Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Black and White ❯ 04 ( Chapter 4 )

"Vegeta? You sure you're ready to leave, y'know, now?" Goku scratched his head as the man returned, walking with resolve in his step. "I mean, this is like the sorta thing—"

 

"That you would do," he huffed, leaning against the wall. "I know. Look, Kakarrot, you already promised to bring me back the instant I want to leave, and I know you better than to think you'd betray my," he paused, and grumbled, glancing downward, "trust."

 

"Naw," Goku grinned. "No way I would." His face grew more solemn. "'Specially not now I know the feeling so much myself."

 

"I don't want to be stranded there again."

 

"You won't be."

 

"And Kakarrot?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Don't say or do anything—" he lowered his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth until he was glaring.

 

"Vegeta, 's all fine. Don't worry. I never woulda before, but I'll remind y' again now; I think I kinda know the feeling. I won't do nothin' you don't want, all right?" He blinked to find Vegeta's hand against his shoulder, and raised his eyebrows, confused.

 

"Well?" Vegeta snapped. "Are we going, or aren't we?"

 

Goku grinned, nodding vigorously. "Yeah! I think I can find a ki there..." he focused for one second, two, and then they disappeared.

 

 

...

 

 

"Shit!" the boy leapt back, and as he gazed upon Goku, he leapt back even farther. "Y-you again?" he stuttered, legs spread awkwardly as he attempted to take a defensive stance and simultaneously scoot away from the area. "You get the hell away from me!" his voice cracked as he spoke. "Super Saiyajin!"

 

"Whoa," Goku threw his hands out to the sides. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I didn't last time, did I?"

 

The boy shook his head, but his legs shook with it, and he bolted down the unpaved pathway that stretched farther into the town beside which they had appeared.

 

Vegeta raised his eyebrows. "What did you do?"

 

"Went Super Saiyajin," Goku shrugged.

 

"And they're scared of it," Vegeta mumbled, reminding himself. "Because of their fucked-up queen."

 

"Well," Goku crossed his arms. "She ain't their queen now, and it's about time I teach them t' not be afraid of it." He glanced around the area. "Thing is, I dunno where to start." He rocked back and forth on his feet, trying not to arouse alarm as other Saiyajin meandered past, carrying dead animals and brush and other things Goku could not identify over their shoulders. Each glanced at him momentarily, to see if they could guess at why the young man had run off. Most seemed to shrug it off after a moment; the gazes of a few lingered. Perhaps they had seen him before, when he had turned Super Saiyajin in the middle of their village.

 

"May I suggest," Vegeta started, and Goku turned his eyes to him, "you spend a while seeing what they normally do?" Goku tilted his head, waiting for an explanation. "And perhaps you can convince them that you're like them," his brows lowered, "and not like Vejata."

 

"Oh, yeah!" Goku nodded, but paused as Vegeta made as if to turn away. "What're you doing? Aren't you coming with me?"

 

"No," he shook his head. "I have a few things I want to take care of first."

 

"Yeah?"

 

Vegeta nodded. "Among them, I think these people should know that their queen is dead."

 

"Are you gonna tell 'em you killed her?"

 

He shook his head. "No. They'll likely try to make me their ruler. Besides, I was supposed to be this whole time anyway." Goku seemed to consider this. "I think they'd best start again."

 

"And pick a new king?" Goku guessed.

 

Vegeta nodded, and he smirked a little. "Maybe a king—for now."

 

"What?"

 

"You'll see."

 

Goku pouted, sticking his tongue out. "That's not fair."

 

"Is too," Vegeta turned his nose into the air. "Now go. Find your students, or whatever," he waved his hand, continuing nonchalantly, "become a true Saiyajin, and so on." He spun on his heel to leave.

 

"Vegeta?"

 

"What now?"

 

He could nearly feel Goku's grin radiating from him. "Y' talk like you're not so Saiyajin yourself."

 

"You talk like it surprises you," he answered quietly, not turning to face him, "after all my time on Earth."

 

"Guess that only makes sense," Goku answered, imitating Vegeta's tone. "Knowin' how since I've known you so long I ain't entirely human."

 

He smirked a little. "Were you ever?"

 

"Well," the man's voice seemed thoughtful, "your planet got blown up when you were real young, an' all. So then were you ever really Saiyajin?"

 

"For a while," he answered softly, and drifted into the air. "Now get going."

 

 

...

 

 

The entrance to the castle was surprisingly quiet, and Vegeta wondered if no one had stepped up to take Vejata's place. Likely they assumed her temporarily gone, even though it had been months; then again, he supposed, it was equally likely that they may have been afraid to take over, knowing that her return would mean their death. A Saiyajin who was loitering nearby, glancing over the building, froze at the sight of Vegeta, but before he could run, Vegeta was gripping him by the scruff of his neck. "Hey," he spoke, and the Saiyajin's eyebrows shot up at the unexpectedly deep pitch. "I'd like to ask you a favor."

