Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Consacra ❯ Prologue A ( Prologue )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: Cantare

Prologue A

It amused him to be sitting here.

Vegeta wondered what went on in the mind of the black-robed human on the other side of the wooden pane when he listened to the confessions of killers, rapists, and robbers. With only a thin slab of wood to hold up anonymity and impersonality. He wondered how cold men's confessions were.

Men confessed for different reasons. Some out of guilt, accumulated like suffocating dust in an old room. Some out of fear that a god or spirit or death would catch up with them and take from them what they had taken from others. Some out of remorse, believing they had committed the heavy evil of what humans called “sin.” And some, out of coldness.

His confession was born from such. His breaths were even as he considered what to tell the invisible man beside him. Coldness. Perhaps the only reason to confess that was not a reason at all.

“My son, when was the last time you came to make a confession?”

It amused him that humans used titles so nonchalantly, so often without meaning. His father was dead.

“This is the first.”

“Welcome, then, to the Father's house. What sins have you come to confess?”

He wondered how much time the human had. Perhaps the longest confessions took an hour, two? As far as a confession could be considered a mere listing of crimes, he was sure no human could compare with him.

He decided to spare the man his time. From the catacombs in his mind, he looked toward one unremarkable hole in the rock wall. A sin astronomical by human standards, but easily overlooked if his memory were not filed so cleanly.

“I have committed murder.”

“I see. What were the circumstances, son?”

The man's unruffled, soft voice amused him.

“I was on my way to Earth on a mission. Out of boredom, my companion and I decided to make a stop on another planet. After our brief visit, I destroyed the planet, killing all its inhabitants. I have a close estimate from the intergalactic registry. Three billion, four hundred seventy five million.”

The silence was expected. Vegeta smiled. The man surely thought this was a case of insanity, not sin.

The man spoke again in the same dispassionate, soft voice.

“What was the name of the planet?”

Now this was interesting. Vegeta looked toward the wooden pane as if he could see through it. The unexpected question could either mean the human believed he was playing along in a fantasized story, or he was not human after all.

“Arlia.”

Vegeta could almost hear the man nod. He spoke again, not unpleasantly, “Why did you destroy this planet Arlia?”

Vegeta hesitated before continuing. This conversation had indeed become strange. It was intriguing and refreshing in its own way.

“I was bored.” It was the truth.

Another pause from the priest.

“Boredom by definition cannot engender a specific action, only ambivalence. Son, can you tell me the true reason you committed murder?”

“Genocide, you mean?” Vegeta smiled.

“Murder is the forceful taking of life. Murder will suffice.”

The man had challenged his truth. Vegeta thought for a long moment. The truth was boredom. Or perhaps his truth was boredom. Or it was part of the truth.

“It was fun.”

He could sense the man pondering this new statement.

“For how long was it fun?”

“Until after the fireworks faded,” Vegeta said, remembering the spectacular light display from Arlia's implosion. Beams of light searing through space in all directions, outshining the nearby sun. And pieces of Arlians floating by his window.

“Why was fun important to you?”

For the first time, Vegeta questioned whether this man was a psychiatrist or a priest, asking the most unexpected, irritatingly neutral questions. Where were the condemnations? His skin had itched with anticipation to intimately encounter the idea of sin and the burden it brought for so many humans. Now that yearning for a challenge was dulling.

“Fun is not important to me.”

“Was fun more important than non-boredom?”

“…Why are you asking these questions?”

Vegeta knew without a doubt that the man was smiling now.

“Why are you answering them falsely?”

Vegeta closed his eyes and calmed his breathing, which had unexpectedly quickened as annoyance flitted across his mind.

He backtracked to the last question he had answered “truthfully” according to the priest.

“Arlia.”

A congenial silence, willing him to continue.

Vegeta chose his words carefully. “I was bored. And I liked to have fun. I felt it was amusing when I destroyed the planet.”

“The feeling of amusement came to you. But a passive feeling cannot be the reason for action. Just as disliking boredom and liking fun are not reasons.”

