Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Borrowed Redemption ❯ X ( Chapter 10 )

Borrowed Redemption ::

Chapter 10

 

 

Somewhat alarmed by this realization, Goku took in a few deep breaths. It shouldn't have surprised him; he had, in fact, spent a great deal of time believing so. Still, this was of more significance; he had wanted Vegeta then, at the time of his rash deeds. And although Vegeta's acts could certainly be called into question, Goku was beginning to feel that he didn't deserve quite so much blame. I guess, he scratched his head, in a way he didn't have much of a choice. I wasn't exactly giving him one. He scratched his head. I guess that spell didn't do quite what the wizard expected. Instead of filling me with evil thoughts, it must have just released my inhibitions…I wasn't scared to unleash my rage on Vegeta, and I wasn't scared to overpower him and…

 

Goku's thoughts came to a halt as he simultaneously attempted to process and reject a sudden and keen awareness of the incorrectness of his previous perception. Vegeta didn't force me. I forced him. He smiled a bit, though, as he recalled the events. But I think once he stopped trying to do the right thing…he really enjoyed himself. Blushing, Goku glanced down between his legs. Me too.

 

 

***

 

 

Roaring laughter issued from Vegeta's mouth as he unleashed an all-out attack on a new planet. I'd forgotten how very much I enjoy a nice binge of pain and destruction. His grin widened and his teeth gleamed. Since the first planet, he had been destroying nearly nonstop, resting only as the ship moved from one planet to the next. He skipped those without life, without anyone to scream at his presence. Quickly, word of the bloodthirsty Saiyajin prince was spreading. Before long he was greeted with fear wherever he went, and suspected this would continue so long as he continued down a path, ever proceeding to the nearest inhabited planet.

 

He was enjoying himself, but one thought nagged at his mind at each pause of reckless devastation. While he was having the time of his life—annihilating, inflicting pain, and not at Freeza's control, but by his own whim—Vegeta knew he would never get stronger this way. At this rate, he would even get weaker: forgetting to eat, forgetting to train, drunk on the pleasure of destruction. For now, he would enjoy it. But he knew that this too would end. He just didn't want to think about what he would do when it did.

 

 

***

 

 

But it ended too soon, and Vegeta ached for home.

 

Home? His brows furrowed as the thought of the word. What home? I am already out in space… An idea occurred to him. Gazing periodically to the ceiling as he dug through his memories, Vegeta hesitantly began entering numbers into one of the ship's screens. He glanced over the screen, nodded to himself, and finalized the coordinates. A timer appeared on the screen, along with a projected path to the coordinate. It would be a while, and a journey largely through empty, desolate space.

 

And now I rest.

 

 

***

 

 

“No one has ever mastered my training so quickly!” Kaio laughed. “But I suppose you are your fathers' sons.”

 

“Piece of cake,” Trunks smirked. “Not even a challenge.” He crossed his arms.

 

“It was fun!” Goten added.

 

“…Definitely your fathers' sons.”

 

“Who should we go see next?” Goten bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly. “Who else can give us awesome training?”

 

“Well, no one will be quite as good as me, of course,” Kaio answered smugly, adjusting his sunglasses. “You know, I could give you two additional training in comedic—”

 

“No, we're here to fight!” Trunks cut in. “Not to go to some joke school. Right, Goten?”

 

“Um, yeah,” he nodded. “Sorry.”

 

“I suppose I could give you some advice. There might be a few others you could learn something from…”

 

 

***

 

 

I wonder where Vegeta is right now? Goku pondered. I really need to talk to him about some of this. He sighed, a small smile playing across his features. Maybe I should thank that wizard. At least now there's no way for me to avoid how at least a part of me really feels… Goku ran his hand through his hair. But maybe I'm not ready to talk to Vegeta yet. He searched for the man's ki anyway, but it was too distant to pinpoint. The prince was alive, but Goku knew nothing more than that. I hope he doesn't stay away for too long. But I don't think I should go to him even if I get the chance. He probably has just as much to think about as I do… Goku's thoughts trailed off as he watched an eagle soar across the sky, calling out over its dominion.

 

It's too bad I didn't get to meet that djinn and take him on. If he was as strong as Kaioshin feared… Goku realized what he needed now, his mind peaceful yet still roiling in tumult, was just such a fight. But now, the only one to consistently rival his strength was gone, out in space. I almost powered up to something…further. I wish I could keep fighting to see if I could get there again. For now, though, Goku would have to settle for training by himself. He would start by meditating on his latest battle with Vegeta; perhaps he could tap back into the strength that Babidi's spell had given him.

 

 

***

 

 

Vegeta woke up to the gentle buzz of the computer's speech coming from the other room. I'm here.

