Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Prince and Princess Diaries ❯ Zettai Shin-e ( Chapter 15 )

Chapter Fifteen: Zettai Shin-e (Never Die)

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The steady weight in her hands. The feeling of smooth steel slashing through the air. The incredible sensation of being all-powerful.

Bulma loved it.

She had been practicing for over three hours now, and she was completely drenched in sweat. She could feel her tired muscles straining, cramping as they pleaded to her for a break. The feeling was so wonderful, so exhilarating, that she never wanted to stop.

The small wooden post she was standing on was smaller than her foot, and her thigh muscles in her right leg were screaming for a time-out. She switched to her other leg, and it felt much better. You can only stand on one leg so long before you feel like collapsing.

Balancing herself perfectly on the wooden post buried deep into the ground, she started her basic maneuvers once again. Counting in time with her movements, she moved easily and smoothly.

After a while, she started thinking about other, more substantial things. For one, she wished that she could do this in public like men. Another thing, she wished she had a partner to spar with. She missed Chichi dreadfully, and now when she wanted a good sword fight, she had no one to do it with. The loss of her best friend hit her very hard right then.

She felt tears spring to her eyes, but she blinked them away and started hacking furiously at the air-her invisible opponent.

Simulating a partner was difficult, but she got the hang of it after a while. She visualized her make-believe rival, his moves and steps, and countered them with her own. Soon, with the sun setting and the moon appearing high above her, she was doing a dance of deadly, perfect steps. It was the most extraordinary, free feeling in the world.

She was in deep concentration when she jerked at a sudden sound at the door. It was locked, of course, for men were not allowed to see her thus. Being caught using a sword, although most already knew, was not a good idea. Not to mention her state of dress-pants and a shirt.

She calmly sheathed her sword in its silver scabbard at the continued knocking. Annoyed, she moved toward the door and ripped it open, intending to scold the person behind it for disturbing her personal sanctum. However, at the sight of three of the queen's ladies-in-waiting illegally outside sobbing and panicking, Bulma felt her throat clutch and her stomach lurch. They had done this before when the queen had been in the middle of one of her bad moments, but somehow...somehow this felt different.

Bulma asked no questions, just tore through the young girls and ran to the queen's suite. Men that were about in the halls stirred at the sight of her and began murmuring amongst themselves.

Various scenarios flashed through her mind, all terrible scenes that she wanted to vanish and never come back. She was so scared, so worried, that she hardly realized her entry into the queen's room. She blinked away her confusion at the sounds coming from the bed.

Gurgling. Gagging. Choked, liquidy gasps for air. She saw limbs flying all over the bed; men were holding down the raving woman, and Bulma nearly screeched when the queen emitted a ghastly strangling noise and blood sprayed everywhere. Someone in the back of the room, presumably a servant, gagged and puked at the sight of so much blood.

Bulma rushed to the bed, only to see a scene from hell. Everything was flecked or doused in blood, including Hokora herself. Blood ran from her mouth, nose, and ears in a constant stream. Places on her skin split open just from a mere graze, and crimson blood oozed slowly onto the bed. She was struggling to breathe around all the blood, Bulma could tell that much. One of the doctors in the room, her father to be exact, shouted that her lungs were filling with blood and she was suffocating. No one knew what to do because she was struggling so much, almost as if her mind had gone or she was being tortured horribly.

Or maybe both.

Bulma felt panic bubble up inside her and she listened to the men talk amongst themselves. They hinted of things Bulma wanted to block out, things that she did not want to think of. Tears came to her eyes as she watched the once-lovely woman struggle so intensely for her life.

The men continued to talk to each other as Hokora gasped for air. Bulma began wondering why they would not just do something to help her, anything, when the disturbing realization dawned on her.

They did not know whether or not to try to save her life.

Bulma gasped at the horrifying notion. She ran to her father's side, grasped his arm, and began shaking him with all her strength. "Save her!!!" she screamed hysterically. "Save her now!!!"

Her father looked like he did not know what to do. "Bulma," he said, sighing, "this woman has suffered enough. If we try to save her, she will just suffer more."

Bulma shoved him away from her, betrayal and rage filling her to her very core. She felt anger she had never felt before. It consumed her. It ate at her soul.

"No, she will not suffer! Save her now, I order you to! All of you, if you do not save her I will have all of you killed!!"

The men looked uncertain.

"NOW!!!" she screamed in a high-pitched, hysterical voice.

Looking around at the faces of the men, she tried to plead one more time with them as she listened to the poor woman struggling to breathe in the background.

Fed up, she grabbed a handful of cloths sitting by to the bed and ripped the man away that was next to Hokora's head.

"You are all vermin," she whispered fiercely, glaring at all of them as she tried to clean the blood pouring out of Hokora's mouth. Tears streamed down the princess's face as she tried to help the older woman, but she knew she was doing no good.

Bulma turned her glare to the person in the back of the room, presumably the person who had thrown up earlier at the sight of blood. "Go get the king, right now!" she yelled, and then turned back to the queen. The man left, the door slamming behind him and leaving an eerie echo.

Bulma threw the soaked cloths over her head in a continuous motion as the men watched on. She spoke in a venomous voice as she did so.

"You all deserve to die. Every single one of you makes me sick. I want to hurl just at the thought of all of you just standing there. Look at you. Stupid, pathetic weakling men! I hope you all fucking die!!!" she screamed, her voice going raw from yelling so hard and viciously. "I hate all of you!! This woman is suffering, and you do not even care! Where is your honor? Your bravery!! How can you just stand there and do nothing?! She is dying!!"

