Dragonball Z

"12 & 17"

Written by: Van Donovan


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"… happy birthday dear Marron-chan! Happy birthday to you!"
The now eighteen-year-old stood before a beautiful cake and as her friends and families voices faded with the end of the song, she took a breath, leaned forward, and blew out all eighteen of the gleaming candles. A cheer went up from the crowd as this signified Marron’s eighteenth birthday, and consequently she was now, in her friends and families eyes, an adult. This was a monumental day, and everyone was excited and filled with joy.
That is to say, everyone, except Pan.
She sat away from the cheering crowd, her back against the bark of a tall tree. She wore only her gray jeans, a black shirt and her shoes. She’d just recently decided to let her short hair grow out, and so it hung about chin length now, constantly in her way. Her blue eyes darted over to look at the table of happy people, and she exhaled, blowing a piece of hair up.
How could she be happy too? It just wasn’t fair! Why should age make you an adult?! Marron was six years her senior, but she knew she could lick her in a fight. She clenched her bare fists, and half whispered, half spat. "Che, eighteen."
She heard something nearby and looked about for its source. The family was still gushing over Marron as she opened her presents. No one noticed her as she stood up and walked towards the brush, easily slipping into its secretive hiding places. The crowd was instantly replaced by green foliage and silence. She elbowed her way through the brush and then came out the other side . . .
. . . faced to a pair of legs.
She almost yelped in shock, but then stepped back, and looked up and up, into the face of the man before her. He was scowling and she swallowed hard. He studied her in depth as she uncomfortably looked back up at him. She was paralyzed in shock.
The man, boy really, was quite beautiful. He had pale blue eyes, several shades lighter than her own, and long ebony black hair which was parted down the center and hung almost to his shoulders. His arms were crossed, but she could see the "R" of a logo on his black shirt. He also wore an orange scarf around his neck which complimented his eyes. His gray jeans and green socks offset his blue and white tennis shoes, but his face was so captivating, his feet really didn’t matter.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice cold, but not unpleasant. He seemed vaguely familiar, as if she knew him already.
"P-Pan," she answered, upset her voice betrayed her emotions. "Who’re you?" she added, a little more firmly.
The man smirked, twisting just one corner of his lips upward, but he didn’t answer. "How old are you?" he asked.
"Twelve." She replied, softly. He nodded.
"Juuni-Gou." He said to himself. Then aloud to her: "Are you here for her birthday, Pan?" he informally asked. Pan blinked.
"`Her’?", she questioned, and then nodded. "Yes." Then a little dejectedly. "It’s her eighteenth birth-,"
"I know how old she is!" he cut her off with a shout. Pan blinked a little at his fierceness.
After a moments more silence, she spoke again. "How, do you know her?" she questioned. Maybe he was Marron's ex-boyfriend, she’d certainly like a boyfriend like him. He looked like he could've been. He was awful handsome, she decided.
"Lets just say we’re related." He grunted.
"`Related’?!", she repeated, shocked. To who?! Certainly not to Kuririn. Juuhachi-Gou’s then? Definitely! That was the familiarity she’d sensed. He was related to Juuhachi-Gou then. But how? Certainly not siblings, he looked young enough to be her son. Maybe he was her son?! Pan opened her mouth to ask, but he began talking before she got it out.
"God, has it really be eighteen years?" he breathed. Pan’s jaw went slack, and she stared at him. "It’s been so long . . . but its been so slow. Just not long enough." He added. He stared out, past the bushes at something Pan couldn’t see. He paused, and then, as if sensing her confusion, he looked down at her, his icy blues eyes looking right into her. "I’m eighteen too, you know." he stated, not really expecting any reply.
For once, Pan didn’t feel jealous of him for being older than her. Something about him made her feel akin to him. Something in his words seemed to convey a double meaning to her. She softly said: "I wish I were eighteen too."
He blinked at her and she felt it were forced. Then he lifted his head and looked up and out again, at that vision he saw, which she could never see. "Um." He grunted. She felt as if he would opt to say more, but didn’t. She looked at her hands, then up at him.
"What’s it like? Being eighteen?" she questioned, unaware of the impact of that question could have on him. She knew that was definitely her one dream in life; to be eighteen and finally be an adult. He was quiet a while, then spat.
"Eternal." He paused, and then softly added, deep in thought. "Trapped in a body thats no longer a child, but not yet an adult, and no matter how hard you try to hide it . . . you’ll still always only be eighteen. Forever."
Pan was slightly dumbfounded. She swallowed, looking at him. He seemed strong and vital, but she also felt he was screaming inside. Instinctively she reached a hand out, and grasped his arm, near the wrist. It was cold to the touch. He lowered his eyes, looking down at her hand on his arm. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him. It’d probably been twenty years. Very faintly, he smiled at her, and his arms uncrossed as he turned to face her.
"Pan, you’re the first person I’ve talked to in years." he said, facing her. Then he squatted down, so the two were on eye level, something he’d never done for anyone before.
Pan smiled a little at this. Somehow it made her feel special. He reached a hand out and stroked her hair. It was soft to the touch. Not like his, which was smooth like silk, but it was still soft, and nice. He turned his hand over, so the back of his palm brushed her cheek gently. She stood stiffly as he did this. He was nice, but she couldn’t sense anything from him, and he was acting peculiar. She was ready for anything he might attempt to pull.
"You’re a lot like me." he stated, then frowned and stood up. Pan blinked at his change in attitude. His hands went to the back of his neck, and he untied the scarf there. Pan watched curiously as he straightened it out, and then moved behind her and put it on her head, like a hat, and tied it at the back so it was a covering bandanna. He stepped back, putting his thumbs in his pockets, the double "R" logo visible on his black shirt now.
He tilted his head, looking at her from a distance, and commented. "I’ll bet you’re exactly how I looked at twelve." Pan blinked and wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. He smiled again, and that lead her to believe it was good. Then he waved at her. "They’ll be waiting for you, so you’d better hurry back now."
Pan realized he was referring to Marron and the rest. She looked over her shoulder at the bushes, in the direction she’d come, and then heard him call out to her. "Mata ne!"
She turned her head at his voice, but he’d already vanished, with only the bandanna on her head proof he had ever even existed.

The End

Authors Notes: This is one of those spontaneous short-fics I get compelled to write. I hand wrote it in about an hour or two and then retyped it with minimal corrections. A few notes people might have.
Yes, I gave Pan blue eyes. She has blue eyes. In the Dragonball Z series, for her brief appearance, her eyes are blue. The cards of her as a child, they’re blue. TOEI, for some reason, made them black when she was reintroduced in Dragonball GT. I chose to keep them blue for this story.
The title, "12 & 17", came from a bizarre combination. If you haven’t guessed, the "boy" in this story is none other than Jinzouningen Juunana-Gou, or Cyborg 17, hence the 17. The 12 is derived from Pan’s age, and Juunana-Gou’s comment when he asks Pan her age, and he repeats it as: "Juuni-Gou." Number Twelve.
Lastly, this is a fun story for me, as Pan and Juunana-Gou are two of my favorite characters, and I’ve never seen them interact before. It sort of follows the lines of the "How Tapion gave Trunks his sword" story line, but with a difference twist. If this goes over well with my readers [lit. YOU] then I might write more slightly off this storyline. Hence "Mata ne".
Now, if you’ve got any comments, please send them to me at: van@asteri.net and thanks for reading!