Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sojourn ❯ Realization ( Chapter 3 )

Insert standard disclaimer here. I don't own Dragonball Z or any of the characters.

Sojourn, ch 3
Realization

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So beautiful... The untouched world of the past stretched out before me in all directions, painted in vivid, breathing color. The bright cerulean sky darkened to lapis lazuli at the edges, the darker hue bleeding into the paler one like a premature wash of watercolor applied before the previous layer was allowed time enough to dry. Immense, sun-scorched cliffs rose to the heavens on either side of me, banded in countless variations of ochre red, rich sienna brown, and beige, the gradations made visible over centuries of time by the patiently determined efforts of wind and water.

No hint of pale ash rode the late summer wind, which carried a hint of chill from the mountains and the promise of cooler days to come along with the heady scent of late-blooming flora. No smothering grey clouds clotted the skies, no choking black smoke spiraled out of the distant cities. A photograph could hardly do it justice, but I wished suddenly that I'd brought a camera anyway, to bring back even the smallest piece of this lost beauty for my mother.

The muscles in my shoulders bunched unconsciously, my body reacting to the slowly approaching malevolent power levels even as my mind wandered off. So, this was it then...Frieza and his father were coming. If I really concentrated I could feel Goku as well, but his faint ki was much further away...

He isn't going to make it.

Damn! I had promised that I wouldn't interfere, that I wouldn't disturb the fragile fabric of time any more than was absolutely necessary. Indecision held me immobile while a heated internal debate raged in my head. My mother's disapproval was a tangible weight pressing my booted feet into the ground. Irritably, I mentally shrugged it off and took to the air. If this wasn't 'absolutely necessary', I didn't know what was.

In the distance, a bright disc of carnelian flame hurtled toward the earth -- the Cold ship, burning through the atmosphere. From what I gathered, even both of them together posed no threat to me, but still I reached absently for the sword at my back, absorbing cool steel reassurance from the brief contact as I watched the ship descend. I took a final breath as it passed overhead, gathering my resolve, and took off in pursuit.

The vessel had carved a careless path straight through the surrounding rock, coming to a halt in a small, flat, grassless valley. The color of the cliffs in this area deepened to almost violet, powdery and pale on the weathered surface from the tireless assault of the elements, and a faintly sparkling indigo where the ship's passage had laid deep gashes in it, gouging and breaking off and exposing the hidden inner layers to open air. I took my time, sitting cross-legged at a vantage point downwind that afforded me a clear view of them and made it unlikely that they would spot me immediately. And indeed, they disembarked carelessly, overconfident and sure that nothing on this inferior planet could possibly threaten their existence. Neither figure even cast a precursory glance around them to scope out their surroundings. My Saiyajin ears caught a hint of their conversation, carried along by the breeze.

"...Won't he be surprised, when he returns to find all his little friends scattered in bloody pieces on the ground?" Laughter, cruel and mocking, followed the words.

The others actually were nearby, I could sense them now, though they were all suppressing their ki for the moment. I had to admire their bravery; not one of them stood a chance of survival against these two, and more than one of them had already died once at Frieza's hands.

I guess this is my cue.

Light as a feather and silent as a stalking panther, I descended before them. "I'm afraid you won't be killing anyone, Frieza." Two sets of eyebrows raised in my direction, in the one second of shocked silence that elapsed before they both broke again into amused laugher. I imagine I was less than intimidating, a slight red-haired girl standing alone against them. I shrugged, not really caring if they decided to take me seriously; the end result would be the same.

"You have come to stop us, little girl?" snickered the smaller lizard. "Are the men of Chikyuu such cowards that they send their girl-children out to fight?"

A bit of annoyance seeped into my haze of nonchalant apathy, against my will. Why did everyone always think that girls couldn't fight?

The larger figure gave a mock sniff of indignation. "How insulting." He waved a bored hand at his underlings. "Get rid of her."

Let's see if you're still insulted after I kill you, you big stupid-looking bastard. I carved his men up in a matter of seconds, violently quashing down the horrified guilt that blossomed in the pit of my stomach, reminding me that I was passing the point of no return, that my soul was now steeped in their blood. I had never slain anyone before. They'll kill everyone if I don't. They'll kill everyone if I don't. It was a mantra I repeated endlessly to myself as I worked, drowning out any other accusing voices until my mind retreated into the detached, calming void of total concentration, the world narrowing to one thought, one goal.

