Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Undercover ❯ Vanquished ( Chapter 18 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: CowgirlUSA 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.30.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.5K | Visits: 236 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.30.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.5K | Visits: 236 | Status: Completed
A/N: The next chapter, a miracle isn’t it?
Dreams of the future fell away from view, everything he had dreamed of, everything he had hoped for was gone. The life he had dreamed to spend with that woman was forever lost in a void that could not be escaped. Trunks felt no will to live, what was left to look forward too, if the thing that meant the most was lost from your grasp?
Falling back onto the silken sheets, the man let that white hot rage boil within him, let his take over. He didn’t care about anything anymore, nothing mattered but exacting his revenge upon the woman who had killed her. Trunks’ fangs lengthened in preparation for slaughter, he was excited about this, and that other half of him was disgusted at the prospect.
Yelling at the top of his lungs, various ogres running in to hear his screams of ire, Trunks let all his feelings out. He let no tears fall, but that white lightning that struck within him would not relent, and he needed to fume some how. So with a mighty roar, and an wall shattering punch, the prince walked out of the room, red shining in his eyes.
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Bra looked out upon that horrible battleground, waiting and praying to see a figure arise from the crater which had once been the backyard. Nothing stirred in that awful cloud of dust and dirt, not figure of a woman silhouetted itself from the falling debris. A knot of worry shot from within her, a fear so deep, so unnameable that she couldn’t tell the other’s what was tearing her apart from the inside out.
Wiping tears from her redden cheeks, Bra continued to stare out the back doors, her entire being shaking in a dreaded anticipation. There were so many what if’s, too many in that matter. Many questions and dreaded outcomes came to her mind, but were ignored and pushed away as the teen looked out, squinting her eyes in a desperate try.
Sighing, the hope dying from her breast, a new fear gripped her heart, tearing it to shreds and leaving it dead. She had tried to communicate with Goten, yet the other end was completely dead. No voice was answering her back, no comforting words to ease her aching organ which pounded noisily in her chest.
Desperate cries were sent out telepathically, her tears both inward and outward gushing forth like a dam that had broke. Bra’s soul felt like shattering, falling to pieces and falling to the bottom where her feet were located. Nothing moved, nothing, and oh how desperately she wanted anything to stir in that inky nothingness.
Bra sank to the floor in a crumpled heap, her legs no longer able to support her weight. Her hands covered her face in a desperate attempt to hide from the world that was caving in around her. She wanted to disappear from sight, to hide forever from the pain of reality that refused to let her go.
Sobs of despair would not cease, and so as the night remained deathly calm, the blue haired mother-to-be cried out her woes, alone, on the kitchen’s tile floor.
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V idel sat upon the bed that her and her husband had shared only the previous night. His scent was still strong, lingering upon the bed sheets and pillowcases. Burying her head in those soft comforts, the young woman tried desperately to dispell all her woes that plagued her over anxious mind. She could not help but feel despair at what would come of this horrific time, of this future that seemed so bleak.
Sniffling, Videl wrapped herself within the blankets, forming a cocoon that she could escape into. She felt so useless sitting here and tearing up at every little new development that arose from the world. She couldn’t find any comfort for any of her sorrows, which only caused her state to worsen.
Her bottom lip trembling, Videl tried to remain calm, tried to keep her heartache inside of herself, to hide it from the others. They were suffering enough, they didn’t need her worries added to that list.
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Ch i Chi sat remotely upon the living room couch, wringing her hands and staring blankly at the black television screen. She felt nothing at the moment, her body and soul completely numb to the heart wrenching sobs that echoed hauntingly throughout the house. She felt no fear, no anger, no anticipation, nothing, it was all the same as it use to be, and so she felt numb.
Chi Chi had rode this roller coaster numerous times, and had found it a trivial thing to waste one’s energy on whimpering about it. But as many times as she said this to herself, she knew it to be a lie. It was proven so once Goku would walk in that door, and she would throw her arms around his neck and cry til she fell asleep in his arms.
So, now, more logically, she supposed, she did it to remain strong, to be the backbone for those who could not hold up on their own. The other women needed this strength, needed to see that surety that never left her dark eyes. Chi Chi knew this, and understood it. In fact, she could remember a time when she had wished for this same kind of sturdy reassurance when Goku had first started these escapades, but of course, she never got it.
Sighing once more, Chi Chi let go of the turmoil that rested in her heart, she would not let it bother her any longer. At least, not where others could see. She would remain strong, and be the supporting beam that all the other’s clung too, it was her duty, a duty she regarded with a proud air.