 

Stepping toward the ship's small window, the prince gazed out into the space, almost entirely empty but for a few nearly still chunks of rock and debris. Good god. His exhalations collected against the window, but hardly enough to block his view; Vegeta could scarcely breathe at the sight. None of the debris was recognizable, but he knew it. From his position, the two suns would still make their rounds about him, tracing paths through his sky. Choking out what air was in his lungs, Vegeta muttered to himself, “Good god…”

 

Tears leaked from his eyes as his forehead fell against the window. He'd always had a vision of a thousand graves, but each marked with the name of his pride. Now, in the flotsam and empty space, they were names and faces; more of them than he'd ever known. He had never fought for them, no. But now here was their prince, the sole attendee of the funeral that had been floating there, waiting for him, still, for decades. A ripple in space that had been silent since his childhood, Vegeta gasped to draw air into his constricting throat.

 

And Vegeta himself had not always been there for his planet; in his youth, was often out learning of what was to become his job and his position.

 

And perhaps, he mused, now shuddering shamelessly with his forehead still pressed against the window, perhaps it was fate that his home was left defenseless as soon as the savior of the universe; the savior, at least, of his universe, was shuttled elsewhere. Yet this drifting dust would imprint in Goku little more sorrow than any of the destruction Vegeta had left in his wake. But who was he to judge?—spending nearly half a century of his own life fighting his battles merely in the name of his people, but never truly for them.

 

Because who, what Saiyajin had he truly known before the mass genocide that was Freeza's fear? His parents, especially his father; perhaps a small collection of his personal attendees. And after his planet's destruction? He became closer with Nappa, and Raditsu.

 

And Kakarrot.

 

Vegeta's torrent of emotion reached its end, or at least its eye, at last, as he adjusted to the sight of his dissipated planet and focused his attention on the reason he was out here, more alone than he had realized, mourning for things he had never known and things he had known alike; mourning for the dead he had never felt like honoring until this day; mourning, more than anything, for himself.

 

He closed his eyes. Kakarrot.

 

 

***

 

 

Goku remained in his state for meditation for at least half an hour before taking a break to eat. Goku was of the philosophy that training on an empty stomach was no training at all. He waded through the river, searching for fish, and snatched one of the biggest he could find. Quickly and skillfully, the Saiyajin killed the large creature, and promptly used ki emanating from his hands to cook it through. Just as quickly as the fish had been caught, it was eaten, settling into Goku's stomach. Goku sat on the edge of the river, watching the water and tiny fishes swirl around his bare toes. He closed his eyes, imagining the cold and flowing water was creeping up to take hold of his body, picturing the liquid as a force that dissolved dams to his heart and to his mind, letting the two communicate with each other, letting all thoughts and feeling burst forth…robust, blazing, but controlled… Silence over took him for minutes, and more minutes.

 

Then, suddenly, Goku opened his eyes, smirking. Bingo.

 

 

***

 

 

“You've got it,” one of the figures smiled gently. “Now, give it a try for real this time.”

 

“I'm so psyched!” Trunks grinned, nearly hopping, as Goten was. First facing each other and giving a thumbs-up, and then turning toward their instructors, the boys grinned confidently, carefully taking position.

 

“We were such a good team even before this, Trunks!” Goten muttered as he prepared his stance. “This is gonna be even better!”

 

“We're gonna kick your asses!” Trunks laughed, pointing at the two figures, who were gathering up their stances just as carefully, watching patiently as the boys got ready to start.

 

“Maybe,” the other figure admitted, “But not as easily as you think.” Exchanging glances with his partner, the two carried out their elaborate move perfectly.

 

“Beat that!”

 

“Oh, we will!” the two boys called out in unison. And they were ready.

 

 

***

 

 

As Vegeta reflected on the Saiyajin race, he noticed that his pride for his people fell mostly on the shoulders of two in particular: his father…and Goku. Of course he would feel that the man who had taught him nearly everything he knew about the Saiyajin could do no wrong, and, as he grasped for his identity in this minefield of graves, realized why he clung onto every word his father uttered. True, he likely spoke untruthfully at times, and likely all those words were filtered through the king's own pride as well. But, certainly, Vegeta was proud to be his father's son either way, even after some forty years without him. True, he hardly thought of the man; no longer did he feel he was living in the dead king's shadow, obligated to live up to his image somehow. No, that had passed long ago.

 

And then there was the only other full-blooded Saiyajin of which Vegeta could claim to be proud; indeed, the one he knew best. He'd had only a handful of years with his father, but many times that with Goku. In that regard, with his culture nearly dead as it was, Vegeta supposed Goku was, by this point, just as much a contributor of what it meant to be Saiyajin as the prince himself.

 

Yes, I am proud of Kakarrot, for becoming what he has, for reaching what he has…I suppose that I would resign myself to second place was inevitable. At least I can say that he is one of my people, and surely he must attribute much of himself to my influence as I must to his. A shard of some old building drifted near the window. Vegeta almost tried to reach through to touch it, as if even in that close proximity the remnants of his past might not be real.

