Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Stargazing ❯ Love's First Kiss ( Chapter 9 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Stargazing

Chapter 9 - Love's First Kiss

The fine, upper-crust society of trendy West City had tolerated Takeda Ken's mood swings, eccentricity, and paranoia for far more years than many could remember. His gnarled, misshapen appearance and his tendency to dress in little more than foul rags would have, had it been anyone else, warranted immediate and thorough expulsion from the wealthy boulevard on which his small store sat. And yet, despite his shortcomings, this antisocial, decaying man was known by all in Japan to be the sole proprietor of one of the oldest and most exclusive shops in the world.

It really was amazing how much people and society were willing to overlook in the presence of true brilliance. But then again they had no choice but to do so, for Takeda was a man of truly irreplaceable talents. And young Yasukawa Shinta was proud to be able to call himself the first, last, and only apprentice that this great master would ever take. He therefore took great care in following all of his orders promptly, going about his work with a single-mindedness that belied his commitment to his apprenticeship and his own talent as well.

Striding purposefully into his mentor's study, Shinta cleared his throat as a way of announcing his presence.

“Takeda-sensei.”

“What is it?” the old man snapped, not bothering to look up from his work. “I asked not to be disturbed.”

“Vejita-oujisama is here to see you, sir. It's urgent.”

The wizened old man's beady eyes narrowed at the news.

“Oh?” he said with interest. “What is it that brings our esteemed prince all the way down here in person? Could it be he has something more to ask of me? How curious,” he muttered under his breath, “very curious...”

Shinta looked at his mentor expectantly, then cleared his throat again.

“Sir...”

Takeda snapped out of his mental reverie. “Yes, yes, of course, Shinta,” he said with renewed vigor. “Let us not keep our Vejita-oujisama waiting. You know how impatient he gets.”

“Yes, sir.”

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Of all the times that Takeda Ken had met Prince Vejita in person, he had never ceased to wonder what it was that irrevocably drew him to the man's presence. Perhaps the secret lay in the fact that the surly prince had a surprisingly magnetic bearing for someone of such small stature - he had a real gravity about the way he carried himself that demanded complete obedience and respect even from the most socially immune of men. There was always a certain effortlessness about the way he spoke, or the way he stood - and even in the way that he was so blatantly arrogant - that made Takeda feel incompetent, as if he were but a small child begging for an adult's praise and acceptance. And yet despite the much more than adequate results of the old man's work, the prince remained as aloof and implacable as ever, as if he were timelessly trapped in a state of battle - calculating, ruthless, and cold. He was, as far as Takeda could tell, a very dangerous man, difficult to please and extremely sharp - both physically and intuitively - and not afraid to respond in kind when provoked. The old man was not stupid. To displease a warrior of Vejita's caliber...

That would be paramount to suicide.

It was with this lasting thought that Takeda met Vejita again for the third time in his career, brown eyes clashing on inky black as the surly prince stood in his classic stance in the middle of the secluded shop - arms crossed and back straight and proud, not so much as batting an eyelash as master and apprentice appeared. Again, as if time had been rewound back to the moment he had met the prince for the first time, Takeda found it ridiculously difficult to speak coherently in the man's intimidating presence and stumbled, embarrassed, on his words.

“Veji... Vejita-oujisama,” he managed to croak.

The only reaction was a brief flash of recognition in the bottomless pools of onyx that were this ruthless man's eyes.

“Takeda. I have a request.”

The underlying tone of his deep, commanding voice made Takeda realize that the statement was not so much a request as an order.

“Ye... yes, sir?”

“You are to commission for me another piece.”

“Of course, sir. Do you... do you have any specifications, sir?”

“Several. As for the first... you are to use... this.”

He held out his hand, and resting lightly in the middle of his gloved palm was a stone of whose like Takeda had never seen before. It was flat, shaped circularly in the same manner of a medallion, with a strange coloring that glowed so brilliantly that it seemed the stone was lit up from within. So strange and so bright was this beautiful artifact that even in the poor lighting of the dusty room, master jeweler Takeda Ken could see its intricate design.

