shadow broke out of the forest and stopped near the ruin. There was about 250 yards between the shadow and him, but through the snow he could only see the large, black shadow. Then a cloud moved in front of the moon and he lost sight of the shadow. But he had learned to rely on all of his senses. So he listened hard. The ice cracked softly as the shadow stepped onto the lake. Crack ... crack. The crack of the ice echoed softly through the darkness. Then suddenly the cracking stopped. He blindly tried to find out where his opponent was. But it was in vain, but when the cloud let the pale light of the moon through again, he could at least see more or less. And he saw that at one point the snow had been brushed aside and he could make out a word from it: DIE! And then it was already there, he suspected it more than he saw it.A thin beam of shimmering light hissed through the air and missed his neck by a hair's breadth. "Who are you?" he yelled at the shadow. “I am many,” said a voice he did not recognize. No more words were exchanged, but steel flew through the air again, crashing into his own. The vibrations rattled through his arm, and he bit his lip in pain as the vibrations crawled down the wound. Then he and his opponent were embroiled in a dance, a deadly dance in which every mistake meant death. He fended off blow after blow, but he was only defending himself, his opponent didn't even give him time to think about an attack, even for a nanosecond. The swords kissed again, he managed to deflect the blow of his opponent downwards at an angle and he immediately struck the shadow blindly. His sword cut through snow, met no resistance and yet he had the feeling to have hit something.His opponent's sword clattered to the ground. He eyed the sword suspiciously. Was it over He leaned on his sword. His throat was dry and his heart was beating fast. The snow swirled up again, the opponent's sword rose from the ground, the snow formed a vortex around the hilt of the sword and he understood. His opponent was made of snow. The shadow had been the snow, incredibly thick, like a swarm. But this snow was no longer a simple swarm, it was rather a hurricane, the blade turned so fast that he only saw bluish streaks. Then the vortex raced towards him, helplessly he just held his sword stretched out. The spinning blade knocked his sword aside, he reacted a second too late and the blade cut across his flesh just above his navel. He got down on his knees and grabbed his stomach with his left hand. The blood shot through his fingers. "Damn it."He uttered between gritted teeth. The vortex made the sword dance close to his face. Despite his situation, he could not avoid admiring this snow creature. The snow vortex collapsed and built up again. Developed around the sword Strange shapes, until the fascinating structure rushed at him again. Sparks pattered against the snow and went out with a crackling sound. He hardly got to his feet again, since he had to constantly fend off the attacks. But somehow he managed it, he stood on his feet again. The swords circled, flew towards each other at breakneck speed, bounced off each other, and began their dance again. The last blow threw him into the air, immediately he was surrounded by a heavy snowdrift. Now he had to dodge attacks that came from all sides How do you defeat an enemy made up of billions of tiny snowflakes? This is the question he asked himself while playing dozen at the end of the blows only fended off, no sooner had he successfully repulsed the blow, the sword already cut the air from another point and always aimed precisely at the point that it could not possibly cover.The vortex took him high in the air and dropped him again from a great height. Screaming, he fell faster and faster to the ground, the vortex followed him and the sword was knocked out of his hand. It only took him 5 seconds to hit the ground without braking. Numerous wounds were inflicted on him within those 5 seconds. When he could open his eyes again, his entire body was covered in blood. He looked up, saw the vertebra a few millimeters from his head. The vortex didn't even give him time to scream.
"Vegeta? Are you all right?" Bulma looked at him worriedly. He straightened up with difficulty. In front of him was the Capsule Corp. , Bulma knelt next to him and Trunks and Son Goten stood a little further away. "Bu..Bulma?" "He's alive!" How? Is he alive? What happened anyway? Bulma turned around and called to her son: "Call an ambulance quickly." Vegeta looked at his arm. A gash stared at him. What happened?“Bulma?” A rush of blood shot out of his mouth and Bulma gently stroked his face. "Psst, my dearest Vegeta. Everything will be fine." She looked into his eyes. "Wait, I'll get a blanket. Stay awake, Vegeta. Please." Another helpless look, then she disappeared. Vegeta looked at the sky. It was early afternoon and it was snowing a little. There was a ladder above him. Had he fallen off the ladder? Something rustled in the elderberry bush behind him. With great difficulty he managed to fix his gaze there. There a little snow swirled up and down in a circular motion. And suddenly, right in front of him, snow began to blow up. The eddies, a dozen of them, rose into the air. They formed one word: DIE! Vegeta's eyes widened. The word blurred, but the eddies formed one word again: NOW!
