[Forever indebted](Complete)

[Rensou Hiruen]

He looked at the fields
And then his hands
“All I need is what I have,”
Then shed a tear of happiness~

The compound was lifeless, and the lights burned not. Payment had not changed hands, and accounted for that, at least. As for the lack of livelihood in such a sprawling complex of greed and filth, a tiny spark shimmered within the confines of the walls housing the mansion and its pool. The miniscule flash was to be held guilty for everything. . .lack of host and his audience, the temperature inside the same as that felt outside. Rensou Hiruen owned this place now, this compound of a man he had slain and nearly been slain for in retribution, but he had rallied up against those whom would destroy him with beloved comrade and won much. The gladiator had lost so much more.

Bare toes rippled the waters of the pool as the last of a clan rested upon the edge, seated. The man was naked in his solitude, but Saiyan culture was coarse and if another of his specie were to arrive upon him at any moment they would find him without shame for his state. That very feeling had already consumed him, had he truly done what he could have for the fallen? Hindsight always swayed subjects too far in the favor of whichever end of the spectrum a person chose, and in this very passage of time, Rensou had opted for the opinion that he could have prevented the fall of his brother.

Disgust filled him from the core outward, manifesting itself as anger about his prone body in shivering swirls of green and blue, intermingling and spraying the water from the pool in billowing sheets of aqua. Irony was abundant that a Saiyan could feel such hatred for himself in payment for the loss of one held dear, a comrade whom would have given his life in but a moment to save Rensou's own. I could have weathered what killed him, the grieving man mused. The dance about his form halted suddenly as his eyes stared outward, an ultimatum reached.

The form of the last Hiruen slid without effort into the chaotic waters of the pool. Onyx locks waved with the waves, dark eyes were shut tightly as Rensou tried to blot out every urge and thought to cross a mentality scarred with the physicality. The faces of the men and women he had eradicated haunted him less than one he had not, why!? Were he not a Saiyan. . .cold, heartless, and brutal!? Even within the bleakest soul burns a beating heart, no matter how black. Notions of becoming a legendary warrior were wiped away, amongst other things.

Such as, and most importantly, the will to draw oxygen. Thirty seconds passed by, and Rensou Hiruen was dead within. Blood still thundered through him, quickening as his organs began to yearn for air as the time stretched into a minute. Seconds crossed the clock-face, and the time had doubled. Eyes flashed open as the urgings of the body contended against steadfast will in an effort to destroy both. The throat retched in reflex and water permeated the tissues of lung beneath the skin and pectoral and thorax, and then the second reflex went off in tandem. The legs kicked.

The face broke the waters and the mouth clawed greedily for lifegiving air, and the lungs spewed forth the ingested water and chlorine, muscled arms supporting the body operating of a separate agenda, for the heart still yearned from release for all this weight. This overbearing strain on the mentality.

Suicide had been exhausted as a viable option, the will to live burning within Rensou Hiruen was much too strong. There was but one choice, to train until no one could ever destroy what he held dear to himself. His comrades. His conquest. The weary soul must stride onward through struggle and become a legend, an immortal forever upon the tongue of the awestruck, a tremble within the spine of the fearful.

Hungry for power, Rensou Hiruen had always been. . .starving to defend what he deemed important, never. Emotionless he struggled from the pool, water slipping off his body as he stalked the short distance to the entrance of the abandoned mansion. It was not long before he had arrived in one of the many beds, and was sound asleep shortly. This night would be one free of nightmare, as would the following. Debts are forgiven when one is willing to repay.

[Rensou Hiruen]

Dual stars rose to illuminate the cityscape of the capitol, streets bustled with activity and life, both Saiyan and otherworldly. Within the walls of a compound formerly owned by a great but terrible man, a single pair of dark orbs flitted open. It were not a moment before the body was aroused and ready, clothing sheathing the muscular physique and a grim expression plastered upon the features, a face criss-crossed with imperfections that told the saga of a hundred battles before hungry bastards craving his blood upon the whitened tiles of the arena!

Food was ingested, the motions quick and precise as Rensou prepared his fuel within the vastness of Hunni's dining facilities, bills were paid to renew the temperatures within the refrigeration unit and provide the man with comfortable rest when his tasks had been completed for the days ahead. Great things faced those who rose up against the whims of normality, and once Rensou Hiruen had ascended to pinnacles atop pinnacles, he would stand strong and weather any storm lathered against a warrior hardened by determination and discipline.

Hunni's facilities were crude, but effective none-the-less. The place within the compound only known as the “pit” was a barbaric hole in the Vegetan ground, strained with the blood of the men Hunni had formerly employed with lethal efficiency in the Saru games. Now, the bore witness to the redoubled efforts of a man striving to become the best, just as he always had, but now with renewed purpose!

