Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ As Loyalty Can Be ❯ Vegeta takes a break ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own dbz

 

Title: As Loyalty Can Be

 

(1)

In 700 times Earth's gravity, Vegeta moved through the patterns of combat.

Punches cut the heavy air with hissing sounds. A roundhouse kick, every muscle in his body straining. Sweat dripped from a tapered chin; sweat getting into eyes and stinging his cuts and burns.

It had been at least two weeks since Buu, perhaps more. He had been at it all through the night, losing all track of time, disregarding his bone-deep fatigue, pressing, demanding, and cursing the limit. As always, the drive to get stronger drove him to this point. And yet...something was different. Something had changed.

 

700 times gravity, seven years of training hadn't gotten him there. Seven years of chasing ghosts, of chasing those two that had always been stronger. Those two. Frieza… and Kakarott.

Bang! Vegeta fell to his hands and knees, landing hard and hurting like hell. In this kind of gravity, every movement had to be completely controlled. One wrong step could twist ankles, tear muscles, or smash bone. The image of his kneecaps popping like hard-boiled eggs, thrown to the floor went through his head. It was sickening. But it was not that bad, not this time. He would get some bruises, though, that was for sure. He snorted, scabbed knees. Whining over scabbed knees. So weak.

It was not fatigue that had made him fall, not entirely. It was a thought, so unwelcome and new. Frieza. Kakarott. Damn. Some sort of realization had felled him to his knees.

Why this introspection, suddenly? It was not like he was in the habit of questioning his own motives. Oh, he avoided going there. But come again. Evasion was not dignified. So what about Kakarott?

How he had wanted to beat him. How he had dreamed about crushing that big, smiling, infuriating dolt under his fists. Hated him, he really hated him. And Frieza? The same. Exactly the same.

A hot exhalation, the air almost scalding his lips.

Too much the same.

He sank down until his forehead rested on his hands. Hot thoughts.

Could it be... no... that didn't make sense. How could... but it did. It felt true. Frieza had... he had... never mind that. Kakarott had filled his place. That was it. In the same spot that Frieza had vacated he had placed Kakarott. The focus point of his hate and anger, the pillar of stone against which he ceaselessly broke the waves of his rage.

A small groan made it through his clenched teeth. How degrading.

Like he needed someone to take Frieza's place. Like he needed someone to hate, to focus the anger, to feed the rage. Like he couldn't live without it.

Like he was hiding.

But he didn't hate Kakarott anymore, did he? The thought came slowly and reluctantly, but he did not push it aside. Seven years of training, and when he finally had come face to face with Kakarott, it had all fallen down to shambles. First it had been the fusion, leaving him with sketchy memories of the time they spent together in that fashion, and yet with the most disconcerting feelings of... brightness... and serenity… peacefulness, of all things.

He had found himself rooting Kakarott on as he was fighting Buu. Openly and without resentment he had acknowledged Kakarott's strength and skill, giving him a nod and a smile. The widening of his eyes and the incredulous fall of the other fighter's chin had been sweet, a sort of victory. In the end they had worked together with a sense of camaraderie.

Camaraderie. It was so strange, so unfamiliar, that he had to struggle to come up with a word for it.

Breathing hard, head spinning, Vegeta got to his feet. With measured steps he walked to the controls, disdaining his smarting knees. With the touch of a button, the pressure disappeared. 1 g. It felt like weightlessness. Breathing and heartbeat had suddenly become effortless.

700 times gravity, seven years of training and hating hadn't gotten him there. No, it was the fighting, the dying, and the way his body healed stronger after every beating.

It was all so strange, really. Everything was new. He had been dead, and so had Kakarott, and Bulma, as well as her motley group of friends. This room, the planet itself, had been nothing but dust, and now everything was resuming as if nothing had happened… just a small interruption, instantly Dragon-fixed. In fact, right now Bulma was having a party, inviting the same motley crowd to share her food and each other's company.

Bulma hadn't been surprised when he said that he wouldn't join them. A distracted nod had been her only response. No one expected him anyway, their lives resuming as if nothing had happened. As if nothing had changed.

But he had been reborn.

Something had changed. He was trying to train, but his usual drive... it was missing… or redirected. Certainly something was different. The confusing thoughts kept rising up to the surface of his consciousness, refusing to be ignored.

Wiping the back of his hand across his upper lip, he admitted to something else: He longed for some company.

Bulma's friends had never been his. Of course he couldn't just... go out there and be friendly. Those people that he had sneered at and stared at and hadn't shown anything but antagonism. Talk about a turnabout. It would never work.

Kakarott would be there.

Nervous. He was suddenly nervous, and it was then that he knew that he had decided. He would go out there, surprising them all.

Some warmth in company... He was alarmed to notice that the thought of it made his throat tighten. He had been alone for so long.

And yet... he did not belong. The memory of their furtive glances and lowered voices were all too vivid. He scowled at himself. So? He certainly would not try to pretend that he was one of them. But he would... he would make some sort of an effort.

He would not deny that things had changed. Here and now there was nothing to fight, and he refused to let old ghosts dictate him anymore.

Besides, he thought as he opened the door to the Gravity Camber, all that anger was undignified anyway.