I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction at the look on their faces, as they suddenly found themselves completely bereft of subordinates. Keeping my gaze away from the carnage with a supreme effort of will, I walked slowly toward them, a small smile on my face. It was good, so good, to face an enemy that threatened what I loved and know that this time, without a doubt I was the stronger! I couldn't contain my glee, it flooded my veins with a rolling ebullience that left me almost giddy.

"What's the matter, boys? Afraid of having your ass handed to you by a girl?" I taunted, warming up to my role. Both scowled at me with nearly identical looks of barely repressed rage. My eyes took in the cybernetic limbs and ocular implant worn by Frieza. He must have gotten very lucky, managing to survive at all if Goku had messed him up that badly. "Hey Frieza, I see you've had some work done." I tilted my head, as if contemplating something. "I must say it's an improvement..."

He launched himself at me, as I'd known he would. As he approached, I released my aura, flaring into Super. "The guy who did that, he didn't look anything like this, did he?" I was rewarded by his sudden stop, terror flickering across his features before he could mask it.

"Super Saiyajin," he muttered. To his credit, he stood his ground, swiftly cloaking himself in arrogant assurance. "No matter. I'm much stronger now; neither he nor you will stand a chance, bitch."

I indulged him for a moment, effortlessly dodging his increasingly furious attacks as I tried to rally my courage. Part of me was shocked by the bloodlust within, and quailed inwardly at the merciless killing I'd already done...but the rest of me knew that I could afford no mercy, and none would have been afforded me or my people. I'd already faltered once, before the kill, and it had cost me the victory. Once again, I had to do what no one else could, it was up to me, and if I couldn't stomach it we would all die. Better to have two more deaths on my conscience than billions. At least Frieza and his father didn't pretend to look human. And he killed your father, I reminded myself. It was enough. Coolly and methodically, I sliced him up into tiny pieces and incinerated what remained.

And then there were two.

I faced Cold alone on a narrow ledge. I felt fear radiating from him in waves as I approached, but no hint of it touched his face. I only wanted it to be over. I could already feel the reaction to so much violence beginning to set in, the slight tremor in my hands, the rising nausea. If I were going to lose my breakfast I wanted to get it over with before the spectators arrived. I sensed them nearby, watching from behind a ridge to the south.

"I see that you are truly powerful," he rumbled. "What would you say, if I offered to set you on the throne, heir to the Cold Empire?" I kept walking, ignoring the pointless question. He must have realized that I had no interest in anything he could offer, and changed tactics, trying to gain an advantage that would let him get out of this alive. "Pathetic little chit. I bet you aren't so great without that sword of yours. Why don't you fight me without the blade, or are you too afraid--"

He shut up as I cleaved his head from his shoulders. I could have beaten him minus the blade, blindfolded and with my hands tied behind my back, but I had nothing to prove to him. As the two parts of him hit the ground, I turned and retched, visibly shaking from the aftershock. Levitating down to a bare patch of ground near where I'd sensed the others, I tried to regather my thoughts, to plan out my next move, but instead I sank to the ground and heaved again, until nothing came up. I was still on my knees when they got there. I glanced up to see a semicircle of faces, some curious, some awed, and one with a look of disgust, presumably at my weak stomach. My cheeks burned with shame as I drew myself unsteadily to my feet.

Was that him? I knew his face as soon as I saw it; I couldn't say how or why. Right now it looked like it wanted to rip my head off. Storming over to me, he demanded, "Who the hell are you? You can't be Saiyajin!" He paced around me like a stalking panther, growling, "There are only two of us left, two and a half if you count that brat of Kakarot's, and there sure as hell weren't any females left living, Frieza made sure of that!"

The raging undercurrent of malice and envy in his low voice shivered my spine, and I had to steel myself not to flinch from his heated glare. We were of a height so I simply stared back at him, unable, for the moment, to speak. "Um."

"Vegeta! Back off! You're scaring her, and you really should be thanking her, you ungrateful lout." A fluffy cloud of blue hair floated toward me, my mother's face beneath it. I could only stare in amazement, and try to keep a straight face. It was nearly impossible, the stress had me stretched taught as a bowstring, waiting to let an arrow fly, and the built up tension begged to be released, laughter bubbling up in my throat. Oh, was I going to have a talk with her when I got back.

She stepped between us, and poked a finger into his chest until he stepped back, scowling even more furiously, if that were possible. This drew my attention to the fact that he was wearing a pink shirt, and I got the distinct impression that he wasn't all that happy about it. That was more than I could handle. I laughed until I nearly cried, while they all gaped at me like I was an idiot. With some effort, I managed to rein in the slightly hysterical giggles and gasp an apology, "I'm sorry...please forgive me." I bowed. "Please, I'm here to see Goku, he'll be joining us shortly. Would you like to wait with me?" There were some surprised murmurs. I unencapsulated a mini-fridge and offered them some drinks, popping the top on the first thing I grabbed, desperate to rid my mouth of the lingering foul taste of blood-rage and sickness.