It was a ten-point star colored a brilliant gold that shone as luminescent as the sun, set on a background of turquoise so deep and so mysteriously rich that it seemed to contain enough secrets to fill an entire ocean...

Takeda's mind buzzed with excitement and then shock. He knew these colors, as rare and unique as they were, in these very same shades.

He had seen them before.

The only question was - how?

Suddenly, his eyes widened in recognition.

He had last seen them over thirty years ago, on a young boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen. Even with the bad static of the television set, Ken had been able to tell that this boy - young man, really - who stood so proudly and imposingly in the center a veritable wasteland...

He'd had real power.

He'd had cold, turquoise eyes, and despite their hard, frosty glare, the coloring was somehow soft at the same time - it was warm, encouraging, friendly - and alive.

And his hair - such strange locks of pure gold - it was a crime to call them blond given the way that they positively glowed with light. This boy was a creature like no other that Ken had ever seen, and he knew - with some long buried instinct - that this young warrior would protect what was his, at all costs - or he would die trying.

He had seemed so bold and unflinching despite his young age, standing like a firm stone unyielding in the center of a terrible tempest. And he hadn't moved at all, not even as he stared down the frightening creature who had threatened their planet and froze Takeda's blood cold...

The monster known as Cell.

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Pan stretched luxuriously in her bed, grunting in pleasure as several of her joints popped. Yawning slightly, the demi-saiyan turned onto her side and smiled contently as she felt two strong arms circle around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively snuggled closer to the warm body behind her, and her smile grew wider - she loved spending mornings like this: in bed, with him. It never failed to make her feel as if she truly belonged here, and it gave her the wonderful sensation of being loved, content, and safe.

“Morning, beautiful.”

“Morning, blondie.”

She felt his deep voice reverberate in his chest as he chuckled quietly.

“I thought I told you not to call me that anymore. It ruins my image.”

She smirked. “Oh, really? And what image would that be?”

“That I'm a devastatingly attractive and extremely cool guy - not a prancing, hair-flipping female strumpet on heels,” he replied deadpan.

Pan bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“I don't know, you've got pretty girly arms, you know...”

His arms tightened around her waist as he growled, and she soon found herself pinned on her back by the weight of his body. His eyes danced mischievously as he smirked at her - to which she responded by lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed - and he moved his sculpted arms to hold hers down gently but firmly. With him on top of her, their faces only inches apart, it was, in general, a rather suggestive position despite the fact that both parties involved were fully clothed.

“Take it back,” he demanded playfully.

“Fine, fine, I take it back, sunshine. You'd make an ugly woman, anyway,” she added with mock sincerity.

“I'll take that as a compliment, then,” he said in a slightly strangled voice, choking on his laughter.

His eyes lit up with mirth.

“So... let's see what these girly arms of mine can whip up for breakfast, eh?”

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Pan stabbed her fork through three whole pancakes and somehow - Charles wasn't sure how she managed it - crammed the entire stack into her mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, she swallowed and allowed herself another generous bite. Charles tried desperately not to stare. Even after all this time, it was hard to get used to her rather... strange... eating habits.

His wandering mind was brought back to Earth as Pan waved her fork in his direction, eyes flashing playfully.

“Your pancakes suck, man. Mine are so much better,” she commented lightly.

Charles' eyebrow twitched.

“It's nice to know my hard work is appreciated,” he responded mildly.

“I mean, come on. Everyone knows that you have to whip the batter an extra minute or so in order to make them nice and fluffy. Who taught you to cook, anyway?” she asked carelessly, licking the extra syrup off her fingers.

He tried valiantly to ignore her provoking. She was doing this on purpose, he knew. They always played around like this, baiting each other. He wasn't going to let her win, not this time.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?”

Charles pretended he hadn't heard her and feigned that he was absorbed in the morning paper. He took a nice, leisurely sip from his mug of hot chocolate just to show her how not irritated he was. True enough to his expectations, this didn't please the fiery woman sitting across the table from him.

“Charles!” she demanded, allowing a certain amount of irritation to seep into her voice. “Are you ignoring me?”

Again she was answered with silence. Charles didn't so much as blink. He continued reading his newspaper, seemingly content not to speak.

