Wounded Warrior
by Renpouinn     More by this Artist
I hissed through clenched teeth as Gohan removed the strips of cloth. The makeshift bandages had held closed a nasty gash on my side and Gohan’s brow furrowed with concern. The cut was not shallow, beginning on the ribs under my right arm and tracing a steadily shallower line down and around, until it ended near my navel. It stung something terrible, but I tried not to flinch. Gohan was trying to help.

Gohan and I were in the lounge room – I was sitting on the table as he tended my injuries. Luckily, he had not been severely hurt in the battle, for which I thanked whatever gods there were. The androids had already destroyed most of Planet Earth, but my world would be nothing if I lost Gohan.

The black-haired half-Saiyan treating my wounds was my best friend in the whole world. He meant everything to me: he was like the big brother I never had. Gohan had started training me at the age of fourteen, and now, three years later, I was almost as strong as he was – that is, when he wasn’t a Super Saiyan.
Illustration for the story :

No Leaf Clover No Leaf Clover
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