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< br> Goku looked upon the fallen minions with sympathy, with an empathy that not many could possess for the one’s that had wanted his demise. His heartbeat was steady, but the organ ached uncontrollably at the sight of the large massacre. The bodies, or rather piles of dust, that littered the ground was uncountable, an unfathomable number.
Goku had long since lost sight of his fellow comrades, of the warriors which had fought along side him, he wished them well. He couldn’t since their ki, couldn’t distinguish one shape from another in the great haze of falling debris. Everything was so dead, so lifeless that it scarred even someone like himself to the bone. And in the middle of all this was his granddaughter, whether alive or diseased he did not know.
Sighing dejectedly, the great male slumped to the ground, determined to wait out for everything clear, or at least until he could see three feet in front of his nose. Blowing a stray particle from his nose, the lithe figure drummed his figures upon the ground in a bored fashion. He traced patterns with his fingers amongst the remnants of their battle, depicting small little bunnies hopping about carelessly.
Looking up into the brown, dirt covered sky, Goku mentally urged the clouds to leave and let him breath the scent of air into his lungs once more. His sensitive nose rebuked the putrid smell as much as it was able, trying to dispel the horrid stench from memory. His teeth gleamed in what little light penetrated through the dense fog, and his face turned pale once more.
A stench, so strong and horrible that it made his stomach turn, made his bowls fill with pricking needles. He dry heaved, trying to rid that taste from his pallet, to leave the rancid taste behind upon the decaying ground. But no matter the amount of effort Goku put into ridding himself of that awful thing, it would not leave him, would not retreat to other worlds.
But, through all the years of this scent, he could not grow use to its unique, and utterly fowl stench. But that’s what it was like, the blood that flooded the ground and stained it an unnatural color. The ogres had not bothered him, for they were pure dust after their defeat, nothing more, and nothing less. But this, this was the scent of one thing, and one thing alone. The horrid smell of decaying death.
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Gohan leaned against the tree, breathing greedily for any amount of air in that matter, not being as greedy as his father previously had. He did not wish for pure air, only oxygen in any shape or form. He cursed that stray minion who had snuck behind him, attacking, and ultimately collapsing one lung entirely, and the other more than half. And he knew, if he was any more human than he was, he would have died long ago.
His pride hurt, and Gohan knew that it was not good, not in the least, to harm a Saiyan’s pride. And that fool had. After time had passed, and he pondered on his actions, he felt guilty for the earlier occurrences. The torture that thing had gone through was inexcusable, and he felt sorry for that, but at the time, all he had care about was seeing blood, it’s blood. And he had, oh how he had.
Gohan, the one that everyone thought would be the prodigy for Saiyans, had figured out how to pierce their armor like skin. It was something Vegeta had taught him, something he had only barely grasped as a child. A punch infused with strong ki could slice through them like butter, and he had exulted himself in that feeling. Torturing him with small, yet deep wounds, that would sustain his life til the very last moment when he sentenced him to the painful death of dust.
Looking at his soiled hands, the male wondered silently what had possessed him exactly? What inhuman being had flown down from the heaven and encased his body so he had no control? He was disgusted with himself, in fact, Gohan felt defiled in some strange circumstance, he was astonished at his earlier behavior. This, coming from the boy who needed his father to become severely injured or die before he could truly unleash his power. It was just unthinkable.
Dejectedly the tall man slid to the ground, rubbing his hands together in a desperate attempt to rid them of the awful stench of death, he doubted he would ever get use to it, unlike his brother. He had noted, several times in fact, when things gone desperate, Goten held no inner turmoil about taking the life of some simpleton, why himself and their sire did.
Goten, who had been the exact replica of their father, who had cared more about training and becoming and hero rather than what their mother thought. Goten, who he had taken under his wing when young since he had never knew his father, had taught him all he knew. And now, no longer a child, but a full grown male with a mate and pups on the way. A male which had become even more ruthless than he had previously been.
Thinking back, Gohan remembered every look that crossed his brother’s eyes when he had fought today. No regret shone forth, only a fierce determination to fight for what he believed in and his family which hid behind stone walls. The little brother which had surpassed him strength because of that uncaring nature for his enemies. He had known it for quite sometime, though, possibly, not as long as his own daughter and her mate.
Rubbing his temples, Gohan wondered silently if this was a good thing, or something completely wrong. Why was Goten so different from his father and himself, and held so many characteristics of the Briefs’ linage? More to the point, why did Vegeta’s characteristics keep shining through? Why did Goten seem so much like his daughter’s sensei?
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Go ten’s eyes looked upon the ground in complete astonishment, in complete unbelieving realization. It had happened once again, that undeniable thrill of battle, that lust of blood that would not leave, the ecstacy of the kill. He shuttered momentarily, fearing for what was happening to his soul, to what was occurring within his body.