END -----
The snow crunched under his bare feet. Individual snowflakes landed on the bare steel and melted after a while. In small streams they ran down the blade to the handle, where they lost themselves in the leather. The shirt stuck to his body, soaked with sweat, snow, and blood. His breath gave way to his mouth in a small cloud of steam, he was exhausted and tired. He listened into the dark night, but he didn't hear a single sound. Only the faint rustling of the wind that whirled the snow around and formed obscure figures. Sometimes it seemed to him as if the snow was pounding on him, engulfing him in the icy cold and holding him in a cold prison forever.He stretched his right arm, but a sharp pain stopped him. Directly under the elbow, there was a gaping wound across his forearm to the back of his hand. Oddly enough, he couldn't remember how he got that wound, let alone how he got there. He winced, wasn't there a shadow? There behind the fir trees that stood like lonely guards in this thick snow? He listened intently, wasn't the snow crunching under a couple of feet there? He let out the breath he had been holding and calmed down. There was no sound, just him and his imagination. To shake off the fear completely, he laughed. But his laugh sounded helpless and wrong and it was lost in the darkness of that winter night. Something blinded him, he looked down at himself in confusion, his eyes followed the red line of the wound to his hand, which clutched a thin sword hilt. It was a very simple sword, the hilt was wrapped in leather and the narrow, bluish steel reflected the moonlight.He looked up, the moon lit the sky and made the snow cover shine in a ghostly white light. A branch cracked somewhere, behind him. He looked around. And suddenly it was there, the certainty that there was something out there in the dark. Something that chased him, was looking for him. Another branch cracked, this time to his right. There was a ruin of an old wall there, the chimney sticking like a giant finger through the snow into the night. If he could see it, there was a wide, white area to his left, and behind him was the forest, like a natural wall. Again something cracked in the thick wood, louder and closer than before. "It's in the forest," he said to himself, his voice a hoarse croak. It tried to surprise him, it would come from ambush and he would see it when it was too late. His gaze fell on the wide plain. That is where he would have the best chance of survival should a fight break out.So he ran quietly from the forest to the plain when he heard another crack in the branches. And as he ran, he knew it was behind him, something big that was catching up. He ran faster, but it was getting closer and closer, he screwed up his eyes for a moment. Wake up! , he kept telling himself. He reached the plain, looked around. But he was alone. He slid to a stop. The moon was reflected in the snow. The plain was a frozen lake, slippery and cold. Somewhere out there came a muffled rumble. But he was still alone on the lake. In front of him lay the forest, above him the moon, below him water and behind him, there was only the night. Panic seized him, in all these years he had never been so afraid of an opponent. Neither Frezza nor Cell had sent such shivers down his spine. He wished that he would finally see his enemy, that the uncertainty disappeared, the fear of the unknown. Another hoarse roar rumbled through the night. THERE!Hadn't the fir trees moved? He blinked and tried hard to see something. And then a large shadow broke out of the forest and stopped near the ruin. There was about 250 yards between the shadow and him, but through the snow he could only see the large, black shadow. Then a cloud moved in front of the moon and he lost sight of the shadow. But he had learned to rely on all of his senses. So he listened hard. The ice cracked softly as the shadow stepped onto the lake. Crack ... crack. The crack of the ice echoed softly through the darkness. Then suddenly the cracking stopped. He blindly tried to find out where his opponent was. But it was in vain, but when the cloud let the pale light of the moon through again, he could at least see more or less. And he saw that at one point the snow had been brushed aside and he could make out a word from it: DIE! And then it was already there, he suspected it more than he saw it.A thin beam of shimmering light hissed through the air and missed his neck by a