A bag was slung over the shoulder, the bent arm holding the thing filled with vein and shaking with exertion. With a simple release of the fingers it smashed into packed ground, compacting it into a solidified mass under astonishing weight. Rensou chuckled as he knelt to pull those beloved weights out and onto himself, first his wrists and then his ankles. The time to begin was now, and when those suns blaring down upon flesh wet with sweat had sunk beneath the horizon, then he would halt.

Feet immediately went into action in conjunction with leg as the man propelled himself within the circle, his speeds imperceptible to untrained senses as each thundering step left a deep impression of his boot. The muscles within those powerful appendages lengthened and shortened as more muscle beneath that acted as a piston, pushing as the other pulled and vice-versa. The result was a morning stretch, quickening the heart rate and preparing the body for the rigors it would undergo.

Momentum halted as planted feet slid to a stop at the rusted but operational weight training systems, but Rensou certainly had something more classical in mind. With a resolve to sprint rather than walk for the remainder of the session, he skidded to a second stop as the weight bench before he increased the payload with each and every weight he could apply. With another roll of laughter, he slid under the bar to accept it graciously with both hands.

The face contorted grotesquely as he pushed the amount up and off the supports, letting it fall to his chest where it landed with a thud. In addition to the pull already upon his wrists, his arms now had this gargantuan weight to contend with. Rensou set himself to the task with an enthusiasm only a Saiyan could muster, with muscle rippling beneath his hide with each and every repetition. Palms were slickened by sweat, testing his gripping strength. Forearms were pushed, struggling to not crush his chest beneath the bar as it lowered it again and again. Most importantly, his biceps vibrated with exertion as he groaned out his efforts with upward motion, again, and again, and again until he could bear it no longer. The weights took their rightful place atop the supports as the hundredth press was completed.

Only an hour had passed him by, Rensou Hiruen resolved himself to not pace himself so for the rest of the day. This day, limits must be pushed beyond the measure of sanity.

[Rensou Hiruen]

The week had passed him by without incident. No more thugs came to carry him away to repent for his alleged crimes against the elite of Saru's slums, perhaps he and Raizon had slain them all? They had certainly destroyed their will to continue pursuit of the duo that had once been a trio. That was the reasoning behind Rensou's renewed fervor in his training efforts, and for an entire week he had become a thing of constants. In the morn when first light rose, he would as well. The Saiyan would eat a breakfast before venturing into the Pit, where he had once served as a trainer to an array of Gladiator from all walks of life.

Now, they were all gone. Many had went to work under other men like Hunni himself, and those that had been slaves were suddenly free men. It was probable they would continue fighting in the arena, as that was all many of them had known. . .but now they fought for themselves rather than a man who cared nothing if they reigned victorious or crumbled in defeat.

To fight for another was demeaning, to fight for oneself uninhibiting, but the man whom had trained his body to a powerhouse this past week fought for himself; ideals and beliefs. . .and for others, now that he had lost beloved friend, though it was unclear to Rensou if he would have been capable of saving that life, the fact was that he could have done nothing to prevent the fall of Laiz. Nonetheless, he held himself responsible, after all, it was he whom had slain Hunni in effort to free Laiz. The former slave had been a free man for days, but imprisoned for years.

“Better to die in liberation than live in chains,” Rensou decided as he stepped into the showers to wash the residue of his final day of training off his hardened body. In the span of time he had devoted to pushing towards greatness, he had expanded the ability of his muscles. . .the kicks he had thought perfected were now devastating strikes that could cleave a man's head from his neck or simply crush the skull to bits. Punches were capable of lifting a warrior from their feet and leave them with crushed rib and damaged organs, devoid of fueling breath.

Chiseled legs were now capable of standing indefinitely, and running impossible distances at greater speeds than the last Hiruen had ever known. His defensive movements were flawless. If an attack was perceived within an allotted period of time, he was capable of evading an attack altogether. . .in addition to that, movement and striking drills had instilled within him the ability to counterattack ferociously and without forethought. There were a multitude of scenarios in which Rensou Hiruen could capitalize on a mistake and make the one whom which made that error pay dearly. A realization that they were fighting no mere warrior would strike anyone whom chose to stand against the former champion at this point.

If Rensou Hiruen could attain such physical and strategical heights, there were most certainly enemies to stand against whom stood upon the same platform as he. There would always be those whom seemed to be untouchable, a warrior among warriors to strike him down as if he were nothing. Rensou would always have comrades at his side that he would defend against even the worst of odds, and he would never see another fall whilst he still stood upon those two feet below him as the warm waters of the shower ran over his aching body. Certainly, there would always be challenges to overcome and with that in mind Rensou Hiruen pushed onward, past his limits to create another limit, only to strike that one down as well no matter what means it took! The Saiyan may be without morals, some may consider him evil, but he was set upon his purposes and that was beyond the scope of good and bad.

Rensou Hiruen trained. Harder than any before him, and still he would continue to do so until he drew his last breath.

[Gray Callahan]

1750 PL rewarded