Thinking of Bra, Goten wondered momentarily of what was occurring to her at this very moment. She must be worried, but he could not let her back into his mind at this moment, he could not let her see this demon inside of him. This raging beast that thirsted only of two things, bloodlust, and sexual. During that state he felt nothing but those two things, no emotions played forth in either of the two, and he wanted his mate to not even considered that he did not love her, that he had mated her only for her physical attributes.
Considering each view of what occurred, Goten sat upon his haunches, doing something he rarely did in any circumstance, something his best friend and brother would be equally thrilled at, he thought, deeply. Different possibilities formulated in his now overactive mind, trying to decipher from reality, and from fiction. But everything seemed to be muddled into one blurred image. An image that refused to disappear.
He knew, or at least thought he did, of himself being at least part of Goku’s lineage, but fully was another question altogether. Goten had known, from the very beginning, that there was something different, something odd compared to the rest of his ancestors. To put it simply, Goten did not fit in with all the other’s that came before him. He did not quite belong in that sprawling family tree of his.
Disturbingly, in fact, he had noticed certain characteristics that matched his own, and Vegeta’s heritage, which, to put it frankly, scared the shit out of him. When not in battle, he fit in with the Sons perfectly, but when fighting he was an opposite, and fit more with that ways of his friends. And to put it mildly, the reason for this could possibly be far more terrifying than his characteristics he had been displaying.
Deciding not to dwell on the matter any further, Goten rested his eyes, laying his head against the grime that resided on the ground. Though conscious he may have decided to think of the predicament any longer, unconscious was a whole other aspect. Goten would not sleep easy this night.
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Gaku sat dejectedly upon his perch, wondering what troubled his mother so, though he had a relatively good idea. His father had yet to return, and the world that had held that might display of power still was troubled with unrested warriors. He did not possess deep thoughts like that of his elders, but he knew what emotions swam through their vision as they mourned for what could be. And he knew, without a doubt, that whatever laid upon the horizon was far more catastrophic than what had happened this far.
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Gouki, who was experiencing similar thoughts as his nephew, waiting silently in the shadows, watching his mother. She sat regally upon the furniture, ignoring all other influences form the outside world. He had never seen her so indifferent to what was happening, to was occurring to her own family. Yet here, to prove the point, she sat, plainly refusing to show any emotion on that usual expressive face.
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Baku scowled from his place on the roof, pointedly wishing to fight alongside his father against the brainless idiots. Raw hatred boiled within his veins, how dare they attack this home, they were royal, and those intruders had now soiled the land with their presence. He had hardly tolerated the fact that the Son family, though relatively high in status, was allowed to live within the confines of this makeshift castle.
But more so, now that those barbarians had shed their filth upon the land, Baku was livid. He knew of his regal heritage, and divined in it as any young ruler should do with this knowledge, though he would not be a young ruler. Trunks, his eldest brother was the one to rule the kingdom, though he thought him to be too kind hearted to really do so. And if something happened to him, his sister, now that she was bearing offspring, and the possible chance of a male child, kicked him out of the way completely, and put the Son’s in charge. Bearing his small fangs, Baku tried to hide the anger that welled up inside his chest, he was the only suitable prince.
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Piccolo kicked another pile of dust out of the way, not wanting to dirty his clothing in any shape or form. This really was bothersome, and he felt quite annoyed that he had to trudge around in such ridiculous conditions. Wondering momentarily if the others were well, especially that of his pupil and friend, the Namekian continued upon his trek.
He really cared not for the others, aside from the strange female that was his pupil’s offspring, and the one that would help decide the fate of two races. Somehow, though he knew not why, she had wormed her way into his heart, filling up various holes that were hard to fill. But the others, including that of his friend’s middle spawn held no importance to him, as well as the hot headed king who could die for all he cared.
Unlike the others, Piccolo knew of what happened several years ago, when Goku was gone, and Chi Chi was left alone. He knew the reason behind Goten’s strange behaviors, knew why he acted like a more pure Saiyan than any of the other’s, besides the one known as Baku. Yes, he had figured it out long ago through intense conversations he had over heard throughout the years. And yet, he did not utter a word.
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“Vegeta, she can’t take anymore, she just can’t,” Bulma was huddled upon the cold floor, leaning her head against the steel walls.
“I know this woman, do you think me ignorant of these facts?” scowling at his rude behavior, Bulma seethed quietly behind her well worn mask.
“Yes, I am well aware of your knowledge, but to put it simply, I don’t think you know exactly what is wrong with her,” as if speaking to a child, the blue haired woman watched as her mate’s face became scrunched in annoyance.
