Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Red Window ❯ Compromise ( Chapter 6 )

Vejata knew she was beaten before she even swung a punch, but still her blood sung with the verve of a good fight. Unlike Vegeta, whose responses to her attacks had been little more than overpowered slaps on the wrist that, in the end, sent her back to the hospital wing time and time again, Goku started at a very low base power and worked his way up as she challenged him.

 

At any moment, Goku could ascend to the third level and slaughter her. But he didn't. And she knew he wouldn't.

 

She carefully ducked Goku's fist and curled her smaller form carefully before unleashing a kick to his gut. Goku slid across the floor before his bare feet caught a grip against it, and he launched himself toward her, disappearing just before he struck her face to kick her between the shoulder blades instead. Vejata slammed to the floor, and as she flipped around to rest against her back, she twisted her feet quickly, using them to knock Goku against the ground as well.

 

Surprised by her luck, she quickly dove atop Goku and drew her hand back, preparing for the final strike. Her hand, fingers straight and rigid, sliced through the air—

 

“No.” Goku gripped her hand. His eyes were pained although his body had been barely even scratched. He breathed heavily. “You were going to do it…weren't you?”

 

Her hand was caught tight within Goku's, and she did not struggle to remove it. She held her gaze steady into his. “Yes. Of course I was.”

 

“Wh…why?” his voice seemed to quiver in disbelief.

 

“We are far away; your offspring would never know where you had gone. I have guaranteed safe passage home.”

 

“No—what if the ship ran out of fuel?”

 

She raised her first two fingers to her brow. “A bit closer, and I can find my home.”

 

“I-Instantaneous Movement? I thought…I thought you couldn't sense ki.”

 

Her response was accompanied by a frustrated growl, “No, I can't.”

 

“Then how do you teleport?” His hold on her hand did not loosen.

 

“I can't imagine why you would need to sense ki,” she focused on her two raised fingers momentarily. “All I have to do is be within range of someone I know and focus on them.”

 

“Ah!” Goku smiled a bit. “I'll bet you really are sensing ki then!”

 

She shook her head. “I've been able to do this for as long as I can remember.”

 

“You…didn't receive any training? From the Yardratjin?”

 

“No. Who the hell are they?”

 

“Mm,” Goku looked at his own fingers thoughtfully. “Maybe the technique we know isn't the same, then. I just thought it was because you also do this,” and he demonstrated the usual course of action—raising his first two fingers to his forehead.

 

Vejata watched him carefully, thinking. “Perhaps they are derived from the same source.”

 

“But how would you know it? It took me a long time to learn.”

 

“Maybe a remnant of the influence of the creature responsible for my creation,” she reasoned. “Perhaps it knew of…”

 

“Yardrat.”

 

“Yes.”

 

After a moment's pause, Goku leaned in, eyes serious. “Vejata. I want to help you.” His grip on her hand tightened. “But if you obsess over killing me, you'll get nowhere.” She felt the bones in her hand might snap at any moment. “Listen to me, and I know I can help you become a Super Saiyajin. Vegeta had it in him, so you must too.” He took in a deep breath. “I don't give a damn about ruling your planet. So just…stop.”

 

She inhaled and exhaled slowly.

 

“Tell me when you're ready to train.” He released her hand. His voice dipped down into disappointment. “To really train. And not a moment sooner.”

 

Vejata stretched her fingers, saw that they were all intact. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already gone.

 

 

---

 

 

“Trunks!” Bulma called to her son as he came sprinting through the door, Goten close behind. They came to a screeching halt, frozen in place with horror etched upon their faces.

 

“We didn't do it!” they both spoke at once.

 

She shot them a scrutinizing frown.

 

“Well, it was more like this, we were gonna go straight home after school—”

 

“But then…”

 

“But then Goten really had to pee—”

 

“But it was windy out…”

 

“So we really only—”

 

“This is serious!” Bulma shouted suddenly. “Trunks, where is your father?”

 

“Dad? Um…I guess I haven't seen him since this morning.”

 

“What were you two talking about just now?”

 

“Nothing!” they both piped up at once.

 

Sighing, Bulma raised a hand to her forehead and massaged her temples. “Boys, I need you to tell me where Vegeta is right now.”

 

“Hmm,” and they both knit their brows in concentration. She waited impatiently, rapping fingers against the countertop.

 

“Hey, stop it!” Goten pouted. “I can't focus!”

 

“Oh…sorry,” she drew her hand back and resorted to tapping her fingers against her hips more quietly.

 

“I can't find `im,” Trunks finally decided.

 

“Me either.”

 

“He might be really far away,” Trunks offered.

 

“Maybe he was already waiting in the ship for Goku…” she sighed. “I'll try to contact them. Come on,” Bulma glanced back at them. “I'm not letting you boys out of my sight.”

 

 

---

 

 

Goku let his legs swing to and fro as he sat in the chair, leaning against his elbow and observing the screen. It would still take a while for them to get to New Vegeta… He was restless: not sleepy, and, for once, not hungry. Even more alarming was the sour taste in his mouth when he thought of challenging Vejata to another fight. For so long, his and Vegeta's sparring matches had been intense and dangerous. But not since the first time they had fought had they been life-threatening or so utterly underhanded.