“Oi! Are you even alive?”

Charles merely rustled the pages of the paper and pulled it up to cover the smirk that was slowly forming on his lips. Unfortunately, he didn't do so fast enough. Pan snorted mentally and decided that if Charles was having this much fun pushing her buttons, it was time to bring out the big guns.

She stood up from the breakfast table in mock defeat.

“Well, clearly,” she began slowly, “I can see my company is not wanted here. I think I'll just go home. Do you think your doorman will be willing to call up a cab for me?”

“Given the fact that he's hopelessly infatuated with you, I'd say yes.”

Pan smiled sweetly. “Great. Well, I'll just go get my stuff, then. Don't bother getting up to see me off, I'll see you when you get back next week. Have fun on your trip to the States!”

With that, she sauntered out of the kitchen towards the bedroom to gather her things. Charles tried not to let that bother him.

`I give it three seconds,' Pan thought mischievously as she sat neatly on his unmade bed, arms crossed. It was hard not to laugh evilly, but she managed it.

One...

She heard Charles cough lightly in the next room.

Two...

The paper rustled slightly. Cocking her head to the side, Pan focused her hearing and could make up the tapping of Charles' foot as he fidgeted.

Three!

The sound of a chair being pushed back, a few hurried steps, and there he was, looking rather flustered, in the doorway of his room.

She smiled brightly.

“Oh, hello! And who might you be?”

He walked over to the bed and sat next to her, wedging his arm around her waist in a placating manner. After pondering briefly on how to best return into her good graces without giving in, Charles decided that it was impossible. He'd have to lose. Again.

“You said you would take me to the airport,” he grumbled sullenly, resting his head on her shoulder.

She laughed.

“I was only joking, you big oaf. Of course I'm taking you to the airport. Who else is going to make sure you don't get lost or attacked or something equally terrifying? Somebody has to protect you - you big softy, you.”

He grinned boyishly.

“I knew I could count on you.”

Pan grinned back. He responded by giving her puppy dog eyes, and she knew he was going to say something exceedingly mushy.

“Will you miss me?”

She lifted an eyebrow and looked at him sardonically. The puppy-dog eyes persisted, though, and in the end she gave him a reluctant affirmative answer.

He wasn't satisfied, though. He could sense that somehow, for some reason, she was holding back.

“Really?” he asked again, not joking anymore. He looked her in the eye, his smile gone.

Pan could tell he was serious now. He always got serious when he started to feel insecure about the way she felt about him. And he had good reason to be, too, because she always held back. She wasn't stupid or naïve. She knew it made him feel uncomfortable, which in turn made her feel guilty. But it couldn't be helped - she was getting over something big, and she needed time. She didn't want her old flame for Trunks to ruin her relationship with Charles, who she genuinely liked.

The question was, after all this time, after three years of space travel and isolation, after over a month of being officially together with Charles, had it been long enough for her feelings for Trunks to die out?

`Well,' Pan finally decided. `I think it's about time we find out.'

And, after hesitating only a fraction of a second, she leaned over slowly and took Charles' lips gently with her own.

It was exactly how she thought her first kiss would be - light, short, and pure. The kiss itself was unremarkable, but the rest of it - how her heart wouldn't stop thumping in her chest, how he reached over and stroked her cheek lovingly, how he sucked in his breath in surprise and elation as she initiated it - it was wonderful. It made her feel so peaceful, warm, and full of love.

When they pulled apart, Charles saw Pan flustered and blushing for the first time. Her hair was out of place, her lips rosy, and her cheeks flaming red...

And he couldn't help but think that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He broken out of his reverie, however, when Pan spoke.

“So... does that answer your question?”

Their eyes met, and they both smiled genuinely. Charles pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head.

“Yea, I guess it does.”

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It seemed that as soon as Charles left on his business trip, things at home took a turn for the worse. No sooner had I seen him off at the airport did every news report in the vicinity of West City begin forecasting a terrible thunderstorm headed our way. It was almost as the weather was reflecting my mood - now that Charles would be gone for a week, I was left feeling strangely turbulent. I felt as if I had a gigantic reservoir of pent up energy in me - and I was, I admit, a completely insufferable asshole for the rest of the day.

