Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Black and White ❯ 05 ( Chapter 5 )

The castle was fairly empty, Goku noticed as he alit, much as it had been upon his first arrival. The walk down the hallway was painful; Goku recalled his desperation and sadness as he had first entered, hoping the woman he'd thought was his friend could assist him. The door to Vejata's area was open, and Goku was immediately shocked by the stale scent of himself. The smell of the room brought back more memories than he thought resided within him, and he leaned against the wall to catch his balance as his mind reeled. Certainly Vejata had lived in here after his death, but her influence had been sparse; was the furniture still cocked at the odd angles it had ended up in? Were those blood-stains? He struggled to remember if they had been there before—before he'd come into the room, or before he'd been killed. Goku rubbed his temples at his fuzzy memory; recalling clearly events that had happened while he was ascended past the normal Super Saiyajin level was always a bit difficult, let alone amidst such emotional turmoil, and he wondered if he really wanted to remember at all.

 

After all, the whole thing had been a false memory—for he still didn't know how it felt to be so close to Vegeta; she was not him. If he had enjoyed any part of it, it sickened him to think of it. Vegeta had never asked about it—perhaps it was even more unnerving to him than it was to Goku. Finding his balance again, the Saiyajin pushed off of the wall to pace around the room, forcing himself to remember—to remember why, and how; the painful times he'd willed himself to go on even when he saw past her trick.

 

As he rounded the table in the middle of the room, Goku noticed one thing that was distinctly different about it from the last time he had been here. The hallway with three doors—there had been buzzing before, with the doors tightly shut. Now all but one were halfway open, and there was no buzzing noise. Had Vejata left them that way? But, no—was this not where Vegeta had found the broken space pod? He peeked into one of the doors, and there it was, still apparently unrepaired. A blueprint was unfolded and laid out across the floor beside a manual, held open by a heavy, important-looking part. Goku glanced over the pod; it was probably the same as what he'd arrived on Earth in. Vegeta had been preparing to head back to Earth in it, too—to his home.

 

The next room seemed to be some bedroom. Things were in disarray, walls dented. Goku wondered why it had been protected by the same buzzing device Bulma had rigged up to the rooms with her most valuable possessions. What was valuable here? He shrugged and moved along to the room with the shut door. When he pressed his fingers into the handle, it was cold; perhaps this was where Vejata kept her food. He licked his lips, wondering what the Saiyajin ate. Calmer now that he had spent time out of the main room, he was getting hungry—perhaps whatever was in this refrigerator was still good. With a jiggling of the handle and a shoving of the door, Goku entered.

 

He shivered as he turned on the light. Footprints were pressed along the thin ice on the floor, and he felt the warmth from his own boots melting the ice below him. He wondered if the boot prints were Vegeta's or Vejata's, and his eyes followed them to the back of the room, where some sort of compartment was fixed against the wall, its glass display iced over and impossible to see through. Goku was reminded of winters at his house—breathing on the window and, on the coldest days, watching his breath freeze on until the warmth of the room melted it back. Maybe the glass here had been breathed on, too, but it was too cold and so the layers remained. As Goku approached, he saw where handprints had pressed through some of the ice, and was certain the boots had been Vegeta's; these handprints were a bit too big to be Vejata's.

 

But why had Vegeta pressed his hands up to the glass? Had he been looking for something, too? Goku settled his hands over the marks, and shivered as his body heat melted the ice from beneath them, cold water droplets running down his arms. He pressed his forehead against the glass, too, and watched as his heat dissolved the ice. Goku closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the cool of the room, hoping that it could slow the inevitable rise of hot sickness that would overtake him once he left back through the living area.

 

When he opened them again, he wondered why it was that his reflection's eyes were still closed—he had never seen such a mirror. But as he glanced down, where streaks of water had melted through the other ice, he found that his reflection was also in a different pose—and was paler, and wore no clothes.

 

His gut swelled and he turned his head to the side, clenching his eyes shut and wondering if he would heave. After several moments, he braced himself and turned back to the glass, no longer obscured by ice for all the heat he had been giving off so near it. "Porunga gave me a new body," he whispered to himself, wondering why. Had this one been damaged beyond repair? Chi-Chi often talked of keeping things in the freezer too long...not that it was ever an issue in their household.