“Does that really matter?” his voice dripped with venom, his eyes heated as he told her that it shouldn’t matter to what the girl was suffering from, only that she was terribly ill.
“But it does! Oh does it ever you stupid baka!” Bulma lost control and jumped to her feet, fists bared at her side.
“Watch you tongue you wench,” Vegeta glared daggers at her, knowing fully that it would not bother her like it did so many others.
“Well do you want me to explain or not, you hotheaded jackass,” she neither yelled nor hissed this, but only whispered, but a silent hush that was so deadly that it almost made the king flinch... almost.
“Do whatever you please, I see no reason why you must...” he trailed off as her hand made contact with his solid cheek. It did not hurt him physically, but having his mate strike him hurt him to the core, though he did not show it.
“Now, if you’ll just shut up, maybe we can get some where, good. Now, before you went off on your hotheaded speech, I was going to tell you my theory on what has happened to her body. You see, Takakazu was livid when he realized that Trunks had mated with Pan, and thus decided to exact his revenge, which he did readily. But he did not take it out on the body he was housed in, he took out on her. He destroyed all her organs, leaving only behind her womb, though why he gave her that much I do not know. But either way, seeing as her body is much more tolerable of these things, it excepted this new change, and made changes of its own to help. So, she has no organs, nothing do you understand now?” a dawning of sorts seemed to take form, and Bulma smiled in triumph.
“There is only one problem with your theory woman,” raising her eyebrow in a questioning fashion, she mentally debated on letting him have his time to gloat.
“And what would that be?” Bulma placed her manicured hands upon her hips, deciding to find his reasoning behind his statement.
“If she has no lungs, what does she breath with, if she has no heart, how does blood circulate through her body, and if no brain, how does she think?” all these questions were good, but most were one’s she could not answer.
“I don’t know, but she does have a brain, I met her organs down in lower areas, I didn’t mean to lead you to that conclusion. But as for the heart and lungs, I told you, her body adjusted I suppose, all I can tell you is those organs have all disappeared,” shrugging her shoulders in complete wonderment, she looked away from the man before her.
“This is quite interesting, something I’m going to have to look into, perhaps my father’s journals would be of help,” Vegeta seemed to be lost in his own world, those dark irises seeing something she could not.
“Perhaps, but, Vegeta, before you leave, answer me this, why did you get out of that, while the others did not? And don’t give me that lame excuse of you being superior to the others,” he looked at her, his eyes locking with her own, something they usually did not do, not when this emotion was flowing through them both.
“Honestly, the truth, the sight. I know you don’t know much about it, and only few with the royal blood possess it, and I happen to have it,” embracing her, encircling her with his warmth and pulling her to the wall of his chest.
“I know some, the sight is something that can let a Saiyan of royal birth to see through the darkest of hours, and through the murkiest of clouds, but that’s about it,” looking up at him, she felt the love flowing from him that he did not speak of verbally.
“Correct, but your knowledge is limited, so I advise you to read on it in future times, but until then, I shall give you the abridged version. I can see the makeups of anything I choose. I could trace you’re entire family tree by just concentrating correctly on your body. And thus is how I found out about Goten,” resting his chin upon her head, Vegeta thought of the time when he had discovered that horrid secret.
“So, that’s how you knew,” closing her eyes, Bulma mentally prayed, for Goku’s sake, that he never learned the truth of that day, many years ago.
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(Little hint, this is in a narrator’s voice, more dramatic that way)
Now, as we look upon that battle scene which had been filled at one time with so much hatred, now lay cold and still. The soft whisper of the wind did not dispel what events had happened in this spot. The crater which is indescribably large still is there, though none can see it, even now as Goten sits only three feet from its edge.
None of our warriors know of the outcome of their niece, granddaughter, and daughter, or Pan to put it more simply. No ki can be sensed of either of the two, and so each and everyone of them, with no other path to lead them away from the conclusion, have decided them both dead. Their energies far to enormous to be contained in their two small bodies, to be absorbed without destroying the winner of the brawl. Forever deciding the outcome of this world which has housed far more creatures than the humans would ever hope to conceive.
So as four figures walked from the rubble, no one was surprised, no one was expecting anymore. Goku, Goten, Gohan, and Piccolo, four great warriors, four noble warriors that had risked both life and limb for what they loved, yet they weren’t the best. The two greatest warriors to ever live were not here, one was forever lost, and the other somewhere far off, fighting an evil prince inside their own body.
Videl was the first to rush forward, to wrap her arms around Gohan’s neck and embrace him like she had never done before. To nuzzle his now uncovered chest with the side of her cheek, and reassure herself that he was real, and not leaving her. To feel his muscle ripple underneath her touch when her arms tightened in strength as her tears splashed down her emotionally battered face.