Well, I was... at least until I went to burn off some of that energy by sparring with Vejita, and subsequently got my ass pounded.

That night, the storm came. It was something straight out of a horror movie - howling winds, pelting drops of rain, lightning and thunder clashing in the sky, and rolling gray clouds on the horizon. I lay in my capsule house, tossing and turning in bed, not able to sleep, and finally I gave up. There was something strange going on. The atmosphere was charged, electric - magnetic. My instincts were going haywire - every part of my body was telling me to get the hell out of bed and go outside.

After trying to prevent the inevitable for an hour or so, the feeling inside me grew. There was no way I could ignore it now, so I rolled out of bed, dressed in a comfortable gi and tank top, and ran out into the rain barefoot.

Dende it was cold! The wind positively screeched as it blasted past my ears and blew my hair wildly around my face, and as the rain soaked me to the bone. With the alternating sights and sounds of the lightning and thunder, and with the pouring rain running down my face and into my eyes, I could hardly see. Blinded and deafened and frozen by the terrible storm, I gave into my instincts, flared my ki, and blasted into the sky.

The feeling of flying in the gray storm clouds was incredible. Searing bolts of lightning grazed past me, the roar of the thunder swallowed the pattering sound of the rain effortlessly, and despite the fact that I was freezing and had no idea where I was going, I had no care in the world as I soared towards my unknown destination, my eyes closed as I was driven by instinct. Then, finally, almost an hour into my impromptu excursion in the storm, I knew I had made it.

I looked up, and there, a dark silhouette in the pattering rain, was Trunks. Somehow, for some reason, I wasn't surprised to see him here. It seemed to be the same for him also, because as I floated up to hang in the air directly next to him, his expression didn't change. We only looked at each other in mutual understanding and raised our heads to look up at the clouds, waiting patiently for something I didn't understand.

It seemed an eternity that we stayed there, suspended in the air hundreds of feet above the ground, both of us soaked, cold, and driven by a force neither of us understood. And yet nobody moved. We simply continued looking at the clouds, not bothering to dodge as bolts of lightning nearly struck us, not pausing to blink even as the rain poured down our faces and into our eyes - staring, not thinking, waiting, just waiting for something as the feeling in both of us grew stronger, more fierce.

I remember thinking that I wouldn't be able to take much more of this. This unknown drive, this strange ballooning in my chest, it was rising in a crescendo that was almost painful to bear. My heart was positively drumming with excitement, and I had ceased hearing the thunder as I could only make out a throbbing humming in my ears. As a sense of urgency overtook me, and as I began grinding my teeth together in an effort to contain this unbelievable feeling - knowing, not seeing, that Trunks was doing the same beside me - it happened.

The clouds parted, and in that small patch of clear sky, the two of us were bathed in the pale light of the perfect full moon.

I don't know who threw the first punch. Both of us started simultaneously, probably. But all I knew was that suddenly, everything that I had felt up to that point - all of the agitation, the pent up energy, the insane, indescribable feeling that had been driving me crazy all day - it was all coming out now. The two of us danced a veritable dance of death, trading blows that could have shattered concrete, meeting each other punch for punch, kick for kick. Neither was doing any damage to the other, but then that wasn't the point - we weren't fighting to win, we weren't thinking strategy - we didn't even think of this as a fight.

It was just...

Us.

Two Saiyans, on a planet full of humans, driven by the same instinct on the same night to the same spot in the sky.

Fighting, in the light of the full moon, for the chance to prove that we were so much more than what the rest of the planet saw us as.

We were warriors... aliens.

Saiyans.

And then, as are fight approached its climax, and as I pushed my power level beyond anything I had ever reached before, I began to push Trunks back. None of my hits landed, but I had him on the defensive now, and my heart filled with a ferocity that I had never known before. I struck his blocking arms hard, blow after blow sending off huge waves of energy as I connected, and as I raised my fist one last time, heart filled with excitement and eyes triumphant, he turned the tide.

There was a brief flash of light, and he went Super.

And I was powerless.