 

Goku wondered if he should have been used to the sight of himself—after all, his son was the spitting image of him. But this was different—it was him, and he was dead. But here he was—alive as ever, or at least alive as he had been for the past few months. Some visceral reaction within him drew tears to his eyes as he pawed at his face through the glass, as if he could comfort himself for everything that had happened. He pressed his forehead against it and let the tears fall, and they spotted small pockmarks into the icy floor between his toes. Seeing friends die was always difficult—tore at him, to be sure. But they were always wished back, weren't they? And so had he been, besides this residue of his old life that remained. The first time he had died, Kami had taken his body. The second, it had been destroyed entirely, as it had been the third. He wondered why Vejata had put it away like this—had she been trying to keep it intact? It looked in good shape, but perhaps Porunga had found something wrong with it. Bulma would probably know, but he would not wish to show her such a gruesome display. He would not wish it onto anybody.

 

But someone had seen it—Vegeta. Goku gazed over his icy body, wondering what Vegeta had thought, and had he found it before or after finding out what had happened? Had he frowned at Goku's foolishness, or had the sight upset him?

 

By now, Goku could not look away from himself. Of course he would have to destroy his body—what if someone else found something bad to do with it? What if he was copied, like Vegeta, and all the copies of him were deceptive, were cruel, were evil?

 

Would they be as strong as him? Would they be as nice? Would they be as forgiv—

 

Goku hung his head. The whitened body before him was the last of his bottomless well of goodwill. This him had friends and enemies, and nothing in between, and not one taken for the other. Even Vegeta he had decided on from the first time they had met—a friend. It had been a good decision; how could this one have gone so wrong?

 

This old him was the him he'd been happy with, and the him he'd known.

 

But I have to get rid of him, he decided, biting his lip. That ain't me now, whether I like it or not. Goku swung the door open, and, jarred, the body tumbled out, hitting the ground with something between an icy clink and a heavy thud. Goku lit up a Kamehameha between his palms. "Bye, friend."

 

 

...

 

 

Vegeta glanced up at the small spike in Goku's energy, and swallowed when he realized the man's location. They would have to discuss it later—maybe.

 

"When are you gonna teach me how to fight?" Cole's tail whipped around in her excitement, striking Vegeta's calf as it swung. "Huh? Can you teach me something of my grandpa's?"

 

The prince held one finger over his mouth and closed his eyes. He had been startled enough by the sight of Goku's dead body; if that was what Goku had noticed just now, he could only imagine what the man might be feeling. Surprises tended to roll off the man no matter what they were, but he had seemed more fragile lately. The shakiness in Goku's resilience was alarming to Vegeta; if Goku could not recover from this trauma, no one could have. But unlike Vegeta, Goku was not armed with a different kind of resilience, of ability to absorb and move on, if slowed.

 

He had never seen his own dead body, of course—when he had been brought back after Vejata killed him, Porunga had been able to recover his body, and again he found himself crawling up from beneath the ground. In a world where such things as the dragon balls existed, and where he and those he knew had died time and time again, perhaps he should have considered this an inevitability.

 

"Hey! Whassa big deal?" Cale huffed, crossing her arms. When Vegeta continued to stare into the distance, she kicked his shin.

 

Vegeta hissed at the sudden pain. "What?" he asked exasperatedly.

 

"Ain'tcha teaching me or ain'tcha?"

 

"Right," he smirked a little. "Of course." He lit up a ball of ki in his palm. "Can you do this?"

 

"Duh," she imitated him.

 

"Good. That makes your first lesson easier." She grinned and puffed her chest out. "We'll see if you can pick it up as quickly as I did—sensing ki."

 

 

...

 

 

It was time to go, and Goku knew it. He shook as he stepped through the main room, but he made himself do it. He knew what he was doing next, too—would talk to the Saiyajin as Vegeta had advised, and would make the experience into something that he hoped would help him. It was impossible to tell, but as far as he reckoned, avoiding matters had never gotten him far.