 

"A-a-a-are you related to the Queen?"

 

He paused for a moment. "Yes. Isn't it obvious? But that's not important. She's dead."

 

"Did you kill her?" he struggled against Vegeta's grasp, but the man did not set him down.

 

"No," he answered firmly. "I only know that she is no more."

 

"You...sure?"

 

"Certain. Now, as I said, I'd like to ask you a favor." The man nodded. "Go tell all your friends, and tell them to tell their friends—that Queen Vegeta is dead, and gone for good."

 

"Who's the new ruler?"

 

"Decide amongst yourselves," Vegeta dropped him. "But leave me out of it."

 

"Wait!" the man shouted after the prince. "Wait! Are you—are you—Prince Vegeta?"

 

Vegeta bit his lip, crossing his arms as he thought quickly. "Don't be foolish. I'm his brother." The man seemed doubtful, and so after further thought, he added, "My father shipped me to a distant system when I was young—he was ashamed of my weakness, compared to my brother."

 

"O-oh," the Saiyajin nodded. "Oh. Okay. So—"

 

"So pick your own damn ruler; I'm not ready to die."

 

The man nodded vigorously, and ran down what seemed to be a once-beaten path to the nearest village, tail waving madly behind him as he sprinted.

 

 

...

 

 

Now that he was alone, the atmosphere pressed unease into Goku's body. The villages looked familiar enough; it had not been so long since he had flown over them. As before, Saiyajin wrestled in the streets, flew from place to place, held what he hoped were merely sparring matches in some of the open plains. But Goku knew—knew he would have to visit one more familiar place before this unease would leave him. He had decided to come here, but hadn't known the memory would press at him so persistently; Goku feared that if he attempted to approach the other Saiyajin now, he might act in some way he wouldn't ordinarily, might be—mean, or at least too impatient or too confused. The fog of stubborn hatred that the wind wouldn't blow away hovered just over his heart, and he knew that he would have to think about it again—to wonder and consider.

 

Most frighteningly, he knew that even after all of that, there was the possibility that he would have to accept his present state as his future one: not all-forgiving, anymore; haunted by an act that was marked by his death, and all so sudden that at times it took effort to remember that it wasn't a dream.

 

He had sensed Vegeta there earlier, but the man had left relatively quickly—perhaps he had avoided the area. But Goku knew he had to visit the place where his heart felt betrayal.

 

 

...

 

 

Vegeta rapped on the door, tapping his foot impatiently. He couldn't remember the Saiyajin custom for entering homes—never really did so, as a child, in his limited time on his home planet. Usually doors were opened for him before he even reached them; people expected him. More likely, he supposed, they expected his father, and he was simply along to learn, but—to a child, the difference was blurry.

 

"Whaddaya want?" a young voice demanded from behind the still-closed door.

 

"Open the door," Vegeta imitated the demanding tone, smirking a little. He was right in believing it was this ki; he had been concerned that his memory on the matter was too fuzzy and that this was just some similar Saiyajin. The voice, however, told him otherwise.

 

It swung open to reveal a familiar girl, arms crossed and lips drawn into a sneer. When she locked eyes with Vegeta, however, she jumped, and then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Ain't you the prince Vegeta?"

 

"So you remember me," Vegeta's smirk grew. "Good."

 

"Y'know, you said Queen Vegeta wouldn't come back, an' you know what? You were right. She never did. Did you kill her?"

 

Vegeta glanced around. "Is anyone else here right now?" The girl shook her head, and Vegeta bent his knees so that he was at eye-level with her. "All right," he set one hand on her shoulder. She frowned, but let it stay there. "I'm going to tell you something, but you cannot tell anyone else."

 

"A secret?" her eyes widened a bit.

 

"Most definitely. The answer to your question is yes—I did."

 

"So you're the king!"

 

Vegeta shook his head, and holding one finger above his mouth to indicate that she should quiet down about it. "I don't want to be," he muttered. "I have a different home now, and I think the last thing your planet needs right now is another Vegeta in charge." His somber tone sucked the girl's excited smirk away, and she nodded slowly. "So you'll have a new ruler."

 

"My dad woulda been—"

 

"Yes," Vegeta nodded, "you told me, when we first met." As he glanced over her oddly familiar features, Vegeta decided he could afford a brief diversion from his intended track of conversation. "Say, who was your father?"

 

"Um," she was suddenly less tough, tail floating ambivalently behind her. "His name was Ch-Choy."

 

Vegeta mulled over this. "Sounds familiar," he finally spoke.

 

"Did you know 'im?"

 

The prince shook his head. "I don't believe so. Do you happen to know—anything about his parents?"