 

I guess this is her first fight with me, in a way, Goku sighed. Vegeta would have done the same thing, way back when, I guess. But… He scratched his head absently. Maybe not. Would he have deliberately made himself the last Saiyajin? This woman seemed yet sneakier than Vegeta, completely unconcerned with any form of honor. Maybe that's just what happens when you spend your whole life having to trick and kill people. He huffed and leaned against his elbow. I don't get why she cares so much about being Queen or whatever. But I guess even if she didn't want to be, then someone would still have to kill her.

 

He flexed the hand with which he had held hers in place earlier. If Vegeta was ever really like her, he's changed a lot since then.

 

She knows I'm not going to kill her. Why does she feel like she has to do away with me?

 

But he knew—knew that she saw him as a threat, and the more people that were stronger than she, the sooner she would die. She wasn't so much younger than him, physically—he'd spent eight years of his life dead, not aging. Goku had to remember that she might only know as much as Vegeta had, when he had appeared on Earth—knew nothing of Cell, or Buu—or of the tight bonds woven between even friends and enemies when push came to shove.

 

He felt compelled to see her, if she could really look so similar to Vegeta if she acted so differently. But as Goku approached her, curled defensively on one of the ship's cots, there was no denying it: she looked just like Vegeta—she smelled just like Vegeta. Only a subtle curve of her hip and gentle slope across her chest distinguished her from the man, only a slightly plumper lip and the higher pitch of her breathing.

 

And her scent, maybe just a bit more of the metallic blood that might never wash from her hands.

 

Her eyes shot open and her chest seemed to jump at the sight of Goku so close to her. “Get the hell away from me!” she hissed.

 

“Y-yeah,” Goku nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He stepped away until his back hit the wall, palms in the air and facing her in surrender, red hands, white flag.

 

“What are you looking at?” she spoke, her voice low.

 

“N-nothing. Just that you look so much like Vegeta.”

 

“Of course I do, dumbass. I have nearly identical genes.”

 

“But kind of different, you know?” he hurried. “You're not the same.”

 

“Yes. You said I could never replace your Vegeta.”

 

“No. You couldn't,” he agreed.

 

“Don't you realize,” she sat up, and her tail struck the bed repeatedly in her agitation. “That that's the very reason I was created?”

 

“I…”

 

“I won't take offense. I know that I'm doing a better job than he ever could.”

 

“I, I don't…”

 

She leapt from the bed and paced up to Goku. He felt like the smaller one. “Now leave me to rest. If what you say is true, you'll have dear Vegeta Mark One back soon enough.” The bitterness in her voice was undeniable. If only I could have killed him earlier, she seethed. If he gets what he wants, I'll have to kill Vegeta again. And it will be much harder the second time around…

 

“S-sure,” Goku nodded. “Yeah.” He turned away from Vegeta—no, Vejata, Vejata—and left.

 

She carefully collapsed onto the cot. Unbelievable.

 

 

---

 

 

“Damn it, answer!” Bulma pounded on the screen, but to no avail. Trunks and Goten looked on from behind her, partly in concern, partly in fear. “It's no use, guys. Either they're training, sleeping, or not bothering to answer.” She crossed her arms and blew her bangs out of her eyes defiantly. “I'm starting to think I'm worrying all for nothing. It would be just like them to run off like that.” She kicked the wall in frustration. “Stupid Vegeta, stupid Goku, and especially stupid asshole Vegeta look-alike bitch!” Bulma screamed, and turned to find horror in Goten's eyes and vast amusement in her son's.

 

“You sure got it in for her, don'tcha, Mom?”

 

“You bet I do! Probably the one who dragged them away in the first place!”

 

“I think we should go ask Mister Piccolo about it,” Goten suggested quietly. “He's really smart. Maybe he knows.”

 

With an exasperated sigh, Bulma ruffled the boys' hair as she passed by them. “Guess it can't hurt. All right, kiddos, I can't fly like you can, so—”

 

So they each grabbed one of her arms and shot out the door, and the screaming woman kicked her feet madly in protest, to no avail.

 

 

 

---

 

 

Goku sat in the gravity room, meditating. Training under high gravity wasn't his preferred way of going about things, at least not in recent times.

 

He thought of Vegeta, waiting in the afterlife to be wished back, probably cursing him at this very moment for not simply teleporting to New Namek. Goku knew that Enma would watch over Vegeta's body even if the prince was not allowed into Heaven—but maybe he would be, by now!—so there was no need for urgency. “I'm sorry, Vegeta,” he spoke quietly. “I have to do this. I know she can change. But right now, if I wish you back, she'll just try to kill you again. Or maybe you'd even try to kill her…” Falling out of his meditative position, he leaned his head against his palm. “Can't say I'd blame you.”

 

Flashes of Vegeta's gruesome death hit his lids, images of his mangled throat, blood leaking everywhere, empty eyes…more violet, more personal than what Freeza had done. And he had been too late, too slow, again. “I'm sorry, Vegeta. And I hope…she will be, too.”

 

“I will be what?”

 

“Oh! You're up!” Goku shook the images out of his head.

 

She inclined her head. “I will avoid killing you. For now, and only for now. When we get to New Vegeta, all bets are off. These are my terms.”

 

Goku smiled.