"Do you know my father?" The smallest figure stepped up, and I had to catch my breath suddenly as the ebullient joy threatened to roll over into stormy tears.

Gohan. Only eight, or perhaps nine, but there was no mistaking who he was. I wanted to catch him up in my arms and hug him, screaming, "You're alive!", but managed to rein in the insane impulse and smile at him instead. "No, Gohan, he's a friend of a friend. I have a message for him, though."

Without thinking, I handed him an orange soda. I couldn't stand the fake citrusy taste, but he loved the horrid stuff. Slightly surprised, he grinned. "Hey, thanks!"

Even his smile was the same, on this little face, smooth and as yet unblemished by the scars that were so familiar to me. I wanted desperately to clasp it between my hands and cover every inch with kisses, to wrap my arms tightly around him and never let go. Somehow, I managed to tear my gaze away, before they all began to think it odd that I'd been staring so intently and with such open longing at him, as though he were my long-lost child. He laughed then, at something one of the others said, and I consoled myself with the music of it dancing in my ears: mellifluous and warm, innocent and pure, an unadulterated sound of joy that not even the horrors of the world we lived in had ever been able to mar or tarnish. The pitch was higher and more childlike, but all else was identical to the laugh I grew up with. I'd almost forgotten just how much I'd missed it, for three long years, wondering if I'd ever hear it again -- and now I was, but not in the way I'd imagined, not in the way I'd most wanted, and hot tears sprung unbidden to my eyes from the bittersweet irony of it.

And then without warning the tangled confusion of emotion drained suddenly out of me, my knees threatening to buckle. I had to sit down quickly on a nearby rock, large and flat and warmed by the sun. I closed my eyes and stretched out, trying not to squirm under the piercing gaze of the fierce black eyes that never left me. Someone sat next to me...my mother. Her presence was calming even if she didn't know who I was.

Eventually, curiosity won out over weariness, and I opened my eyes to study the faces around me. My gaze lingered longest on my father, trying to memorize every detail, searching for a hint of myself in his features.

"What the hell are you staring at?"

Was he always such an ass? Irritated, I wanted to ask him who he was to talk, but instead counted to ten and reminded myself that from what I'd heard he was a very proud man and I'd likely rubbed salt in an open wound by going Super Saiyajin right in front of him. And I really, really didn't want to fight with him. I managed a reluctant "Sorry."

He harrumphed and turned away.

"Don't mind him." Bulma patted my arm and winked at me. "So, what's your name?" It was so odd, to be sitting here gazing at my mom when she was barely older than me. Her clear blue gaze was frank and inquisitive, openly taking my measure, but friendly nonetheless.

I gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I really can't tell you."

She looked a little disappointed, but masked it well. "Can you tell me where you're from?"

I shook my head.

"What about how old you are? Do you work for my father?" Her sharp eyes hadn't missed the Capsule Corp logo on my jacket, and I cursed myself inwardly for forgetting about it, and my mother as well. I couldn't believe we'd made such a glaring oversight.

"Not exactly," I managed. "But I'm eighteen."

"Oh." And she smiled warmly at me, in spite of her obvious curiosity. I knew that it must have been eating her alive; my mother never liked to be in the dark about something, but she was polite enough to let it drop, and to chide the others for pressing me further. Vegeta sat well apart from everyone else, ignoring us all as though he'd chosen independently of the rest of us to spend the day sitting out in the middle of nowhere.

Finally, when the tension was just short of forcing me to pull my hair out one strand at a time, Goku arrived, quite literally 'with a bang'. We all stood at the edge of the smoking crater to watch him emerge from the ship, the others poorly masking furtive glances of surprise in my direction. He was dressed very strangely, but I hardly noticed; I was too enthralled in staring at this man who was Gohan's father. Gohan had been all rippling muscle and tight sinew, but though he matched this man in height he had yet to have grown into his father's powerful breadth of chest, shoulder and back. Their faces weren't identical, but the resemblance was striking enough that my body reacted instinctively to him anyway, bringing a slight blush to my cheeks.

Great first impression, Bra. You might as well just swoon into a puddle of goo at his feet like some silly vapid teenager. Have you forgotten why you're here?

I stepped forward. "Son Goku?" I asked formally, though there was no doubt in my mind that the legend stood here before me, in the flesh.