We stopped fighting, then. Hanging in the sky a mere foot apart, our kis - his gold and mine blue - melted together as one, and the two of us stood and simply stared at each other, content to bathe in the light of the moon. The feeling was returning again - in both of us, I could tell - that same feeling of anxiousness, of urgency - that instinct was once again building. His teal eyes locked onto my black - and suddenly, mutually, we came to an understanding.

Neither of us would wait for it to climax again.

Neither of us gave it a second thought as we moved, as one, towards each other, and crushed our lips together.

This kiss - it was everything it shouldn't have been. Not even close to what the soft, innocent, loving kiss that I had shared with Charles had been like, this kiss was instead scorching, wet, hungry, and raw. It was driven by instinct, need, desperation - passion. Never had I felt like this before, his chiseled lips on mine, the feeling of his firm body pressed up against me, my hands tangled in the wet locks of his hair...

We shared this short moment of bliss, and then the two of us broke apart, panting, and consciousness - and thought - returned at once.

The moonlight was no more. The clouds, once more obscuring the source of our recklessness, returned us to Earth.

We stared at each other for one moment, and then at the same time blasted away in opposite directions, flying away from this memorable spot as if our lives depended on it.

When I finally got back to my space capsule, I stumbled into the main hangar and fell to my knees. The door shut closed with a whoosh, but I paid it no mind as I kneeled there, sopping wet and immeasurably cold, on the floor.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop time and just think. But I couldn't. Even in the dark, all my mind could see was the searing teal of his eyes.

This...

Dende... what just happened?

I don't think I can forget this.

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Author's Note: Woo hoo! I finally finished this chapter! You have no idea how long this has been in the making - about eight months, in fact. I was torn between doing it this way or another way, and after contemplating for about six months, I finally made up my mind. So here it is, and I'm so very sorry for the delay. I know it was long. Thanks to everyone for your reviews - I really appreciate the support.

I just want to briefly comment on the medallion that was finally described in this chapter. If there are any die-hard DBZ fans out there, they'll recognize it as the same stone that Vejita-ou wore when he confronted Frieza. (If you look carefully at that episode, the stone I'm talking about is used to pin up his cape. It falls off and clatters to the ground when he's killed.)

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To Lorok: To answer your question about my previous rant, I just want to clarify that the mispronunciation of Pan's name is not a translation fluke. It has nothing to do with something that can't be helped when you're changing Japanese dialogue to English dialogue. It has only to do with the fact that FUNimation deemed it necessary to change the pronunciation of the character's name. This was something that could have easily been kept as it was in the original, yet the American dub did not for unfathomable reasons. That is the problem that I have with the dub, not because "pan" is a better pronunciation than "pawn" or whatnot. The idea is that the creator pronounced her name as "pawn" because it's supposed to be a playoff on the Japanese word for "bread". (Get it? Pan, a.k.a. “bread,” is the daughter of Gohan, which means “rice”.) By changing the pronunciation, not only have you destroyed that spoof, but you've created a completely new and irrelevant one.

You also argued that calling a character something akin to "skillet" is not as bad as having a whole family (the Briefs) named after underwear. I don't have a problem with naming a character after a frying pan. That's not the point. The point is the creator's intent. The Briefs are so named because it's a joke. They're supposed to be named after underwear. Why else is Bulma named after woman's underwear, Trunks named after men's underwear, and Bra named after, well, bras? It's humor. (Crude humor, yes, but that's besides the point.) And if you know Toriyama's style, that crude humor has been his trademark since the very beginning of the Dragonball series. While FUNimation has kept Bulma and Trunks' names, they've called Bra "Bulla" (pronounced BUH-l-la) which sounds really ugly, but I can understand that change because calling a character "bra" on a show viewed primarily by the youth would be rather inappropriate. However, there is no such argument for the change in Pan's name, which is what bothered me.

I hope I've answered your question thoroughly, and I hope I haven't offended you. Sometimes I can get overexcited about these things. ^_^ Thanks for taking the time to comment on my story.

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Disclaimer: Any and all characters belonging to Dragonball/Z/GT are the legal property of Toriyama Akira and/or FUNimation.