She broke down at that moment, and she began sobbing, tears mixed with Hokora's blood streaming down her cheeks. She could hardly see what she was doing, but she still continued for the sake of her sanity. "Please," she sobbed, "do not leave me, Hokora. You are all I have left in this world now. Please, I love you...I need you. Do not leave me...."

She felt her legs tremble and give out beneath her. Her hands fisted in the bloodied bedclothes as she cried her heart out. She cried for Hokora, for the love she had for her, for everything she felt at that moment.

Bulma had no notion of how long she listened to the queen's labored breathing around her before she felt a hand cover her shoulder. She lifted her tear-stained face to see the king, and she dived into his arms instantly. "Please," she begged, still sobbing. "Save her. Please make them do something...anything!"

King Vegeta stared at the nightmare before him and could not believe it was his wife. Bulma heard a muted shout from her father-in-law, and thankfully, she began detecting some action around her. They told her they would save her, and she felt everything drain from her in relief.

She sagged in the king's arms, and he held her up with little required strength. He listened and watched as the doctors moved various instruments and devices onto the bed, prepared to help his wife. He would not just stand by idly and watch her die. He felt his eyes water as he watched her, but he held them back. He wanted to stay strong, not only for his wife, but for the poor young woman in his arms.

Bulma felt exhaustion fill her as she listened to the men yelling and talking and moving around her to help the queen. She could still hear Hokora's unnatural breathing over the men, and it scared her. She did not know what to do.

Then, out of all the noise around her, there was sudden silence. Bulma jerked around, staring at the queen as she gave a strangled gasp of air. Bulma watched as Hokora's eyes turned to her, and her lips moved.

I love you, Bulma.

The young princess felt her heart stop, and she watched as Hokora's eyes closed, and she breathed her last.

The queen was dead.

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Soft light flickered ceaselessly in the enormous towering room. There was utter silence, except for the sound of grief-stricken sobs.

The princess of Vegeta-sei lay brokenly against the glowing altar, where the dead queen was nestled safely inside the sealed coffin. Her hands covered her drenched face, and a stream of never-ending tears flowed through them.

She had been there for three hours, but the unquenchable pain just seemed to grow. It never wanted to end, and she could not stop the feelings no matter how hard she tried. It was just completely useless....

Bulma lifted her tear-streaked face to look above her. The altar was devastatingly beautiful, but it filled her with even more sorrow as she realized whom the altar was for. If only it was for someone else....

The altar was surrounded by white candles of all shapes and sizes, flickering and dancing to a silent tune. Flowers of all kinds bloomed wildly around it, creating a glowing utopia for the casket nestled gently in the middle. The whole scene was meant to brighten and fill a person with hope and happiness. Perhaps the thought that the person was in a better place.

But no-it was not that way for Bulma. It filled her with a sense of loss, with abandonment. It made her feel like she was all alone...and she knew she was.

The queen was to be buried tomorrow. Bulma felt her heart clench at the thought of something so beautiful being ensconced in a place so dark, cold, and dreary. She deserved to be one with the land, scattered amongst flowers and lakes and waterfalls.

Her black silk skirts rustled as she shifted into a more comfortable position. She was trying her hardest not to cry, but try as she might, something always popped up that caused depression and made her cry again.

Like the thought of Chichi not seeing the queen one last time. By the time her best friend received word of her terrible death, the queen would be locked away in her dismal tomb. Bulma knew it would break her heart. Chichi loved the queen almost more than she did, for she had lost her mother at a very young age.

However, that was just minor compared to the king. Apparently he had lapsed into a state of indifference to keep himself away from the pain of Hokora's passing. He had locked himself into his room and refused to come out no matter what the claim or happenstance. He did not sleep, and as far as she knew, he did not eat. And the thing that hurt the most was the fact that king Vegeta had not once visited his wife since her death. Her altar remained unseen by the king of Vegeta-sei.

She felt more tears pool in her red-rimmed eyes. She no longer fought them, for it was a futile struggle. The pain was buried deep inside the very core of her being, and she would just lose the pathetic battle. Nothing was worth it as it was anyhow....

Bulma wondered briefly what would happen now. She was so deeply depressed that she no longer wanted to live. What was there to live for after all? No friends, no companions, no acquaintances. No family...no husband. No nothing. She had absolutely nothing.

For the two days that the queen had been dead, she had thought more than once of ending her life. What would the big deal be anyhow? No one would care, especially Vegeta-sei, who was already racked in enough sorrow.

A laugh filled the chapel, and Bulma started at its haunting, sinister tone. She started because it was from her.

Why had she laughed? Because she knew if she ended her life, Vegeta, her ever-so unwilling husband, would probably do a dance of joy. He would probably thank her for a job well done. And-what hurt even more-was the fact that Vegeta would still have Anausia-sei, even after her death.

Coldness crept into her heart at that moment. She realized that soon everything would end, and she would be all alone.

Or was she already?

She did not register the sound of the chapel doors creaking open and then closing with a soft boom. She just lowered her face back into her arms and wept-for there was nothing else to do. Everything was hopeless.

Footsteps echoed in the towering room, and then stopped as they reached her. She did not hear over her self-pitying tears.

An angry hand reached out, grabbed her shoulder and ripped her away, a harsh reprimand reaching snarling lips.

"How dare-"

Bulma, the wrongful princess of Vegeta-sei, stared with appalled eyes at someone she had not seen in over four years.

Vegeta.