Goku walked up to his mate, pulling her to him as she let the turmoil of her earlier struggles drain away. She felt safe, and for some odd reason, away from all others besides him as she let him comfort her as best as he knew how. Her hands scrunched his tattered clothing, bunching it until it disintegrated from under her touch. But, Chi Chi did not care, she could care less of his worn cloth, or the outcome of this horrendous fight, all she cared about at the moment was that he was alive, and that her grand-baby had not walked through the mist with them. A conquering hero.
Bra had fallen to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably in a jubilee of sorts, her mate was alive and well, something she had not been too sure of mere moments before. That tall male walked to her, his demons well hidden, and took her in his arms, whispering soft words that are met for only their ears, so I will leave them as such.
Gouki and Gaku jumped up and down in uncontrollable glee, hugging each other as they struggled to keep themselves under control. Baku, who stood before the home, his back resting upon the firm structure even had a smirk upon his usually cold features, and unreadable emotion flashing through his dark eyes.
All celebrated, and yet all mourned. Two completely opposite emotions, yet so easily ran together that it often became one. For example, in case you readers of this ancient tale are slightly confused, at the funeral of a loved one, are you not sad? You are, you will deeply miss that person, for even if small, they made a significance in your life. Yet, think of it this way, what if that person had been suffering from something terribly painful for the last year or so, would you not feel happy that they finally found peace from their pain? Most with a good heart would see this, am I correct? So, as I have clearly pointed out, these two feelings, though opposite, often coincide with another so splendidly that one must think hard to remember whether they are sad, or in a strange way, joyous. So, can you answer me that question, were they happy? Or perhaps, were they sad?
Either way, it does not matter for this moment, though it may become essential for you to try and answer that rather dubious question. Though I know most would thrust out an answer and go about their lives, it is better to concentrate and ponder this, truly thinking of which is more true, and which emotion is stronger and correct. It should give you a more in depth look at the human heart, or more importantly, the human soul.
But, as you have clearly noticed, things have slid out of place, obscuring the true tale from view, though the meaning has not. But more with the story, as you have clearly witnessed, all were weeping, crying upon the shoulders of their loved one for what is what you must decipher.
All I am permitted to say about this turn of event is as follows.
Piccolo, who had been dutifully minding his own business, suddenly had stood erect, his eyes widening and his ears straining. His took a step forward, his breath hitching in anticipation as something trudged through the wreckage. Who it was could not be identified, only his ears, those large, keen appendages, could pick up the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.
The others noticed his difference in positions, and followed his gaze toward the thinning cloud, though still was too dense for the sight of these soldiers to penetrate with their steady gazes. But as all thought the Namekian insane, a shadow, a fleeting figure, appeared in that murky air, and then disappeared just as quickly.
All breathing stopped, all hearts quit beating as a distinctive female figure shadowed itself amongst the rest of the muck, just a shape and nothing more.
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A/N: Ok, I am immediately going to answer some questions that may arise, so that it won’t completely be a weird chapter.
1.) Is Goten a descendent or relative of Vegeta?
No, absolutely not, that would be gross. You must remember, Bra is his mate, and if that was so it would be like incest, and completely and utterly wrong. So sorry, the obvious is not the answer.
2.) Why is the chapter called “Vanquished” if the victor of the battle it not said?
The title of this chapter simply relates to the fact that someone did indeed when the battle, it was no tie, so someone is laying at the bottom of that crater dead, and the other, though injured, is still alive.
3.) What is exactly going on with Pan?
Ok, the problem everyone was revering earlier is not due to the fact that she is pregnant, though I am sure you got that impression when in the last chapter when she was spitting up blood. And so, if you have ever watched Full Metal Alchemist, and seen Edward and Alphonse’s teacher you will see too, that she had no internal organs. Thus, this is what happened to Pan. Now, if Pan is pregnant or not, is something you’ll find out later on. I’m not saying she is, and I’m not saying she isn’t. You must be patient.
If there is anymore questions, just ask, I’ll be glad to answer them. But if you are anonymous and don’t leave you’re email address I’m afraid it will be rather hard for me to answer questions.
Undercover
By: CowgirlUSA
Chapter 18: Vanquished
Trunks sat up quickly, sweat pouring off his forehead as his mind swam with unwanted images of the fierce battle. His fists shook as anger engulfed him, controlling him, taking over the rational portion of his brain. His love, the one he cared about the most was gone. It was wrong, terribly so, it wasn’t supposed to end like this, wasn’t supposed to be it.By: CowgirlUSA
Chapter 18: Vanquished
Dreams of the future fell away from view, everything he had dreamed of, everything he had hoped for was gone. The life he had dreamed to spend with that woman was forever lost in a void that could not be escaped. Trunks felt no will to live, what was left to look forward too, if the thing that meant the most was lost from your grasp?