“Why are you telling me my own account of my own actions is wrong?”

“Because you already know it is wrong.”

Vegeta was frustrated. He looked toward the panel once more, his gaze boring into the area where the man's face would be if there was no panel.

He was also annoyed that a conversation with a human could frustrate him so quickly.

“Is it possible to have knowledge without realization?” he asked.

“Your asking that question already says you are drawing closer to a realization.” The enigmatic answer was not satisfying.

Vegeta was intrigued, annoyed, and impatient. But patience was something he had learned well, and he chose to exercise it now. He would make this wooden box his cage until he got what he came for.

“So…I know why I destroyed Arlia, but I have not realized it.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“How can I realize the so-called `true' answer?”

The priest smiled invisibly.

“Come back tomorrow.”

*****

The box was a cage, but he would enter and leave as he wished.

This was like a game. If he saw it in this way, the whole frustrating process would perhaps be more amusing. And Vegeta liked to imagine that stakes were involved in every game.

“What sins have you come to confess?”

He drew a card that had just been placed at the bottom of the deck.

“I have committed murder.”

“I see. What were the circumstances, son?”

“I was on my way to Earth on a mission. Out of boredom, my companion and I decided to make a stop on another planet.”

He paused and considered rearranging the deck. What was the point of intentional déjà vu?

The priest did not interrupt. The silence yawned for sound.

“After our brief visit, I destroyed the planet, killing all its inhabitants. I have a close estimate from the intergalactic registry. Three billion, four hundred seventy five million.”

The silence was expected. Vegeta smiled. This time, the man surely thought this was a case of insanity.

The man spoke again in the same dispassionate, soft voice.

“What was the name of your companion?”

Vegeta had to pause and reanalyze what cards this priest held.

“Nappa.”

“Did your companion Nappa have a part in the murder?”

“He was nearby as I fired the shot.” He remembered the gruff laughter of the older Saiyan echoing his own as the planet had begun to disintegrate.

“Did he have a part in the murder?”

“What does that mean?”

“Was your companion Nappa involved deliberately in any part of the act of murder?”

“He laughed as I destroyed Arlia.”

“Does laughter implicate him in the murder?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Being forced into these doddering infant steps around minutiae did not sit well with him.

“Nappa had no hand in the murder. I was the sole actor.” He wondered why the priest was so intent on this issue.

“Why was Nappa nearby during the murder?”

“We were on a mission to Earth.” Vegeta disliked repetition now. “Together we stopped at Arlia. Together we left. Naturally, Nappa was there when I destroyed the planet.”

“Did he choose to be there?”

“He was my servant, and I his Prince,” Vegeta said, not without a little tension. These sidewinding questions were irritating. “It does not matter whether he wanted to be there or not. I daresay the dimwit enjoyed his servitude. What does this have to do with my sin against Arlia?”

“Have you been speaking of your sin against Arlia?”

“I've been answering your impertinent questions about a long-dead servant of mine. I came here to find the truth about Arlia, as we agreed upon yesterday.”

“Have patience, my son. Truth answers to demands only on its own terms,” the priest said gently.

Vegeta turned this thought over briefly in his head before asking, “Has it not been obvious that I am speaking of my sin against Arlia?”

“The Father has already heard your confession of this sin.”

Vegeta leaned forward on the small wooden bench, his face propped on his hands.

“I confess I am unfamiliar with the customs of this house. If it is policy that I cannot speak of a sin already confessed…”

“There is no policy preventing you from speaking as you wish.”

“Then…” He paused and decided the priest must have been trying to lead him into some sort of trap, given Vegeta's limited knowledge of the rules of this place. The subject of Arlia soured on his tongue and he threw his remaining cards away with disgust.

Holy men were not supposed to play games. Yet this one did.

The man was bold to join this game. Vegeta could respect that.

“Then…” he mused, speaking more to himself than to his neighbor.

“May I suggest,” the priest said softly, “continuing with the sin we were discussing just now?”

What was this man getting at?

