Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Black and White ❯ 10 ( Chapter 10 )

NOTE: Anybody out there? Is anybody reading this? XD I hope it's not too boring (I promise, the fight will start soon enough—though I'm pretty nervous, myself, because it's not that often that I write fight scenes...)

 

Thank you to anybody here who is reading this! Please don't hesitate to comment if you have any thoughts about the story so far. Or even if you don't, but want to tell me that you're reading the story (hint hint).

 

...

 

"How generous of you," Cell, now lacking a halo, clapped his hand against Muuri, and the Namekian was nearly knocked over; Goku caught him, frowning at Cell.

 

"One thing," Vegeta finally spoke again, and raised his eyes to the creature.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Given the precedent you set last time," he spoke quietly, "it would not be unrealistic to assume that you will not attack us—any of us—for a day."

 

"A day?" Cell seemed to consider this. "Fine," he smirked, "so far as your chances of winning go, it doesn't matter if it's one day or a hundred—but it seems Hell has worn down my capacity for patience, so one day will do."

 

"Don't bother anybody on Earth," Goku added, glancing toward Vegeta. "I don't want no one getting hurt if we already agreed we're not gonna fight in that, y'know, window a' time."

 

"I won't hurt a single one of your precious Earthlings," Cell agreed, chuckling. "What kind of a monster do you think I am? Now, you'd best get back there to prepare, hm?"

 

Goku nodded a little, and Vegeta planted one hand firmly against the man's shoulder. He shivered as Cell teleported himself away, and with careful effort sensed him as he arrived on Earth. "Let's go, Kakarrot." He nodded, and they went.

 

 

...

 

 

Gohan froze mid-equation, yielding to the chills that washed over him, weakly covering the hot anger that flared up inside, that snapped the pencil in his hand. "You," he hissed.

 

"Just visiting," the voice only served to shake Gohan's tenuous hold on his calm.

 

"Go away," he clutched at his papers, and they wrinkled beneath his fists. The open book against which he braced himself tore in half, and Gohan felt the swelling of the mysterious power that had brought out of him by the old Kai.

 

Cell seemed to feel it, too, and grinned. "Oh, don't worry; I've promised your father that I won't be killing anyone for the next twenty-four hours."

 

"Go..." his clenched teeth barely allowed for the passage of sound through them, "away..." As his heart pounded harder, he felt his gut drop from beneath him—in a flicker and a flash, the power from the Kai had fallen away from him and he strained to keep the gold from sifting through his hair.

 

"Come to think of it, I saw a number of your friends earlier. I look forward to fighting them. Will you be joining us, Son Gohan?" Cell crossed his arms casually, grin growing as Gohan ascended. "After all, you saved them from such peril last time. Well—besides your father, of course."

 

Sparks danced around Gohan's quaking form, and his thoughts rushed past too quickly for him to wonder where his calmer power had gone; the rage behind memories and thoughts he had spent years moving past resurfaced and his eyes gleamed a dangerous teal. "Get the fuck out of my house," he warned. This state was confusion—was blazing confidence, usually, but right now a maddening need to escape from the thing that gnawed at what he had tried to leave on the backburner.

 

"Your brother put up quite a fight, by the way," the being began to turn around, leaning against the doorframe with his back to Gohan. "For being so young. But you were stronger. I'd like to fight you again."

 

"My brother?" he rumbled.

 

"Your friends showed up just in time, though. Even Piccolo—ah, I forgot to thank him again for giving me that glorious power of regeneration. Well, I'm sure I'll see him soon enough." Cell closed his eyes, chortling a little, but his breath caught in his throat as Gohan slammed him through the side of the house, kneeing him into the ground after he tumbled for a distance, and landing such that one foot laid against either side of Cell's body. Before the being could react to the flickering lightning of Gohan's form, the half-Saiyajin lifted one foot and slammed it into Cell's abdomen, digging it in deep before lifting it again. Cell moved as if to attack in kind, but seemed to remember something as he paused and reconsidered—and then remembered something again, as his eyes widened. His cool smirk faded into a glare to rival Gohan's in madness—as Gohan slammed his fist into his palm and slowly stepped forward, now-tenuous ties to reality barely holding.

 

Cell coughed and clutched at his stomach, apparently retching, and Gohan took a step closer. He shook his head madly for a few moments, and then heaved some unidentifiable form, encased in saliva and slime, from his mouth. Gohan paused to glance back at the form, anger faltering as he struggled to remember if it was a familiar one. Cell straightened himself, wiping loose strands from his mouth and meeting Gohan's eyes. "It doesn't matter," he eventually chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "That one was weak, and was making me queasy anyway." As Gohan seemed to shake himself to his senses, Cell smirked. "Well, I'd best not provoke you further—until tomorrow, at least." He took to the sky, and Gohan did not follow, shaking as he dropped out of his ascended state and fell to his knees on the ground.

