Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Two Worlds ❯ To Care ( Chapter 1 )

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

Two Worlds – 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own DBZ.




That boy said they’d be here in three years. Not much time to train, but more than enough if I have anything to say about it. Stuck at this earth woman’s residence, but they have the technology to provide me with adequate training equipment. Well, despite the fact that it breaks regularly, it’s adequate. Although I suppose it could be worse.
I will become a Super Saiyan if it’s the last thing I ever do. The androids will be no match for me once I achieve my goal, and by God I will. So I will return to my training, pushing my body and mind to their limits, and beyond, in order to become the strongest.

***

Vegeta returned to his training capsule after his meal to resume training. He would go from the hour he woke until he could hardly stand up at night. Then he would sleep with dreams of surpassing Kakarott and the boy who had killed Frieza. And through it all he maintained his determination and grim-set strength as his most prized means for achieving his end.
And today was no different. Firing up the engines of the simulator, he started again with pushups and sit-ups. Afterwards, he stretched his limbs and practiced his forms with punches and kicks. He fired blow after blow as rapidly as he could, an invigorating heart and muscle exercise, which he progressed steadily. Soon he was in the air, flipping and flying, all at over three hundred times earth’s normal gravity.
When he was thoroughly winded, he took a small breather and fired up the droids. They floated around in the air, beeping and humming their mechanical tune. When he was ready, Vegeta fired off an energy blast at the droid, whose shielding unit deflected it back at Vegeta. He dodged the blast, which was caught by another droid, and it spat it back at him. This progressed for hours, all the while Vegeta testing his speed and reflexes against his own blast. Yet he did tire, and when he did, he slipped and didn’t move fast enough to avoid the ball. It struck him in the back and sent him spiraling to the ground in smoke.
With a grunt, he forced himself into a standing position, every move a struggle against such gravity. But if he could become used to it, and move freely in such an atmosphere, imagine his abilities under normal conditions. So he started again, and continued his workout.

***

The Saiyan Prince emerged from the capsule well after nightfall. He stalked into the Capsule Corp. housing building and made for the kitchen. After rummaging through the pantry and fridge, he sat at the table with a double-armful of food. He was in the middle of inhaling it when the earth woman with the blue hair entered the room.
“Looks like we need another trip to the grocery store. Jeez, Vegeta, why do you eat so much?” Bulma crossly addressed the warrior at her table.
“Shut up, woman! I will eat what I please and when I please.” Vegeta said through a
mouthful of food.
“Why don’t you learn some manners, ‘Mr. Prince of all Jerks’?” Bulma placed both hands on her hips, a sign Vegeta had learned which meant the woman wanted to fight. He really wasn’t in the mood to indulge her, but he couldn’t let her think she’d won.
“You had best show me the proper respect or else I’ll blow this entire city into oblivion!” He stood and yelled, shoving the table away from him with force enough to send the food flying to the other side of the room.
Bulma was taken aback by his hostility. Vegeta was always an asshole, but rarely did he do such as this. In truth, Vegeta was a bit shocked as well by his outburst. He didn’t exactly mean to throw his meal everywhere while proving his point.
“Now look what you’ve done.” She didn’t yell, but her quiet tone of slightly sorrowful fatigue angered Vegeta even more. It stirred pity and remorse in his heart, and he wanted nothing to do with those emotions. They made one weak, like Kakarott, and the Prince of Saiyans could not be weak. He turned and left with a grunt, but stopped in the doorway.
“I...apologize.” And with that he left, heading to shower and finally sleep. Bulma remained however, staring at the doorway in disbelief. The haughty Prince had just said he was sorry for something he’d done. A monumental day this was indeed.