 

"Well," she rocked back and forth on her feet for a while, "A little bit. Hey," she suddenly glared at him, "stop bending down like y' need to be my height for me to understand you. Come in an' sit or something." Blowing him a raspberry, she turned on her heel and marched inside. "Shut the door behind you!"

 

Vegeta did so, and evaluated his surroundings with mild surprise. He wondered if the elite Saiyajin who had survived were now living in a way that much more resembled the lifestyle of the lower-class Saiyajin than they ever would have imagined. Much of the furniture was little more than solid blocks of rock or other materials, with the furs of the local wildlife thrown over them. It made sense, he supposed, for a people who concerned themselves mainly with fighting and eating—especially now, perhaps little status was associated with fancy furniture.

 

"So do you wanna hear about my grandpa or not?"

 

"Of course," Vegeta took a seat.

 

"Well, none a' the stupid neighbors like hearing this story 'cause they think we're a bunch of liars, but it's not true. I mean, it is true—the story. I got told it by my parents, an', well, an' they knew my grandpa for a bit, of course, so I believe 'em." She paused, frowning and wiping at her eyes unassumingly. "Mom kinda stopped telling it after Queen Vegeta killed Daddy, but I remember it pretty good."

 

Vegeta bowed his head slightly. "Well, I'll believe you."

 

She nodded, and perked up as she began to speak. "Well, my grandpa was an elite, 'course, but he didn't get to come here with some a' the others, 'cause I guess 'cause everyone was pretty sure that the one guy, the ice—"

 

"Freeza," Vegeta spat.

 

"That the ice bastard," she amended, at hearing his tone of voice, "would notice that he was gone. He must a' been important," she mused. "An' he was pretty damn strong." Vegeta chuckled, and she crossed her arms defensively. "What? What now?"

 

Vegeta shook his head. "You speak like my son," he noted with amusement. "My mate would say, 'too much swearing for someone so young.'" He laughed a little more. "She's one to talk."

 

The girl shrugged. "I don't see nothin' wrong with it."

 

"No," Vegeta agreed.

 

"Anyway, my grandpa was real strong."

 

"All right."

 

"He was doing stuff for, uh," she paused, and held her hand up when Vegeta opened his mouth, "Freeza, when the planet got blown up."

 

Vegeta nodded. "As was I."

 

"Yeah. He was—" she paused "—hold on, hold on—sh—shoot, he was takin' care of you!"

 

The prince's eyebrows shot up. "N-Nappa?"

 

"Thassa one! Nappa, Nappa, Nappa was my grandpa I never met! You knew him!"

 

"I did," Vegeta nodded.

 

"He ain't—he ain't still alive?" she sounded hopeful, leaning closer to Vegeta.

 

"No," he breathed. "No, he's not. He died some time ago."

 

"Do you know how? You do, right? He was always with you, right? Tha' was his job, yeah, that's right!"

 

"He was," Vegeta whispered, and the girl leaned in closer. He pondered glazing it over—to make things easier. But no; this was her only chance to learn about her family's history, and his chance to fill in the holes that her parents had left, not knowing better. His chest quivered at thought. Vejata had killed the girl's father; "I—I killed your grandfather."

 

"Y-y-y—" her eyes widened, teeth clenched. "You?" Her fists were balled tightly and she quivered with rage; her entire body shook. Vegeta noted with alarm the spike in her power, immense for her age and indeed larger than it had been before, the last time he had seen such rage in her eyes. In his surprise, he was helpless to block her as she slugged him across the face. As he reeled backward, he resolved to let her do what she had to—but no more punches came. He watched as she breathed heavily, holding herself in a defensive stance.

 

Vegeta bit his lip. "Listen—girl—" he spoke quietly. "It was—I'm—" She seemed to perceive the apology, and loosened her stance a bit, but a soft growl still emanated from her throat.

 

"Hell," she spat, "you're all fucked up, ain'tcha? Why would you do that?" The girl looked away, grumbling, as if she wasn't expecting an answer.

 

He nodded, but smirked a little as he rubbed his cheek. "You know," he laughed, "that hurt."

 

"Good," she rubbed her knuckles. "Hurt me too."

 

"What's your name?"

 

"Cole," she seemed timid about it, her normally expressive tail wrapping around her waist as she answered.

 

"Cole," Vegeta repeated. "Would you be interested in—in hearing some more stories about your grandfather?"

 

She nodded, expression blooming into a grin.

 

"Would you like me to teach you a little bit about fighting?"

 

Again she nodded, this time bouncing on the balls of her feet.

 

"And," he crossed his arms, smirking, "Cole?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Tell me—do you like the sound of Queen Cole?"

 

"B-b-but—"

 

"Not yet," he assured her, resting a hand against her hair, ruffling it. "We're talking in a few years, at least. What do you think? Like that idea?"

 

"Y...," she breathed, "Yeah."