 

"Damn," he clutched at the grass beneath his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. After years of training himself to be calm, to think things through with a level head like his mentor, years of quiet schoolwork and meditation, which he had even maintained so well against Buu—after these years—the monster still lived within him.

 

But something near him was not living, and he could tell by the halo that drifted over its head outside the slime coating. The being coughed weakly, and uncurled, but did little more before falling back into unconsciousness. Gohan approached carefully, noting beneath the slick and dripping coating her tail and the distinctive way her hair stood in spikes even as it was weighed down by the liquid. "A Saiyajin," he muttered to himself, voice cracking a little as the waves of heavy emotion still ebbed. "A dead Saiyajin...that Cell absorbed." He bit his lip, hoping that he could compose himself in the time it would take him to reach the Lookout.

 

 

...

 

 

"Did you feel that?" Goku asked quietly as he and Vegeta approached the others.

 

"Your son," Vegeta nodded. "Cell was near him."

 

"I don't think Cell powered up, tho'—and I don' think he'd break his promise that quick."

 

Vegeta shook his head. "But you know the kid, Kakarrot—a child, even your own," he frowned a bit, "doesn't go through that without something happening to him, and he didn't exactly get over it quickly—"

 

Goku's eyes widened. "Naw, I—I didn't know that."

 

Vegeta pressed his lips together. "Mm. That's right; you weren't there."

 

The man wondered if Vegeta had brought it up on purpose—if he was trying to make him feel bad. After all, it had been Cell that had killed him then. Was he worried now that the same thing would happen? "It's not gonna be like that again, Vegeta—I promise. I saw what Heaven's got, and I'll go back there someday, but I ain't gonna stay there for now."

 

"Thirty years," Vegeta murmured.

 

"What?"

 

"I guess that's about all the longer I've got left before I can't fight anymore. More for you—you're younger. Your body's younger."

 

"How do y' know—that that's it?"

 

"Only old hearsay. I don't know—I don't really know what happens."

 

"An' after you get old—"

 

"Once I'm dead, I'll be no more." They rounded the corner, and nearly collided with Vejata. Vegeta wondered briefly if she'd heard what they'd been saying—she frowned and moved out of the way, watching them carefully as they paced up to Piccolo, and as Bulma dove into Vegeta's hesitant arms.

 

"I sensed him just a minute ago," Piccolo muttered, and Dende nodded, waiting wide-eyed to find out whether the two Saiyajin had any new information. "Gohan."

 

"I dunno what happened," Goku frowned. "But I'm sure he's okay."

 

"He's on his way here," Piccolo added.

 

"Oh," Goku smiled, "well, that's good." He turned to Dende. "Cell promised not to hurt anybody for a day, so we can get ready."

 

The young Namekian nodded. "Your sons are already doing that. Piccolo is having them teach that girl the fusion technique, in case she needs to fuse with one of them—should the other fall," he added the last part in a quiet, somber voice.

 

"That's a good idea," Goku nodded, and turned to the prince. "What should we do, Vegeta?"

 

"We can't go back into the Room of Spirit and Time, so I doubt there will be any use in either of us training now, for such a short time. We should strategize, and mentally prepare. And," he turned away, "I need to speak with my son."

 

"Y-yeah," Goku answered weakly, nodding as he wondered if he was the only one excited for this fight. Piccolo watched him carefully, and Goku stepped closer to the Namekian. "Nobody ever told me fighting Cell messed Gohan up. Did—did you know?"

 

"Of course I did," he murmured.

 

"I mean, he said something about it just today, y'know, but I didn't know..."

 

"Don't make him fight, Son."

 

"I...I won't." He swallowed and laughed nervously, pacing over to the children to watch as they practiced. Vegeta had been doing the same, and now nudged Trunks' shoulder and motioned to an unoccupied area of the platform in the sky. Bulma made as if to follow, but Vegeta shook his head apologetically. All activity paused, however, when Gohan alit nearby carrying a limp body.

 

"Hey," he greeted them with a shaky voice.

 

"What happened?" Piccolo demanded.

 

Gohan neared him, still carrying the body. "Cell just...showed up. He—well—I—I got mad and," he lowered his gaze, "I attacked him. He sure wasn't expecting it...so I...got in a couple of pretty good hits." He bit his lip, as if he could only recall fuzzily what had happened in that time. "Then—remember how he spit the cyborgs back up?" Vejata whipped around from her distant post, eyes widening as she looked at the body for the first time. "He coughed up this—this woman. She must be Saiyajin."

 

"Shallot," Vejata whispered, and it came out louder than she intended, for even those standing at a distance pinned their eyes against her. Gohan laid the body before Dende, and Vejata hurried forward, crouching down to look over the woman's features, crusted with half-dried slime, as Dende glanced up toward Goku and then Piccolo, who nodded. As her body glowed dimly, her eyes flickered open. "Shallot," Vejata repeated.