***

“Apology indeed! I had no reason to apologize, I have no regrets. She shouldn’t have started with me about such things and I wouldn’t have done that. But still, I don’t know why I said it at all. Never mind, it was a mistake that will not happen again.” Vegeta boiled his way down the hall towards the bathroom. He snagged a towel from the closet (he never wanted to repeat his first ordeal with showering at this residence), and turned on the water.
He was still mad, but still confused as to what possessed him to apologize to that woman. Bulma was her name, he thought. Yet there was something about her he admired a bit; a fiery temper and attitude almost rival to his own.
The water was warm enough now, so he climbed in. He let the warm torrent wash his body and cleanse his spirit. There’s nothing quite like a nice hot bath at the end of a hard day. But Vegeta found he couldn’t relax and meditate like usual. For some reason, the incident with that Bulma woman kept interrupting his thoughts. The scene would play over and over in his head, and he was powerless to prevent it.
So finally cleaning himself and giving up trying to relax, he turned off the water and reached for his drying cloth. Dry and squeaky clean, he stepped in front of the mirror and brushed his teeth. Even a Saiyan maintains good hygiene, if for no other purpose than fighting (it would be far more painful to be punched in a mouth with no teeth).
And at a late eleven at night, the warrior retired to his bed. It was positioned only one room away from Bulma, and as he closed his eyes, a monstrously loud dissonance penetrated the two walls between their respective rooms. Almost every night, she insisted on blaring that infernal noise she called music, as if she were deaf.
Vegeta usually used this as an opportunity to meditate and tone out the noise for sleeping, but this had been an off day since the end of training, and he couldn’t focus his mind into a blockade against the onslaught. He tossed and turned for nigh on half an hour before he finally decided to shut her up personally.
Climbing out of bed, he went to his door and exited the room. He found Bulma’s room
easily enough...it was the source of the screeching blasts of noise that offended his ears. With a loud bang on the door, he made himself known. The volume reduced to tolerable, and he heard the woman walking towards the portal. She opened it, and nearly fell over in shock when she saw who was calling.
“Vegeta? What...what do you want?” She was more surprised and curious than angry. Vegeta was preparing an earful of laying down the law for her, but for some reason, he couldn’t yell.
“I can’t sleep with that noise...turn it down...please.” He straightened like a board after realizing what words had just left his mouth. He had just kicked his own pride in the gut. But Bulma was too amazed at his actually requesting her do something rather than demanding, and he even used please...could this day get any weirder?
“Uh...okay.” She stood there and stared at this man, this rude and arrogant killer, who had never done anything to her but be an asshole. She couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t simply broken down the door and blasted her stereo. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw something different than usual. She saw a wonder and curiosity, anger at this desire for knowledge, and an aggravation at why he couldn’t figure it out. ‘Maybe he’s trying to change’ she thought to herself.
On the other hand, Vegeta stood in the doorway of this earth woman, this small and fragile creature who had given him more than enough reason to lay waste to her and everything around her on numerous occasions, only to find that he could do naught but look at her. He had gotten what he wanted, and now he should turn and go back to bed. But something in her eyes bid him stay a while longer. He could see the searching in her eyes, and could feel the same in his own being...but he didn’t want it! He didn’t need any of this foolishness and nonsense; distractions from becoming strong. And yet there it was, as sure as he was standing there, although as he continued to stare into the woman’s eyes, he wasn’t sure if he was there at all, but inside her blue eyes.
And that did it, he was a Saiyan no matter what, and his pride would not let his mind continue down the path it was wanting to go. With an abrupt turn, he walked back down the hall and opened the door to his room. With a last glance back at Bulma, who was still watching him in wonder, he disappeared into his chamber.

***

‘What was that?’ Bulma asked herself, as she sat on her bed. Her music was completely off, that being a minuscule trifle now. But she couldn’t mistake that she had seen something in Vegeta. She laid down, staring at the ceiling and pondering these new riddles.
‘What’s wrong with me?!’ Vegeta’s head was swimming with personal agony, ‘allowing myself to stand in some woman’s doorway, staring like a fool...after I asked her to turn off that noise, no less! I have no time for such idiotic distractions, and all she has been for the better part of my evening is a distraction. But still...why has she been affecting me so?” He lay there pondering for a few more hours, but his fatigue got the best of him, and he drifted off to sleep.