Falling back onto the silken sheets, the man let that white hot rage boil within him, let his take over. He didn’t care about anything anymore, nothing mattered but exacting his revenge upon the woman who had killed her. Trunks’ fangs lengthened in preparation for slaughter, he was excited about this, and that other half of him was disgusted at the prospect.
Yelling at the top of his lungs, various ogres running in to hear his screams of ire, Trunks let all his feelings out. He let no tears fall, but that white lightning that struck within him would not relent, and he needed to fume some how. So with a mighty roar, and an wall shattering punch, the prince walked out of the room, red shining in his eyes.
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Bra looked out upon that horrible battleground, waiting and praying to see a figure arise from the crater which had once been the backyard. Nothing stirred in that awful cloud of dust and dirt, not figure of a woman silhouetted itself from the falling debris. A knot of worry shot from within her, a fear so deep, so unnameable that she couldn’t tell the other’s what was tearing her apart from the inside out.
Wiping tears from her redden cheeks, Bra continued to stare out the back doors, her entire being shaking in a dreaded anticipation. There were so many what if’s, too many in that matter. Many questions and dreaded outcomes came to her mind, but were ignored and pushed away as the teen looked out, squinting her eyes in a desperate try.
Sighing, the hope dying from her breast, a new fear gripped her heart, tearing it to shreds and leaving it dead. She had tried to communicate with Goten, yet the other end was completely dead. No voice was answering her back, no comforting words to ease her aching organ which pounded noisily in her chest.
Desperate cries were sent out telepathically, her tears both inward and outward gushing forth like a dam that had broke. Bra’s soul felt like shattering, falling to pieces and falling to the bottom where her feet were located. Nothing moved, nothing, and oh how desperately she wanted anything to stir in that inky nothingness.
Bra sank to the floor in a crumpled heap, her legs no longer able to support her weight. Her hands covered her face in a desperate attempt to hide from the world that was caving in around her. She wanted to disappear from sight, to hide forever from the pain of reality that refused to let her go.
Sobs of despair would not cease, and so as the night remained deathly calm, the blue haired mother-to-be cried out her woes, alone, on the kitchen’s tile floor.
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V idel sat upon the bed that her and her husband had shared only the previous night. His scent was still strong, lingering upon the bed sheets and pillowcases. Burying her head in those soft comforts, the young woman tried desperately to dispell all her woes that plagued her over anxious mind. She could not help but feel despair at what would come of this horrific time, of this future that seemed so bleak.
Sniffling, Videl wrapped herself within the blankets, forming a cocoon that she could escape into. She felt so useless sitting here and tearing up at every little new development that arose from the world. She couldn’t find any comfort for any of her sorrows, which only caused her state to worsen.
Her bottom lip trembling, Videl tried to remain calm, tried to keep her heartache inside of herself, to hide it from the others. They were suffering enough, they didn’t need her worries added to that list.
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Ch i Chi sat remotely upon the living room couch, wringing her hands and staring blankly at the black television screen. She felt nothing at the moment, her body and soul completely numb to the heart wrenching sobs that echoed hauntingly throughout the house. She felt no fear, no anger, no anticipation, nothing, it was all the same as it use to be, and so she felt numb.
Chi Chi had rode this roller coaster numerous times, and had found it a trivial thing to waste one’s energy on whimpering about it. But as many times as she said this to herself, she knew it to be a lie. It was proven so once Goku would walk in that door, and she would throw her arms around his neck and cry til she fell asleep in his arms.
So, now, more logically, she supposed, she did it to remain strong, to be the backbone for those who could not hold up on their own. The other women needed this strength, needed to see that surety that never left her dark eyes. Chi Chi knew this, and understood it. In fact, she could remember a time when she had wished for this same kind of sturdy reassurance when Goku had first started these escapades, but of course, she never got it.
Sighing once more, Chi Chi let go of the turmoil that rested in her heart, she would not let it bother her any longer. At least, not where others could see. She would remain strong, and be the supporting beam that all the other’s clung too, it was her duty, a duty she regarded with a proud air.
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< br> Goku looked upon the fallen minions with sympathy, with an empathy that not many could possess for the one’s that had wanted his demise. His heartbeat was steady, but the organ ached uncontrollably at the sight of the large massacre. The bodies, or rather piles of dust, that littered the ground was uncountable, an unfathomable number.