 

The first village was near, and the people were buzzing and chattering—rather than the fighting and boasting that he had expected to enter. There was a brief hush as he passed each group, but the chatter picked back up almost immediately. Eventually, he gathered up the will to approach one small horde of Saiyajin. "Hey!" he called out. "What's going on?"

 

"You haven't heard?" a woman turned around, raising her eyebrows. "Queen Vegeta is dead. We're makin' bets on who takes her spot."

 

"How're you gonna decide?" Goku cocked his head.

 

The woman rolled her eyes. "If the person who tries to get up there ain't as strong as he thinks he is, someone'll do away with 'im and take over. Easy enough. What're you, a tourist?"

 

"Well," he scratched the back of his neck, "yeah, kinda. Hey, can I talk to you?"

 

There was some muttering amongst the group, and the woman tossed her hair over her shoulders. "Don't see why I should wanna."

 

"Er—I—"

 

"I mean, if you want beneath my armor," she raised her eyebrows suggestively before returning to her condescending stare, "you oughtta at least provide a basis for..."

 

Goku immediately threw his hands out to the sides. "No! No! I don' want that..."

 

Another of the Saiyajin in the group gave a low whistle, and the woman's hair stood on end. There was more whispering, and she glared back at the crowd to hush them. "Well, look who thinks he's better'n me..."

 

Goku crossed his arms, smirking mischievously. "Well, pretty sure I am."

 

"Prove it."

 

"You sure?" Goku raised his eyebrows. "I don't wanna hurt you..."

 

"I dare you."

 

He shrugged. "Well, arright." Before she could blink, she was sliding into the building behind her. Goku brushed some dust from his sleeves. "See? You didn't even see me comin'."

 

"Shit," someone in the crowd laughed, and another pumped her fist in the air, cheering.

 

"So," he reached down to help her up, "c'mon, you wanna talk to me?"

 

"Freak," she rolled her eyes, smacking his hand away as she stood. "That color is hideous."

 

Goku glanced down at his clothes? "Really? I like it." He started walking toward the outskirts of the town, and she followed, waving the group away.

 

"All right, tourist, this'd better be good."

 

"Well, I dunno," he shrugged. "You tell me. I wanted t' ask you about—about Queen Vegeta."

 

"All right," she sighed. "Guess I oughtta expect that of someone new around here. Well—"

 

"Lemme say that I've met her—but—"

 

She raised her eyebrows. "Have you?"

 

"Yeah, I knew her for a while, y'know, thought we got along pretty well but—"

 

"And you lived," now her voice was flat, and she rolled her eyes, "sure."

 

"Hey, listen, lady, I just wanna ask you what she was like before."

 

"Before what?"

 

"Before—er, I guess, er, before she went away for a while, an', an' before she came back a Super Saiyajin."

 

"Oh," the woman's tail tightened around her waist, and she crossed her arms. "Well, damn, it's tough to remember. A lot's happened since then."

 

"Yeah?" he noted her posture. "Like what? Somethin' happen to you?"

 

"Who the fuck didn't something happen to? Anyway, that ain't what you're asking about. Before she went crazy—" the woman's eyes seemed to mist over. "Well, she wasn't half bad. Got shit done. Expected us to be something." She paused. "An' when she came back, expected us to be something we," her fists clenched, "we can't."

 

"She was—all right before?"

 

"Well, she was a Vegeta," the woman shrugged, "and no doubt she was raised by King Vegeta, only she had guts, and the strength t' back it up." She paused. "I wonder if that original son, that Prince Vegeta, if he'd ever have come to anything like her." Goku shivered, and opened his mouth to correct her, but she continued. "I mean, that Super Saiyajin thing, it's gotta just be in the Vegeta line, don't you think? She tried damn hard enough to make one of us one of her."

 

"Don't think it is just Vegetas," Goku smiled playfully. "Naw."

 

"Yeah?" she locked eyes with him.

 

"S'pose you never knew," he laughed a bit, "who the first Super Saiyajin was."

 

"The Queen," she stated.

 

"Nope," Goku's smile spread into a grin, "but hey, good guess, I s'pose." When he felt an unfamiliar ki spike near where Vegeta was, he glanced in its direction. "Say, though, I gotta go—thanks for talkin' with me—"

 

"Wait!" she reached for him, eyes wide, but he had vanished.