“Do you want to hear about Arlia or not? Or some other genocide, perhaps? I have many more to tell of, holocausts that make Arlia look like drowning ants,” Vegeta said tensely. Funny—the Arlians had looked like insects after all.

“Murder is the forceful taking of life. Murder will suffice.”

Vegeta took a slow breath and let go of all vestiges of the game he had constructed. “I repeated myself in the beginning for amusement, but the amusement has ended. I have ended my farce, and you will end yours.”

“None of this was a farce, my son,” the priest said placidly. “You were not speaking of Arlia.”

“No, I was speaking of Nappa because—”

He stopped.

“Yes,” the priest said.

“What do you know of Nappa?” Vegeta questioned.

“I know of him from what you have answered truthfully. He was your companion who went with you to Arlia, as you established yesterday. Today, you revealed that he was nearby when you committed murder, though he had no hand in it himself. And he is now dead.”

“What have I answered untruthfully, then?”

“You have not been untruthful, but you have avoided questions.”

“Name the first.”

“Does laughter implicate him in the murder?”

“I already explained that I was the sole actor in the murder—”

“You are avoiding the question.”

Vegeta suppressed the urge to punch through the wooden panel. “No. Laughter does not implicate him.”

The priest's calm voice did its part in defusing his anger somewhat. “The second question is, did he choose to be there?”

“Yes, he did.”

There was silence for a moment. “Perhaps you might rethink your answers.”

“Do you think I'm twisting the truth?”

“The truth has its own way, my son. Neither you nor I have any way of changing it.”

“I tire of your riddles. Speak plainly.”

“Perhaps it would be best to start over.”

Vegeta glared dangerously at the panel. “You are toying with my patience.”

“You are free to leave if you wish.”

Vegeta sat in silence for several minutes.

“Begin,” he said curtly.

“What sins have you come to confess?”

“Murder.”

“What were the circumstances, son?”

Vegeta was calm. He would say what the priest most likely wanted to hear. He would not be led like a dumb animal into a trap of words and abstract statements. Somehow, Nappa was important.

“My companion Nappa and I were headed to Earth on a mission.”

He paused, waiting for an interjection from the priest. There was none.

“We stopped at Arlia, and upon leaving, I, acting alone, destroyed it and murdered billions of Arlians.”

He paused again. No response.

“What else is there to say?”

“You have not finished the story, have you?” the priest said.

He remembered that he was supposedly not speaking of Arlia.

“We arrived on Earth.”

Silence. Approval.

“We fought several human warriors. Nappa destroyed a city and all the humans in it.”

“And your act of murder?”

“My act of murder…”

Not Arlia.

Earth.

It was absurd. This human had made him afraid of giving the wrong answer. No, not afraid, Vegeta amended—there was nothing to fear. He despised giving the wrong answer. So he kept silent and furiously thought over the matter.

“Was your companion Nappa involved deliberately in any part of the act of murder?” the priest asked gently.

If his suspicions were true…

“No.”

“Does laughter implicate him in the murder?”

“Yes…”

“Why was Nappa nearby during the murder?”

“Because I forced him to be…”

He envisioned a pale smile slowly appearing on an invisible face.

“So…did he choose to be there?”

“No, he did not.”

It was absurd; Vegeta's heart was pounding. He clenched his fists.

“Now, my son, why did you commit murder?”

Vegeta closed his eyes and leaned back against the wooden board.

“He laughed, and he thanked me.” The image flashed in his mind, Nappa reaching up and taking his hand, his laugh cut short by a bloody cough. And, still unable to stand, he had choked out his thanks for Vegeta's help. Something Saiyan warriors never did.

“And…”

“I decided to kill him for his weakness.”

Not Arlia. Earth. The only murder he had committed on Earth at that time.

“The personal traits of others are not a reason for murder.”

“Just as disliking boredom and liking fun are not reasons, I suppose?” Vegeta said mockingly. “Well, I despised Nappa's weakness. It bothered me greatly, and I decided he was not a servant worth keeping. As his Prince I was within my rights to kill him.”

