Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Anaugust Gold ❯ 11 ( Chapter 11 )

"What is your second wish?" Shenlong boomed into the silence, and Vegeta turned around to face the others, removing his foot from the shattered medallion and kicking some shards of it into the dust, now muddy with blood.

 

"We are bringing Kakarotto back," Vegeta spoke loudly, his voice almost as booming as the dragon's even though he was not addressing it.

 

"Not with these dragon balls," Bulma spoke quietly, eyes still affixed to the body on the ground. Never had she witnessed such a violent death; but she had stood in silence, not fifty feet away, as Vegeta beat the mirror image of himself into the ground time and time again with a viciousness she had not witnessed from him in years. Vejata had resisted—with all she had in her, Bulma suspected—but the prince, so much stronger, brushed off most of her blows with little more than a snarl.

 

Vejata's final words had been too muted to hear from such a distance, but she had placed the medallion beside Vegeta as her body convulsed with pain, and then Vegeta had crushed it. The woman had stilled, head rolling to the side, eyes gracelessly half-open as the blood that had gathered in her ear and mouth dribbled out onto the ground. Bulma shivered and remembered the queen's gentle touch not an hour before, closeness and racing heart, but shook it off and rewound further to her discovery that Goku was dead, to her own nearly-threatened life, to the hijacking of the ship, and steeled her gaze as she turned her attention to Vegeta.

 

"Why's that?" Vegeta growled.

 

"After Son died fighting Raditsu," she explained, trying to keep a level head and averting her eyes from the slowly cooling battlefield, "when you first came to Earth, Shenlong brought Son back to life." It had been so long ago—to think that she hadn't known Vegeta then; he was another monster, a purveyor of genocide, a monumental threat. But after over a decade, she was sure he had found peace—well, until the crises stirred up by Vejata. "And Shenlong won't grant the same wish twice."

 

The dragon snorted in response to this, as if daring them to challenge him on this point.

 

"We need to go to New Namek to bring Son back," Bulma elaborated.

 

"I'm sure Shenlong can do that for you," Piccolo suggested, stepping forward after glancing briefly at the queen's body. "Since none of us can teleport. Otherwise, of course, you will need to get back into that ship," he nodded toward it, far off to the side and largely undamaged by the battle.

 

"We will use the wish," Vegeta demanded, and as he mentally composed its phrasing he glanced toward his son for the first time since the beginning of the battle. The boy had moved since then—was more distantly placed, nearer the dragon balls. Goten was there, too, beside him, illuminated by the glow of the spheres and leaving only patches of light to land upon Trunks' form—dark and shadowy in the night, and even more so beneath the storm clouds Shenlong brought. Goten lay one hand on Trunks' shoulder, speaking quietly as his head tilted down. Trunks nodded, sniffling and trying to ignore the moisture that gathered at the corners of his eyes.

 

Piccolo followed Vegeta's gaze toward the two, but unlike the Saiyajin, he could hear the words they spoke.

 

"Trunks..." Goten muttered, patting his friend's shoulder. "It's...it's okay..."

 

"No it's not," he whispered, madly rubbing at his eyes. "I...I can't believe..." Trunks shivered and glanced back toward Vejata's body, and then to his father. "He's just like them."

 

"He's not," Goten protested urgently, leaning forward to look the other boy in the eye, and the light from the dragon balls burst onto Trunks' face, revealing the red around his eyes and the watery glaze over them. "This was different," but his voice quivered, "R-right?" He bit his lip, having doubted his words from the start.

 

"It could have been quick," Trunks rasped, lifting his right arm, the one that had been torn away from him in his dying moment not so long ago, into the light and pressing his eyes shut. Goten took it gently in his hands and pulled it to himself, hoping the contact would calm his friend. "But it wasn't. He didn't...he..."

 

"I know," Goten murmured, and he pulled Trunks closer.