Goku had long since lost sight of his fellow comrades, of the warriors which had fought along side him, he wished them well. He couldn’t since their ki, couldn’t distinguish one shape from another in the great haze of falling debris. Everything was so dead, so lifeless that it scarred even someone like himself to the bone. And in the middle of all this was his granddaughter, whether alive or diseased he did not know.
Sighing dejectedly, the great male slumped to the ground, determined to wait out for everything clear, or at least until he could see three feet in front of his nose. Blowing a stray particle from his nose, the lithe figure drummed his figures upon the ground in a bored fashion. He traced patterns with his fingers amongst the remnants of their battle, depicting small little bunnies hopping about carelessly.
Looking up into the brown, dirt covered sky, Goku mentally urged the clouds to leave and let him breath the scent of air into his lungs once more. His sensitive nose rebuked the putrid smell as much as it was able, trying to dispel the horrid stench from memory. His teeth gleamed in what little light penetrated through the dense fog, and his face turned pale once more.
A stench, so strong and horrible that it made his stomach turn, made his bowls fill with pricking needles. He dry heaved, trying to rid that taste from his pallet, to leave the rancid taste behind upon the decaying ground. But no matter the amount of effort Goku put into ridding himself of that awful thing, it would not leave him, would not retreat to other worlds.
But, through all the years of this scent, he could not grow use to its unique, and utterly fowl stench. But that’s what it was like, the blood that flooded the ground and stained it an unnatural color. The ogres had not bothered him, for they were pure dust after their defeat, nothing more, and nothing less. But this, this was the scent of one thing, and one thing alone. The horrid smell of decaying death.
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Gohan leaned against the tree, breathing greedily for any amount of air in that matter, not being as greedy as his father previously had. He did not wish for pure air, only oxygen in any shape or form. He cursed that stray minion who had snuck behind him, attacking, and ultimately collapsing one lung entirely, and the other more than half. And he knew, if he was any more human than he was, he would have died long ago.
His pride hurt, and Gohan knew that it was not good, not in the least, to harm a Saiyan’s pride. And that fool had. After time had passed, and he pondered on his actions, he felt guilty for the earlier occurrences. The torture that thing had gone through was inexcusable, and he felt sorry for that, but at the time, all he had care about was seeing blood, it’s blood. And he had, oh how he had.
Gohan, the one that everyone thought would be the prodigy for Saiyans, had figured out how to pierce their armor like skin. It was something Vegeta had taught him, something he had only barely grasped as a child. A punch infused with strong ki could slice through them like butter, and he had exulted himself in that feeling. Torturing him with small, yet deep wounds, that would sustain his life til the very last moment when he sentenced him to the painful death of dust.
Looking at his soiled hands, the male wondered silently what had possessed him exactly? What inhuman being had flown down from the heaven and encased his body so he had no control? He was disgusted with himself, in fact, Gohan felt defiled in some strange circumstance, he was astonished at his earlier behavior. This, coming from the boy who needed his father to become severely injured or die before he could truly unleash his power. It was just unthinkable.
Dejectedly the tall man slid to the ground, rubbing his hands together in a desperate attempt to rid them of the awful stench of death, he doubted he would ever get use to it, unlike his brother. He had noted, several times in fact, when things gone desperate, Goten held no inner turmoil about taking the life of some simpleton, why himself and their sire did.
Goten, who had been the exact replica of their father, who had cared more about training and becoming and hero rather than what their mother thought. Goten, who he had taken under his wing when young since he had never knew his father, had taught him all he knew. And now, no longer a child, but a full grown male with a mate and pups on the way. A male which had become even more ruthless than he had previously been.
Thinking back, Gohan remembered every look that crossed his brother’s eyes when he had fought today. No regret shone forth, only a fierce determination to fight for what he believed in and his family which hid behind stone walls. The little brother which had surpassed him strength because of that uncaring nature for his enemies. He had known it for quite sometime, though, possibly, not as long as his own daughter and her mate.
Rubbing his temples, Gohan wondered silently if this was a good thing, or something completely wrong. Why was Goten so different from his father and himself, and held so many characteristics of the Briefs’ linage? More to the point, why did Vegeta’s characteristics keep shining through? Why did Goten seem so much like his daughter’s sensei?
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Go ten’s eyes looked upon the ground in complete astonishment, in complete unbelieving realization. It had happened once again, that undeniable thrill of battle, that lust of blood that would not leave, the ecstacy of the kill. He shuttered momentarily, fearing for what was happening to his soul, to what was occurring within his body.
Thinking of Bra, Goten wondered momentarily of what was occurring to her at this very moment. She must be worried, but he could not let her back into his mind at this moment, he could not let her see this demon inside of him. This raging beast that thirsted only of two things, bloodlust, and sexual. During that state he felt nothing but those two things, no emotions played forth in either of the two, and he wanted his mate to not even considered that he did not love her, that he had mated her only for her physical attributes.
