Fate Has A Funny Way Of Working [Kohlrabi/Invite]

Oh how does fate have a funny way of operating within one's life. Kinnojo's life has been full of nothing but those events happening, however uneventful that they may be, they still happen. It's been ten years since he has saw his father. As the bastard left him and his mother to fend for their own. What a selfish thing to do. You create a child you have an duty, no an obligation to that child. You created them. You raise them. You nurture them. As Saiyans we are an progressive race. A race that needs guidance. That was your teachings. How could I forget? You left my mother alone. A woman can't raise a man to be a man. The thoughts raced in his mind, at a fever pitch so to speak. One that never stopped. As Kinnojoro's body hovered in the air, suspended in flight with ease. His body colliding with the forces of gravity making his clothes ruffle in the wind, his hair whipped violently from the velocity of the wind. His grey scouter with it's red screen positioned over his right eye remained empty and devoid of any markers of life. His white collared sleeveless shirt clung to him from the force of his flight, his brown furry tail wrapped around his waist tightly, his arms at his side as he he positioned his body for light aerodynamics, a learned trait surely. 


The wrist of his felt heavier of course, the heaviest metal in the world adjusted into heavy weights around his right and left wrist in the color of white. He needed to adjust his body better to force. It made flying more alittle slower than he'd like, but it was worthwhile training. He ate, slept and did just about every task he could while wearing those weights of course. It was all for one singular purpose. Strength. Power. Because one day he is gonna see his father again. And, that day he relish. The day he is living for. His father will answer for why he did what he did. The feeling started happening again, The sinking feeling of something he disliked in general, bred in his heart. Hatred. The single thing that went against every single fiber of his being beckoned at his heart. The strings of that emotion were so strong that it made him question his morals. Was it okay to feel this way? Yes, it is. No, it isn’t. An internal battle he had with himself daily. That was the feeling his father created. It made his heart hurt, it made his soul burn. It created a need, a need he couldn't quite put his finger on yet. He hated this feeling, but it was fuel for a fire burning deep within him. Around him, was nothing but wasteland. The area he is seeing he never saw before, which broke his concentration of his thoughts to start surveying the area. It looked as if it had been scorched, the tree life here is non-existent unlike other places he has seen on Namek. Which is ripe with fresh deep green grass and trees. Good air quality, this place had no green, no trees. Just brown dirt, torn up ground with dark marks. Broken trees which seem dead, the roots cooked alive perhaps? It was an eyesore. This is the causality of war and battles. It was then that the red tint of his scouter screen started to flicker on, the yellowish numbers blinking in his eyes, numbers shifting among different numbers, as the numbers started to slow setting on the number 36,461, with a loud beep from it's speaker. Kinnojo showed no emotion to the number as he slowed his flight to an erupt stop, the force of his body's shift to a complete jolting his insides around which is unsettling but something you get used to after doing it over a long period of time. His eyes scanned the area as the number stay lit up, though he saw no one, as of yet.  


Starting PL:
2,270

PL Because Of Katchin Wrist Weights [50% 25% Gain]

1,135