***

Next day he redoubled his efforts. Again using the droids as deflectors to an energy beam which he dodged, he danced about the capsule in training. He did this for quite some time, his tired body begging him to stop, yet he continued. All he could see was the face of that woman, and he was determined to push it out with the hardest of training. But it was for naught, as he didn’t move fast enough, and was stricken down by the blast.
The energy bounced about the droids, while he was on the floor, and finally shot back at him for another round. There was no way his worn out body could dodge, so he formed another beam and shot this one at the one coming for him. They met in midair, and exploded, a blast issuing forth so powerful as to demolish his entire capsule.
Back in the Capsule Corp. building, Bulma was holding a pastry her mother had brought, not hungry, but still pondering the events of the previous night. She stared at the cake and wondered about what Vegeta could have meant by such actions. But before her mind could put much together, an explosion rocked the premises, forcing her to smash the cupcake into her face.
They all knew what had happened, however, and Bulma ran outside in fright. She met Yamcha on the way, he was just come to visit for the day, “Hey Bulma, where’s the fire?” She blew past him, without a word. He ran after her, thinking maybe the androids had come early or something.
When they arrived, they saw the ruined capsule, and the pile of rubble which used to be its wall, “Vegeta!” Bulma cried, kneeling down in dismay.
“I knew this would happen,” Yamcha said, “he’s been trying to do the impossible.”
“Where is he? Vegeta?” Bulma began to dig through the rubble, paying no heed to Yamcha’s remarks. She grew increasingly worried, as she found no trace of the Saiyan, when a bruised hand shot up from the debris.
Bulma fell back with a yell, knocking Yamcha over, scared by Vegeta’s hand. She was relieved, however, that he wasn’t dead. And indeed, the battered and sore body of Vegeta soon emerged form the wreckage, grunting with pain as he rose.
“You...okay?” Bulma asked, still atop Yamcha on the ground.
“Of course I am...” He stood up straight as he could, trying to retain his pride and dignity in the face of such a mess. Bulma sighed with relief, but soon remembered she should be mad at him.
“How dare you, you dweeb! You almost wrecked my house...what are you trying to prove?!” Vegeta stiffened his back, gathering his bearings, and tried to laugh her off. But he was too wounded, and fell to the ground in a splash of rocks and bolts.
“Oh no, you...you’re hurt!” Bulma cried, running over to his side and lifting his head. Vegeta chucked, noticing her anger faded away in an instant.
“No...I don’t need help. I’ve got...training to do.” He could hardly keep his eyes open, but he knew he must persevere despite this setback.
“You’ve got to stop training for a while, I mean look at you...you’re a complete wreck!” She tried to clutch his shoulder to emphasize her point, but she doubted he could feel it.
“But I feel fine. I’m a Saiyan...I can take a little pain, it means nothing to me. And I have to get stronger than Kakarott.” He looked into her eyes, seeing the same sparkle he did last night. But this was different. She was actually worried about him...no one had ever been concerned weather he lived or died. But he couldn’t concentrate on it too much, his vision was fading in and out.
“Okay, sure. We all know you’re a tough guy...but you need to rest now.” She smiled, something in her admiring his persistence in getting stronger, even in the face of such a catastrophe.
Yamcha looked on in disbelief, his girlfriend having forgotten about him completely for this Saiyan monster who couldn’t care less about her.
“I take orders from no one!” Vegeta declared, forcing his way out of her hands in an attempt to stand once again. He couldn’t stand the feeling he got when she was around, and he had to get away. But it was in vain, for he fell flat on his face when he was free of her support.
“Oh no.” Bulma cried, grabbing for him again. She picked his body up to find he had passed out, “don’t just stand there, help me take him inside!” She yelled to Yamcha, who broke from his trance and reluctantly picked the Saiyan Prince up. Under Bulma’s direction, he carried him into the building and to his room.
Soon Dr. Brief had outfitted his bed with the necessary medical equipment to make him better. He was bandaged and cast, his cuts and broken bones being tended, and he was put on a respirator to aid his breathing. In all the insane gravity, his lungs had suffered severe damage when being put to such a task as breathing. A few good weeks of resting would do him wonders.
“Is he going to be alright, daddy?” Bulma asked, crouched in worry at his bedside. It frightened her more than she realized at seeing the proud, strong man in such a state.
“I hope so. The only thing he hasn’t bruised is his eyebrows. If he stays in bed a week or so, he should be alright. He’s dodged the bullet again...it’s a miracle he survived such a horrible accident. Those Saiyans are practically indestructible.” Dr. Brief said.
“Oh, poor Vegeta.” Bulma’s mother wept into a napkin, her never having been one to withstand such occurrences.
“Come on, dear. Let’s let him rest,” the doctor said, escorting her out of the room.
“You lunkhead.” Bulma said, standing to leave. She turned, but thought she caught Vegeta say something. She looked back at him and listened.
“Kakarott, I’ll get stronger. Kakarott! I’ll beat you!” He winced in his sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of surpassing his greatest rival.
‘He’s having a bad dream’ Bulma said to herself, noticing Vegeta’s actions.