 

"Shit," the Saiyajin sat up, rubbing her temples. "If that ain't about the most disgusting thing—" she grimaced, picking the mess out of her hair. It was then that she noticed the figure beside her. "Vegeta," her voice was far too neutral for the other woman's comfort. She glanced around. "Where are we?" and then her eyes widened, "There's—shoot, Vegeta, there's another you here! That ain't one of those copies, surely..."

 

"No. The original," Vejata explained. She stood and held her hand out to Shallot, who ignored it as she stood shakily.

 

"So this is her, huh?" Bulma grinned, planting her hands on her hips. Vegeta glanced at her curiously, and Vejata nodded, frowning a little as her ears reddened.

 

"Come with me," Vejata moved closer to Shallot. "We need to talk."

 

"You're tellin' me," she glanced around. "What part of Hell is this?"

 

Goku watched as Vejata directed the woman away, and the others resumed their activity as the two women settled into a quiet conversation. The queen stood very close to the other woman—brushed up against her, on occasion, and the thought of the contact sent chills down his spine and bile up his throat. Still, their touches were gentle—open. As they moved farther away, just out of view, he shifted his position so that he could continue to watch. They brushed lips, and the unfamiliar woman grinned a little, tail thrashing about. Vejata frowned, and whatever it was she was saying had to be angry—but he recognized the faint blush across her cheeks and ears as the one that spread onto Vegeta's features when he and Bulma argued over something silly. Why had he never seen this other woman before? Vejata had never mentioned—

 

But then he remembered the halo over the woman's head—she had been dead until Cell brought her into the living world, and wishing Cell back to life had not wished back all those inside him. As she and the other woman interacted, Vejata moved in a way that was entirely different than the last time he had allowed himself to pay so much attention to her. Her motions were hesitant, honest. He wondered—who was this other woman? Was Vejata normally like this around her? But he turned away before he could arouse too much suspicion from them, for Vejata had glanced his way more than once, and he shuffled away to find Gohan speaking with Piccolo.

 

"...you aren't, kid, and you shouldn't worry about it—your father won't make you fight."

 

"How do you know I'm not—"

 

"I've seen monsters," he seemed introspective for a moment, and then shifted his weight, "and they don't cry afterward."

 

"I don't think you really count—"

 

"I wasn't talking about myself," he assured him. "If you don't recall, I died somewhat recently—at the hands of some copies of Vegeta." He winced. "Perhaps your brother has told you the story." Gohan nodded solemnly; Goten had not spelled things out in detail, but what he had said had been enough for anyone with his wits about him to figure it out. Whatever it was, it had been ugly for Goten and Trunks—and based on the way the Namekian closed his eyes and slowed his breathing to calm himself down, it had been ugly for him, too. "You're not like that."

 

"I guess, but...I don't want to..." he shook his head. "I'm sorry—I never came to talk to you about that, about how you died and..."

 

"We can talk about it later," he rumbled.

 

"So—d'you suppose that Cell absorbed some of those—those copy Vegetas in Hell? If he absorbed that other Saiyajin, that must be how he got so much stronger..."

 

"May have. I think that's a sound prediction. What do you think, Son?" Piccolo turned to Goku, to remind him that he was well aware they were being listened to.

 

"I—I think—yeah," he nodded. "Gohan, I—" he bit his lip, "I'm sorry. 'Bout, y'know—uh—that is—I didn't know an'...I don't want you to feel like you gotta fight, Gohan."

 

"Thanks," Gohan smiled. "Dad, maybe you should talk to Goten—he hasn't seen you for a while." The man nodded and made his way over to the boy.

 

 

...

 

 

"So we're fighting this Cell thing," Shallot crossed her arms. "Arright. But if—"

 

"Not you," Vejata shook her head. "You can't fight."

 

"Shit, Vegeta, I know I'm weaker'n you now, but I can fight—"

 

"No. You're dead. If he kills you—you're gone. Forever. You won't fight."

 

"I ain't betraying you and your team." Vejata opened her mouth to correct her, but Shallot continued, "I'm no coward. But I ain't dumb, either—I won't let myself get killed."

 

"You almost did—if it wouldn't have spit you back up—"

 

"But it did, an' I know better now. It ain't your choice, anyhow, whether I fight."

 

The queen lowered her eyebrows resolutely. "Fine. Whatever. Fight—but don't get yourself killed."

 

"Some words," Shallot spat, "coming from you." Vejata opened her mouth, and Shallot crossed her arms, lifting her nose into the air. "Don't act like you're forgiven." She frowned. "Anywho, I gotta keep a good amount a' anger goin'. Otherwise the second they take me back to Hell, if I'm too happy like, they'll just put me through that machine an' clean all of me outta my soul."

 

"If that's what it takes," Vejata smirked a little.

 

Shallot smirked back. "Well, it is." She threw a punch at Vejata's face, and the queen ducked away, staring wide-eyed. Shallot's smirk grew. "Just for good measure, y'know."

 

"Of course."