He eyed me levelly, his frank gaze of appraisal openly taking my measure. "So it was you then, that power I felt?"

"Yes."

He cracked a wide, toothy grin, "I bet Frieza wasn't happy to get beaten by a girl!"

The tension crumbled as everyone started laughing and welcoming back their long-absent friend. Everyone, that is, except for Vegeta, who growled angrily at Goku's quip and stood apart from the rest with his arms crossed forebodingly across his chest.

My hopes of any kind of pleasant interaction with my father plummeted at the blazing look in his eyes, the seamlessly shielded expression on his face telling me plainly that there was less than no chance of that. I had unintentionally shamed him three times over: by being more powerful than he, at a younger age, and then by being a female on top of that. No one else cared aside from him, but this proud man could see my abilities as nothing else other than a slap in the face, a humiliating blow to his vaunted pride.

I hadn't known until just that moment how much I wanted him to be proud of me. True, I had often wondered as I trained with Gohan if the father I'd never known could see me from where he was, if he was proud of the fighter that his daughter had sacrificed so much to become. Every time I reached my limits and pushed beyond them, I wondered, Did he see? I'd always thought of it as just the wistful fancy of a fatherless child. But now the real thing stood before me, living flesh and blood and proud unyielding fire. Nothing had prepared me for the actuality of him. Goku may have towered over him in physical height, but my father was every inch a prince, and his untamed presence filled the air around him. He was all iron will and tempered steel. Anything he set his mind to, he would have.

Ruefully, I forced myself to get to the business at hand. "Goku-san, may I speak with you?"

Goku raised his eyebrows. "Sure. Over there?"

Over the protests of the others, we flew to a spot still in sight of the rest but well out of earshot. We stood staring at each other a moment as I collected my scattered thoughts, Goku politely waiting for me to speak.

Well, no use beating around the bush, I supposed. I flared into Super Saiyajin, smiling at the familiar rolling warmth of bright flamelets of power trailing over my skin. I stated the obvious. "I'm a Super Saiyajin, too."

"Woah! You look just like me!" At my slightly affronted look he added lamely, "Er, except female, of course. Heh."

I had to see him in action, to know that this costly trip through time might make a difference. "Please power up."

He shrugged, and did so. "Okay--"

As he finished the transformation I drew the sword and lunged at him in one quicksilver-swift motion, halting a hair's breadth from his head. He didn't flinch a millimeter.

Frustrated, I blurted, "Aren't you going to dodge?!"

He smirked a little. "I could tell that you weren't serious."

"I'm serious now," I growled, a little petulantly.

"Okay."

This time, when I moved, he countered so quickly I almost missed the motion with my eyes. With only two extended fingers, he effortlessly parried each sweep of my blade, until I laughed in delight and powered down.

"You're amazing," I said.

"You too." he returned.

I took a deep breath. "I can power up to Super because I'm half Saiyajin, like Gohan. Vegeta is my father."

Goku's mouth dropped open. "Vegeta is a dad? He never told us he had a kid!" Then he frowned, visibly trying to do the math in his head.

"No, Goku-san. He doesn't yet. I'm from the future."

Understandably he looked dubious, but there was pretty strong demi-Saiyajin evidence staring him in the face, red hair glowing golden and unwavering turquoise eyes meeting his own. "Um."

"Let me explain a bit more."

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I watched them fight from across the gorge, barely able to follow the lightning-quick dance of attack and counterattack, and only with a supreme effort of will did I manage to rein in my raging anger and refrain from losing any more face than I already had in front of those other weaklings. That strange woman dared to glance at me once with a hint of what might have been concern in her eyes, though she wisely turned away quickly at my inflamed snarl of rage. I still hadn't decided whether her presence here indicated staunch bravery or sheer stupidity. I was leaning toward the latter.

This newcomer made my blood boil, standing nonchalantly in front of my greatest enemy and decimating him and his father with less exertion than I would use to squash a bothersome bug. She continued to irritate me, this mere chit who had been no more than a mewling babe when I was conquering entire solar systems, by being a Super Saiyajin before even the age or twenty, well before a Saiyajin usually comes into his or her full power...meaning that she would be more powerful still. Worse even than that, she was female. The Saiyajin no Ouji had been made many times to swallow his pride before the heir to the Cold Empire, and had been handed a devastating loss by a third-class nothing who should have been drowned at birth, but he had never before had to concede anything to a female.

I cursed her silently in my head, uttering every venomous epithet I knew while my fingernails drew blood where they pierced my palms, the only visible manifestation of my fury. Bad enough that I had to contend with that endlessly irritating Kakarot, now I would also be haunted continuously by the glowing image of this girl, lissome and fleet, always running one step ahead of me.