hair's breadth. "Who are you?" he yelled at the shadow. “I am many,” said a voice he did not recognize. No more words were exchanged, but steel flew through the air again, crashing into his own. The vibrations rattled through his arm, and he bit his lip in pain as the vibrations crawled down the wound. Then he and his opponent were embroiled in a dance, a deadly dance in which every mistake meant death. He fended off blow after blow, but he was only defending himself, his opponent didn't even give him time to think about an attack, even for a nanosecond. The swords kissed again, he managed to deflect the blow of his opponent downwards at an angle and he immediately struck the shadow blindly. His sword cut through snow, met no resistance and yet he had the feeling to have hit something.His opponent's sword clattered to the ground. He eyed the sword suspiciously. Was it over He leaned on his sword. His throat was dry and his heart was beating fast. The snow swirled up again, the opponent's sword rose from the ground, the snow formed a vortex around the hilt of the sword and he understood. His opponent was made of snow. The shadow had been the snow, incredibly thick, like a swarm. But this snow was no longer a simple swarm, it was rather a hurricane, the blade turned so fast that he only saw bluish streaks. Then the vortex raced towards him, helplessly he just held his sword stretched out. The spinning blade knocked his sword aside, he reacted a second too late and the blade cut across his flesh just above his navel. He got down on his knees and grabbed his stomach with his left hand. The blood shot through his fingers. "Damn it."He uttered between gritted teeth. The vortex made the sword dance close to his face. Despite his situation, he could not avoid admiring this snow creature. The snow vortex collapsed and built up again. Developed around the sword Strange shapes, until the fascinating structure rushed at him again. Sparks pattered against the snow and went out with a crackling sound. He hardly got to his feet again, since he had to constantly fend off the attacks. But somehow he managed it, he stood on his feet again. The swords circled, flew towards each other at breakneck speed, bounced off each other, and began their dance again. The last blow threw him into the air, immediately he was surrounded by a heavy snowdrift. Now he had to dodge attacks that came from all sides How do you defeat an enemy made up of billions of tiny snowflakes? This is the question he asked himself while playing dozen at the end of the blows only fended off, no sooner had he successfully repulsed the blow, the sword already cut the air from another point and always aimed precisely at the point that it could not possibly cover.The vortex took him high in the air and dropped him again from a great height. Screaming, he fell faster and faster to the ground, the vortex followed him and the sword was knocked out of his hand. It only took him 5 seconds to hit the ground without braking. Numerous wounds were inflicted on him within those 5 seconds. When he could open his eyes again, his entire body was covered in blood. He looked up, saw the vertebra a few millimeters from his head. The vortex didn't even give him time to scream.
"Vegeta? Are you all right?" Bulma looked at him worriedly. He straightened up with difficulty. In front of him was the Capsule Corp. , Bulma knelt next to him and Trunks and Son Goten stood a little further away. "Bu..Bulma?" "He's alive!" How? Is he alive? What happened anyway? Bulma turned around and called to her son: "Call an ambulance quickly." Vegeta looked at his arm. A gash stared at him. What happened?“Bulma?” A rush of blood shot out of his mouth and Bulma gently stroked his face. "Psst, my dearest Vegeta. Everything will be fine." She looked into his eyes. "Wait, I'll get a blanket. Stay awake, Vegeta. Please." Another helpless look, then she disappeared. Vegeta looked at the sky. It was early afternoon and it was snowing a little. There was a ladder above him. Had he fallen off the ladder? Something rustled in the elderberry bush behind him. With great difficulty he managed to fix his gaze there. There a little snow swirled up and down in a circular motion. And suddenly, right in front of him, snow began to blow up. The eddies, a dozen of them, rose into the air. They formed one word: DIE! Vegeta's eyes widened. The word blurred, but the eddies formed one word again: NOW!
END -----