Day Two: Evening

[Aero]

“So our ride together comes to an end, eh Cel?” Aero softly spoke as he held the saiyan in his arms (the shotgun he had acquired—taken—from Uno was tucked into the backside of his pants). “It was a hell of a ride, wasn’t it? We went through a lot fights together—took on two of the strongest competitors and lived to brag about it.” Blood soaked Celipa’s corpse, staining Aero’s own clothes, but he didn’t mind. She was his ally, she was loyal to him. “You were a good partner, babe, I tell ya that. Hell of a partner. I wouldn’t have traded our relationship for anything.” Uno had left a shotgun wound on back of his thigh, almost ripping his hamstring in two. It was painful, but for the time being Aero ignored the pain. It wasn’t adrenaline that helped him tolerate the injury, but rather his lack of focus on it.

Kirano looked from afar, his arms folded across his chest. His body was a silhouette in the dusking day, his shadow outstretching to the feet of Aero. He had left the battle unharmed; only injured by the fatigue of his transformation. The pistol was still in his hand, lingering off of a few fingers. He knew Celipa as well, but would say his farewell after Aero had his time alone with her. It was a part of Dante’s Abyss which he had learned earlier. You were going to lose friends, going to develop mistrust. None of it was personal or business. It was simply survival. Simply D.A.

Aero closed Celipa’s eyelids and trotted off with her a few steps. “Hey, look, I’m actually letting my guard down. Fuckin bastard, you’re turning me into a sobbing bitch. “ A lone tear ran down the side of his cheek. He was prepared for fighting, and prepared to meet his own maker; but nothing hurt him more than having another die while under his care. Bluntly, he had failed her. He tried not to think of her misfortune, but rather the struggles that brought them closer together. “Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be all right now.”

He laid her body down next to a rock which towered more than it bulked, and stared down at her. She had experienced a lot of pain throughout the competition—a bummed jaw, a lung wound, and a shot from the shotgun that he now had in his possession. Now it was time for her to rest—finally. That gave him slight pleasure, knowing that she would finally be all right. He wasn’t the type to feel emotional attachment—especially to females, which he often used simply for pussy and occasional head—but he had with her. Their joint venture was one that he cherished. Though he kept her safe the entire completion, he didn’t deem it as a tedious chore. He knew, now, that if he were in her position she’d have done the same. That brought him comfort. With a faint sigh he knelt down and took the fork from her stiffening grasp (rigor mortis was already beginning to take hold of her). He shoved it into his blood-stained pants, grabbing the shotgun from his back afterwards, slinging it over his shoulder.

He turned to look at Kirano, whose figure was becoming increasingly shaded by the approaching darkness that the sun had ceded to. “So, we haven’t really met,” he said, walking towards the fellow human. “I’m Aero.” He stuck out an open palm. Kirano put his pistol back into his pocket and shook Aero’s bloody hand. The pain from the gunshot wound was finally beginning to settle in. He grunted. The pain was that of a burning sensation. He was lucky that the shot was taken from such a long range. If he would have been closer Uno might have been able to take his entire leg off.

“Kirano,” he replied. The two stared at each other, not with trust or loyalty, but respect. Their relationship was nowhere near the strength of Aero’s and Celipa’s, but respect was something that they could offer each other. That was all that was necessary for their partnership. They were both aware that, at this point, their need for each other was now greatened.