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I scratched my head absently as she told me her story, almost too incredible to be true. The devastated look in her eyes as she tonelessly spoke of the world's decline into total chaos removed any doubt I might have had, though. That, and the fact that she was very obviously Saiyajin.

I took the vial that she offered, still absorbing all that she had said. Vegeta's daughter. Androids. A heart virus. Everyone dying, except for her and Gohan and their mothers.

Gohan--

"What about my son?" I asked forcefully. "Why didn't he come with you?"

She flinched, and the cool exterior she'd been trying to maintain crumbled into dust. Tears filled her eyes, and her voice was husky when she said, "Gohan couldn't come. His last fight with them messed him up pretty bad."

I knew suddenly that this poor girl had been much more than my son's student. I placed a hand on her shoulder. "Gohan's a tough one. He'll make it."

She looked up at me, smiling through her tears, and it was easy to see how she'd captured my son's heart. "I hope so," was all that she said, a world of emotion poured into three small words.

She looked so familiar..."Your mother," I broke in suddenly. "Do I know her?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "My mother is--"

"Bulma. Oh my gosh," I gasped, as I fell over laughing. Poor Vegeta.

Her eyes widened almost comically. "How did you know?"

"I grew up with her. Except for the color of your hair and eyes, you're a carbon copy of her at that age." That said, I went back to laughing uncontrollably for a minute. Oh wow, those two together. I wonder how the world survived it.

"Ahem." She stared down at me, unamused.

"Heh. Sorry. But how in the world did that happen? We all thought she'd marry Yamucha..."

"Mom won't really talk about it...I think that she still misses him, and it makes her sad. All I know is that she and Yamucha will break up shortly, and that she and my father will be together for a little while, until the androids come."

It still blew my mind. "Woah. So your name is...?"

"Bra." She grabbed my hand. "Goku-san. You can't tell them, or I might never be." Her pale eyes were solemn.

I grinned at her. "Got it. You can count on us, Bra. We'll beat them."

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I wanted to hug him then, on impulse, so strongly did he radiate quiet confidence and a steadying calm that promised to take care of everything. It had been missing in my life for so long, ever since Gohan left to walk alone in a faraway place that I couldn't touch. But it would have been one more log on the blazing flame of my father's enmity, so I didn't. Instead, I waved good-bye to all of them and climbed into the ship as fast as possible, suddenly wanting to be far away from the black-eyed fury of the one figure not waving back.

I tried not to cry, as I left. I at least managed to rein in the tears until I was sure that they couldn't see them from the ground. My father hated the sight of me. But...maybe next time. Maybe something in my mother would get to him, and in three years when I returned he would be different, just a little, just enough that he would fill this aching void in my heart that I had only just now realized the true depths of. I knew before I came that I'd want something from him, some kind of recognition or acceptance, but I hadn't known until the instant of meeting him just how much I'd want it. Loneliness and an agonized yearning ate me alive, the arms I wrapped desperately around myself doing nothing to abate the onslaught of emotion. The return trip was cold and unnerving, unsettling visions dancing across the glass, and I shut my eyes tightly against them, waiting with every muscle tensed for it to be over.

She was waiting for me, as I'd known she would be, tearing out of the house at a dead run with Chichi and her father a careful distance behind. Wordlessly, she opened her arms to me, the heartbroken desolation in her blue eyes gone pale grey answering the question I couldn't even draw breath to ask.

I fell out of the machine into her embrace, my despair mirroring her own as it sunk in that all of our risk and effort had been in vain, at least for us. With Gohan still lying in a sleep only one step removed from death, my reality was all that I could spare any emotion for. The idea of a peaceful future for another timeline was no comfort at all. We'd done everything we could, we'd tried so hard, and it still wasn't enough. Everyone was still dead, and the beautiful smile I'd foolishly allowed myself to imagine seeing when I returned would never again shine upon me, trapped forever behind lips stilled in endless slumber.

Hope is what hurts. Letting yourself believe that maybe your dreams have a chance to come true. That's what pain really is.

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End Chapter 3

Yes, I know, Bad Sango, taking forever to update *again*. I really am sorry. I just want everything to be perfect and I'm a slow writer in the best of times, and molasses running uphill in winter when work keeps me as busy as it has been. Rest assured though that I will see this fic through to the end, and I will be happy to email anyone that asks when I post new chapters. Hope you enjoyed this one :)

~Sango (sango_chan@hotmail.com)