***


Indeed Vegeta was caught in a nightmare, running down a dark passage as hard as he could. He couldn’t find the end, but the countenance of Kakarott appeared, blocking his way. Soon the boy who claimed to be a Saiyan was there too, both of them blocking his path in a mocking jeer of their achievement which he had not yet grasped.
With a grin, they went Super Saiyan, rubbing it in that Vegeta did not have this talent. The latter powered to his full, trying desperately to overcome the two beasts, but it was to no avail. They began to recede, taking the secret of the transformation with them, and Vegeta was helpless to follow.
Angered at his plight, he remembered the words of his father, who had told him that one day he would become a Super Saiyan and surpass all the low-levels. But it wasn’t now. No, he still had to work harder than he ever imagined and only then would he be worthy of the power.
“I haven’t forgotten what you said, father. I haven’t forgotten my destiny.” It was all clear now, he would become a Super Saiyan, come hell or high water, “I am a Super Saiyan!”

***

With a start, he came to, rising in the bed despite his aches and pains. His path was clear once again, and he would follow it now. Wanting to continue training as soon as possible, he threw back the covers and sat up in bed. But upon looking to his right, he beheld the earth woman sleeping at the desk next to his bed.
‘What is she doing here?’ he thought to himself, wondering why she would care to remain in his room. Then he remembered her concern for him when the capsule exploded. A warmth flowed through him, an unwelcome feeling, but one that he didn’t entirely disown. But quickly behind those thoughts, he realized another; his gravity room was destroyed, “So it’s old-school for a while.” With a painful grunt, he stood and stumbled his way outside.