“So why did you commit the murder?”

Vegeta paused. “I despised his weakness.”

“Again.”

“I was greatly bothered by his weakness.”

“Again.”

“I decided to kill him for his—”

“Yes,” the priest interrupted.

“I decided?”

Silence.

It was absurd. Vegeta no longer cared what he himself thought was right or wrong. He only despised giving an answer that was wrong in the human's eyes. Absurd.

“I decided to kill Nappa. That is my reason for murder.”

It was absurd, that he would give an answer he did not know or believe was right, but would agree that it was right if a human said so.

The human must have smiled then.

“Yes.”

“And the truth about Arlia…” Vegeta opened his eyes. “I decided to destroy it. I chose to murder the three billion.”

“The Father has heard your confession, my son. Do you wish to repent?”

Vegeta left the confessional.

*****

The echo of his shoes tapping on the wooden floor of the confessional was uncomfortably loud. He noticed for the first time the sound of his own breathing. There was no sound from the other side of the panel.

“Hello again,” he said with cold amity.

“Good evening, my son.”

“Didn't expect me to be back, did you?”

“A man with questions inevitably goes to their place of origin.”

“Yes. Well,” he said with a hint of smugness. “Tonight I will question you.”

“You are certainly welcome to.”

You will not be so composed by the end, Vegeta thought smugly.

He began. “I wish to hear you confess. What is the worst sin you have committed?”

There was a chuckle from the other side of the panel. “Valid question.” A pause. “They are all the worst.”

Vegeta was irritated but not surprised at the man's offroad answer. It would just take longer for him to get to his challenge. “What do you consider the worst? Murder? Betrayal? Or perhaps one of the seven deadlies?”

“They are all the same.”

“How is that possible?”

“Each is a denial of the truth.”

“So you are saying that murder is the same as stealing candy.”

“The path one walks is different, but the choice is the same. So also is the result.”

This was just a side journey. Eventually they would make it back to what Vegeta wanted to discuss. He tried to bear patiently with this line of reasoning.

“Choosing to murder and choosing to steal are different.”

“In both cases, one chooses to deny truth.”

“But the results are not the same. In one, there is death. In the other…there is an unhappy child, at worst.”

The priest sighed. Was this the first sign of exasperation? “Do you only see the immediate physical result? Is there not one even more immediate than that?”

“Denying the truth? What is truth?” Vegeta sneered.

“Denial is the origin. It must begin in the will. One decides, and denies. Actions are then mere reactions.”

“And the result?”

“Death.”

Vegeta laughed. “Stealing candy leads to death?”

“You are still seeing only the surface, the physical.”

He had a reason to ridicule this man now. Even the coarsest dimwit could topple the man's reasoning.

“So you and I are still alive. Our choices haven't led to death.”

“You are still seeing only the surface.”

“And the truth is beneath, I suppose. Just like the whole stinking planet of Arlia was.”

Silence. Vegeta felt good.

“You've never killed a man, have you?”

“I have.”

Surprise.

“Oh, so I'm dealing with an ex-murderer priest. Did the church help you pay your way out of jail?”

“I was not part of the church.”

“Fair enough. You were a young man with passions then. I sympathize,” Vegeta said cordially. “How many have you killed?”

“Many.”

Surprise.

“An ex-serial murderer priest, then. But I suppose, compared to my track record, you're still holy enough to hear confessions.”

“It takes no holiness to hear confessions.”

“What's the worst—I mean, most repulsive—sin a man has confessed to you? Surely nothing can outdo the genocide of the Arlians.” He was finally moving toward his goal, refusing to be tied down by small talk.

“There have been many.”

“You seem to delight in vague answers.”

“And you are not at all vague in your current intent.”

He bristled at the priest's sleight of hand. “Oh, and what might my intent be?”

“Proceed, my son. Tell me a story of sin. One greater than the genocide of the Arlians.”

The man had met his challenge, preempted it, in fact. Vegeta took a second to regain his calm.