 

Piccolo turned his attention back to Vegeta, who seemed to have caught on to the subject of their conversation and turned away from the boys, hiding a wounded expression. The Namekian had met his own violent death by the hands of one of the copies of Vegeta, much like Trunks and Goten. From Goku's word he knew Vejata's treatment of the strongest Saiyajin ever to live had been vicious in a different way. The prince-now-king—no, prince, for had he not destroyed his peoples' way of marking their ruler?—had his own share of killings beneath his belt, surely a portion of them as unnecessarily drawn out and cruel as this one. The Saiyajin's son, perhaps, had not known this, and with a shiver Piccolo acknowledged the boy's insight. Perhaps he had a reason to be so afraid, so saddened, so disgusted. Perhaps there was some undoable evil in the prince.

 

The Namekian tread up to the boys, and nodded to each of them knowingly. "Are you coming to New Namek to wish Son back with us?" They glanced at each other and nodded. "Shenlong!" Piccolo shouted up to the dragon, "Take Vegeta, Bulma, Goten, Trunks and I to New Namek!"

 

"About time," the dragon seemed to grumble. "It shall be done." His eyes glowed, and they were gone.

 

 

...

 

 

"Sorry," Piccolo gave Muuri an apologetic shrug as another Namekian carried out the last of the dragon balls. "I know it wasn't so long ago that my friends and I were wished back, but Son Goku was killed again."

 

Muuri nodded. "I hope there are no such pressing evils in the universe as last time?"

 

"No," Piccolo shook his head.

 

"We are glad to help you revive Goku. He's done so much for us, after all." He turned to the spheres, and at his command Porunga burst forth.

 

"What is your wish?" his voice echoed, and Muuri shouted up to the dragon in the Namekian tongue. "Son Goku? Again, eh?" Porunga seemed to chuckle, deep voice causing the ground to rumble beneath him as he did. "All right. Easy enough. It is done."

 

"Bring him here," Vegeta told Muuri, who repeated the wish to the dragon.

 

"Nonsense," Porunga seemed to grin. "He is on his way."

 

Indeed, Goku appeared a split-second later, and lowered his fingers from his forehead. "Thanks, guys," he spoke more quietly than any had been expecting of him.

 

Vegeta stepped forward, and, closing his eyes, held one hand out to Goku. "My words were foolish," he said simply, and Goku grabbed at his still-ungloved hand, tightening his grip on it and letting go quickly.

 

"It's all right, Vegeta," he smiled slightly. "Everything's better now." Goku glanced over the group, nodding to each of his friends. "Where's Vejata?"

 

"Dead," the prince answered quietly.

 

"R...really?" Goku blinked, and Vegeta noted the unbearable neutrality of his features.

 

"I killed her, no more than half an hour ago," he answered, equally neutrally. "For what she did to you. And to me."

 

"I..." the Saiyajin glanced over at his other friends; Bulma, Trunks, and Goten seemed confused, and he realized that both Piccolo and Vegeta must have kept quiet about the details, or perhaps had no chance to pass them on. "Thanks for...for the thought."

 

"We still have two more wishes," Bulma spoke quietly, unable to decipher Goku's uncharacteristic dispassion. "We can bring her back..."

 

Goku glanced up to Porunga, raising his eyebrows, and then turned his attention first to Vegeta, and then to Piccolo, Bulma, Trunks, and Goten. "I..." he started, and felt his throat dry up uncomfortably. "I, er...guys...it's a long story...I..."

 

"It's okay," Bulma answered softly. Piccolo nodded, and Trunks' eyes were downcast; Goten glanced at his friend in concern. Bulma bit her lip. "Really, Son."

 

He turned his eyes to Vegeta, who returned a solemn stare of his own, nodding. "You know my feelings on the matter, I think." Goku noted the flakes of blood that had caked beneath Vegeta's fingernails, his stained palms.

 

Exhaling resolutely, Goku turned to Muuri. "We don't need the other two wishes. Thanks, friend."

 

Muuri nodded. "Have a safe journey home."

 

Goku nodded to the others, who gathered around him and laid their hands against his shoulders and arms. He raised two fingers to his forehead. "Will do."

 

And they were gone.

 

 

 

...

END