***

When Bulma woke, she had a headache from using the desk as a pillow. Her hair was a wreck and her patient was nowhere to be found, “I swear, he’s going to kill himself.” She said, quickly exiting the room.
She followed the trail of discarded bandages and dripped blood from a particularly bad wound on his chest that wouldn’t stop bleeding. It led outside into the yard where the capsule used to be.
There the Prince was doing pushups, a puddle of blood under his body, and his leg sickly bent in the wrong direction from his bone being broken and it trying to support the weight of his body for pushups.
“Vegeta stop! You can’t be doing this now!” Bulma ran over to him, but he continued his workout.
“Leave, woman. I am in no need of your assistance. I appreciate your care earlier, but I am perfectly fit to handle myself now, so leave.” He lowered his body, but upon the incline, his leg gave way, landing on his shattered knee which elicited a yell of pain from the warrior.
“Vegeta!” Bulma ran to him and placed a hand on his shoulder for support, “please stop. You need to rest. Think of it this way: when you get better, you can train twice as hard as you can now.”
“What...do you care?” Vegeta asked between ragged gasps.
“Because...” Bulma started, but stopped for a moment, “Because you have to defeat the androids, and you can’t if you don’t become a Super Saiyan.”
Vegeta grunted at her comment, “I thought that’s what you all have Kakarott for. He’s the mighty hero, right?”
“Well, the way you’ve been training, if you reach Super Saiyan, I don’t see how anyone can be stronger than you.” She moved in front of Vegeta, and sat down with him on the ground.
This comment took Vegeta off guard. No one had ever called him the strongest but himself, and he didn’t know how to handle it, “I suppose I should thank you now. But I won’t. Don’t try to suck up to me, woman. I don’t care about this planet, and I have every intention of leaving once the androids are dead.” He stuck his nose in the air, but Bulma ignored his gesture. She was determined to get to the root of him, here and now.
“What is it that makes you think you can’t talk to people? You don’t have to thank me, but I’m not sucking up. Why do you not trust anyone, or believe anyone? Will you tell me, please?” She leaned in closer, staring intently at him. She noticed the apprehension in him, but saw also what was almost like a lost child, eager to be wanted.
“You wouldn’t understand,” He said, lowering his head, “No one can. To live your life under the rule of another, the tyranny and oppression from the creature who killed your whole planet. To have to depend on him for your survival, and serve him...plotting each and every day how you will finally kill him someday. Then your chance comes, and you find that despite all your training and preparation, your aren’t strong enough. And worse, a low level, a man of no importance, having no pride in his own heritage...he is the one to kill him.
“And then you learn that not only has he surpassed you, he has achieved the legendary transformation of the Saiyan race. He is the Super Saiyan, the strongest force in the universe. I had been promised this since I was a child, raised to believe it was my right, my lineage as royalty of a warrior people. To see it snatched from under you by a man who doesn’t even have the pride to call the Saiyans his own people!
“Yet all I’ve done, all my work, for all these years...it is for nothing but watching Kakarott beat me again and again. So I have to let everything else go, any and all ties are but roadblocks in my way. I must have a clear view of my goal, unobstructed by anything. Only then will I be able to be the best.” Vegeta kept his head lowered for some time, staring intently at an ant that scurried about in building his home.
And Bulma looked at him in a new light. She knew now the reason for his ways, his attitude and his mannerisms. It was all a defense, placed from his childhood against all the cruel and terrible events that had plagued his life. As she considered this, tears formed in her eyes, and she felt a deep remorse for her past regard of him. Though now she felt she understood him.
Vegeta raised his head to see her, tears in her eyes and a solemn look about her face. This unnerved him, more so that he already was, having told so much to her, so much that he never told anyone
“I’m sorry, Vegeta.” Bulma whispered, placing a hand on his knee.
“Save your pity.” He tried to be cross, but it didn’t work. He had already bared too much of his soul to revert to his temper. He took her hand to move it, but when he grasped it, he found he couldn’t let go. He stared at the meeting of their extremities, wondering at what power her hand had over his in the way of paralysis. And when he raised his eyes to meet Bulma’s, he found a small smile on her face.
“So this is how it is, huh?” They both turned to see Yamcha, standing a few feet away.
“No Yamcha, it’s not what you think.” Bulma stood, and went over to him, trying to explain.
“I don’t want to hear it! You’re always ragging me about me running around on you. And now here you are, having a nice picnic with him! Don’t you remember who he is? He tried to kill us all a few years back!” He turned to leave, but Bulma grabbed his arm, “Let me go!” He yelled, slinging his arm free of her grasp, and knocking her to the ground as well.
“You worthless insect.” Vegeta said, standing with a great deal of pain to face the man, “I’d like to see you handle someone your own size like that.” He limped his way towards Yamcha, who took a step back. Vegeta was in horrible shape, but he still struck fear into the heart of the earthling.
“Vegeta, stop. You can’t do this.” Bulma begged him, standing.
“No,” He said, continuing his approach, “I have never liked this one anyway. You think you are mighty, handling women with such force? You know nothing of true might. You are pathetic, even by Kakarott’s standards.” Vegeta was now face to face with Yamcha. The latter didn’t run, but was having a hard time keeping his jaw from clattering.
“I didn’t mean to, Vegeta. I swear. I would never hurt her, you gotta believe me.” He tried to laugh it off, but the Saiyan maintained an ice-cold stare into his quavering eyes. In a flash, his hand was around the earthling’s throat, lifting his body from the ground.
“I should crush you right here. But I’m going to save it for the androids, and relish your demise at their hands. Then I’ll destroy them, you, everyone with my power!” His grip tightened, enough to completely cut the breathing ability of the human, but not enough to kill him. And with a flick of his arm, Vegeta sent Yamcha face-first into the ground.
The human stood, wiped the dirt from him as best he could, and left running, “Vegeta.” Bulma said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“No,” The Prince said, shrugging her hand, “I will not allow myself to become weak. Do not expect such a show from me ever again.” He started to walk away.
“It’s not weakness,” Bulma said under her breath, “to care.”