 

But why am I proud of Kakarrot? Is it his strength? Something about his character? The shard drifted out of view, but Vegeta was not so sentimental; he did not mourn its disappearance. Of course. It's the way the man fights. He seems to strive purely to be challenged, his victories merely a means, to him, of proving that he was able to rise to anything thrown at him. Vegeta chortled quietly to himself. He's even excited to be defeated, as long as he got a second chance. He found it difficult to imagine thinking in the same way. Kakarrot seems to always fight purely for the sake of fighting…but I suppose…I've felt that way before too. Perhaps only for moments, Vegeta knew that he could achieve a similar disinterest toward anything but the battle itself; but only when he was at his calmest, his most secure. And I'm proud of Kakarrot…because he remains in that state all the time.

 

Perhaps he is the true Saiyajin. But somehow, thoughts of what it meant to be a true Saiyajin seemed sacrilegious here, this un-hallowed ground of his race. Still; he was their prince, and they were gone and could have no say in the matter anyway. By that token, as I come closer to achieving that pure love of battle, I become more of a Saiyajin than I ever have been before—before slaughtering planets, and wreaking havoc everywhere my feet hit the ground…before having so much to prove, so much wrathful vengeance…

 

And if I am more of a Saiyajin than I was in those days, if I can embrace that and learn to use it…

 

Then I will truly be a force to be reckoned with.

 

 

***

 

 

He had not killed a soul since that day, even though Vegeta was busy moving from planet to planet. This time, he was training. Whenever he could, he tried to hold Goku's spirit in his mind, occasionally mustering the strength to ask the locals about their own fighting techniques. Goku had learned his instantaneous movement technique in space…Vegeta didn't want to pass up the chance to learn a new move himself, to surprise Goku when he came back home.

 

And that was it. Home. Earth. He knew where he belonged. Perhaps visiting his home planet had given him some peace; Vegeta felt he had fulfilled his last obligation to his past. Now, he could face it—whether Goku wanted him there or not, Vegeta knew he would fight to live at the place he had finally learned to call home. He hoped desperately that something would change, that Goku would remember that he had tried, at first, to stay away from such a fight, had attempted to avoid submitting to the appeal of Goku's advances, to avoid hurting the man. He hoped that Goku would find what part of himself had caused him to act in such a way. Vegeta knew that what he had done was his own fault, but he felt that he was not the only party to be blamed for the whole ordeal. Maybe it's an unrealistic thought, but certainly that is what I hope. Kakarrot has given me so many more chances than any one else—he and, perhaps, Bulma. Was what I did the last straw? Kakarrot…you hurt me, too. I'll give you another chance. I'll be content, even, if you are only interested in friendship—so be it. I just want your company.

 

But what would Kakarrot think of what I've been doing out here? Allowing himself to calmly evaluate the sheer pleasure he had felt at destroying other peoples, Vegeta, finally, felt regret…guilt. Somehow, this was freeing; he felt his training become more fruitful. Still, he remembered something peculiar about the last time he had seen Goku: the apparent near-transformation the other Saiyajin had made. His hair got longer for a moment…his power level spiked higher than I'd ever felt it. He was no longer under the wizard's influence…so it likely was not a result of that… Vegeta yearned to discover what this meant—a new, higher tier on the Super Saiyajin power scale? But he knew nothing of how to get there; even rage, for Goku, had not been enough. Vegeta was certain that he had grown stronger with his training; the perspectives of other peoples had allowed him to develop his technique in ways he never would have imagined. Still, the prince had been keeping wary attention on Goku's whereabouts on Earth. The man was clearly up to something, himself…exactly what, Vegeta was too far away to sense.

 

If he's discovered the secret to that transformation, why, I'll— Vegeta half-fumed, half-smirked. It always seems I miss out. He thought back to Namek, waking up in the grave he wasn't expecting—it must have been Goku, who had dug it for him—the skies dark, and he hadn't even seen his rival transform. And now he'll do it again. Vegeta wasn't sure he was convinced, but he wouldn't be surprised if Goku was training right now, trying to pull it off.

 

And as Vegeta continued to reminisce on Namek, on that towering dragon; on freeing himself from Freeza; on learning so much about himself, he came to realize that he was beginning to regret, even, slaughtering the village he had back then. Likely, those Namekains had not been brought back; had not only those who had been killed by the tyrant and his henchman been wished back to life?

 

It has been too long; they, of course, will never live again. So things go. But there is still something I can do for those I just killed. Vegeta felt an odd, uncharacteristic sensation of a swelling heart, at the thought that for once, he could be the one to make things right. He knew what he needed to do, and as he clambered back into the ship, waving to those of this planet's residents who had chosen to see him off, Vegeta concerned himself with one thing only: Where, exactly, is New Namek?