There was no way the man would remain calm after this story.

He began. He left no detail out of the narration and did not mince words. He felt every phrase and sentence defiling the quiet sanctity of this house. It was an enjoyable hour spent narrating the story of one day of his life.

He finished. Memories retreated from his lips, slowly settling back into their proper places in the catacombs of his mind. The faint savor of blood and screams faded from his tongue.

He waited. The man had remained silent and unmoving through the story. Perhaps in shock. Vegeta had held nothing back. Every bloody detail, every sick and horrid pleasure he had felt, every bit of violence was there.

“Well?” he said, relishing the man's silence. Funny, this human was now the only one on Earth who had heard this one slice of the most terrible of realities. Cruelties unimaginable to his race.

“Would you like to make this a confession, my son?”

Vegeta studied the man's voice. It was softer. But without trepidation.

And without anger. That made him angry.

Who was this human? Did holy men of this race have the capability to withstand their own emotions? Surely he was furious inside, furious at the utter evil he had just heard and was speaking to. But how could he hide it?

“This is not a confession,” Vegeta said tensely. “I have merely told you the events of one day of my life. One day. I have lived many years; would you like hear more?”

“Would you like to tell more?”

Vegeta clenched his fists in his lap. “How…how is it that you are not disturbed, not terrified or hateful? How can you see me as anything more than an animal?”

“The most repulsive sins are those that only human beings can commit, those that animals are incapable of committing.”

“I am not human,” Vegeta snarled. “And neither are you. Who are you?”

There was no self-satisfaction in the priest's voice. Only calm neutrality.

“I am the priest who has heard your story and now has a story to tell you. Will you hear it?”

*****

He felt pain. It was impossible. Yet it was coursing through the length of his arm, the one he had used to try to smash the panel.

“Fuck! Who the hell are you?!” he demanded. “I'll fucking kill you!”

“Did I speak the truth?” The voice of the priest was like a soft undertone to Vegeta's rage.

“Let me out of here and face me,” Vegeta seethed.

“Did I speak the truth?”

“To hell with your philosophizing. I demand that you tell me who you are.”

The priest's voice seemed to sigh in sorrow and finality. “Truth answers to demands only on its own terms, my son. Anger only obscures its voice.”

“Fuck you! Let me out of here!” Pain shot through his leg upon forceful contact with the front screen. The thin, intricately carved wood of the door was unmarred. “What the hell is this place?!”

“It was not answers you sought when you first walked in these hallowed doors,” the priest began. The sound of his voice was not as before. “It was amusement and folly.”

Vegeta set his fist alight with ki and slammed it against the panel.

“Such was the challenge you sought.” The voice seemed no longer embodied in a man, no longer drawn from breath and vocal cords, but alive in the fabric of the air, rapidly filtering through the dry wood of the panel of separation.

“But now there are many questions, beyond what you bargained for.”

He withdrew his stinging fist and clenched the side of his head. It was as if small needles were piercing his skull, settling in and twisting with echoes of words.

“It is possible to seek and to find only if what you seek is willing to be found.” The words spoke and hovered everywhere around him in the tight confined space of a confessional.

“And a man with questions inevitably goes to their place of origin.”

Vegeta gritted his teeth against a scream of pain.

“Will you accept a new challenge, presented by the answer?”

“Who…are…you..”

“The power of choice is yours, my son.”

*****

He spoke hardly a word to her even as she shouted and screamed and finally pleaded and sobbed. The supplies and fuel were ready, and he knew the essentials of operating the craft. He slept one night under the open stars, guarding the entrance to the ship so that she would not sabotage it and stop him.

Oddly enough, it seemed the child understood. The boy watched quietly and did not make a sound even as his mother raged. Vegeta turned away, unsettled.

The stars shone coldly above, more numerous than the blades of grass among which he lay. Somewhere among them was his destination. A place from long ago, the “place of origin.”

Truth, sin, death, life—to hell with it all.

He would find that man. And kill him.