Considering each view of what occurred, Goten sat upon his haunches, doing something he rarely did in any circumstance, something his best friend and brother would be equally thrilled at, he thought, deeply. Different possibilities formulated in his now overactive mind, trying to decipher from reality, and from fiction. But everything seemed to be muddled into one blurred image. An image that refused to disappear.
He knew, or at least thought he did, of himself being at least part of Goku’s lineage, but fully was another question altogether. Goten had known, from the very beginning, that there was something different, something odd compared to the rest of his ancestors. To put it simply, Goten did not fit in with all the other’s that came before him. He did not quite belong in that sprawling family tree of his.
Disturbingly, in fact, he had noticed certain characteristics that matched his own, and Vegeta’s heritage, which, to put it frankly, scared the shit out of him. When not in battle, he fit in with the Sons perfectly, but when fighting he was an opposite, and fit more with that ways of his friends. And to put it mildly, the reason for this could possibly be far more terrifying than his characteristics he had been displaying.
Deciding not to dwell on the matter any further, Goten rested his eyes, laying his head against the grime that resided on the ground. Though conscious he may have decided to think of the predicament any longer, unconscious was a whole other aspect. Goten would not sleep easy this night.
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Gaku sat dejectedly upon his perch, wondering what troubled his mother so, though he had a relatively good idea. His father had yet to return, and the world that had held that might display of power still was troubled with unrested warriors. He did not possess deep thoughts like that of his elders, but he knew what emotions swam through their vision as they mourned for what could be. And he knew, without a doubt, that whatever laid upon the horizon was far more catastrophic than what had happened this far.
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Gouki, who was experiencing similar thoughts as his nephew, waiting silently in the shadows, watching his mother. She sat regally upon the furniture, ignoring all other influences form the outside world. He had never seen her so indifferent to what was happening, to was occurring to her own family. Yet here, to prove the point, she sat, plainly refusing to show any emotion on that usual expressive face.
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Baku scowled from his place on the roof, pointedly wishing to fight alongside his father against the brainless idiots. Raw hatred boiled within his veins, how dare they attack this home, they were royal, and those intruders had now soiled the land with their presence. He had hardly tolerated the fact that the Son family, though relatively high in status, was allowed to live within the confines of this makeshift castle.
But more so, now that those barbarians had shed their filth upon the land, Baku was livid. He knew of his regal heritage, and divined in it as any young ruler should do with this knowledge, though he would not be a young ruler. Trunks, his eldest brother was the one to rule the kingdom, though he thought him to be too kind hearted to really do so. And if something happened to him, his sister, now that she was bearing offspring, and the possible chance of a male child, kicked him out of the way completely, and put the Son’s in charge. Bearing his small fangs, Baku tried to hide the anger that welled up inside his chest, he was the only suitable prince.
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Piccolo kicked another pile of dust out of the way, not wanting to dirty his clothing in any shape or form. This really was bothersome, and he felt quite annoyed that he had to trudge around in such ridiculous conditions. Wondering momentarily if the others were well, especially that of his pupil and friend, the Namekian continued upon his trek.
He really cared not for the others, aside from the strange female that was his pupil’s offspring, and the one that would help decide the fate of two races. Somehow, though he knew not why, she had wormed her way into his heart, filling up various holes that were hard to fill. But the others, including that of his friend’s middle spawn held no importance to him, as well as the hot headed king who could die for all he cared.
Unlike the others, Piccolo knew of what happened several years ago, when Goku was gone, and Chi Chi was left alone. He knew the reason behind Goten’s strange behaviors, knew why he acted like a more pure Saiyan than any of the other’s, besides the one known as Baku. Yes, he had figured it out long ago through intense conversations he had over heard throughout the years. And yet, he did not utter a word.
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“Vegeta, she can’t take anymore, she just can’t,” Bulma was huddled upon the cold floor, leaning her head against the steel walls.
“I know this woman, do you think me ignorant of these facts?” scowling at his rude behavior, Bulma seethed quietly behind her well worn mask.
“Yes, I am well aware of your knowledge, but to put it simply, I don’t think you know exactly what is wrong with her,” as if speaking to a child, the blue haired woman watched as her mate’s face became scrunched in annoyance.
“Does that really matter?” his voice dripped with venom, his eyes heated as he told her that it shouldn’t matter to what the girl was suffering from, only that she was terribly ill.
“But it does! Oh does it ever you stupid baka!” Bulma lost control and jumped to her feet, fists bared at her side.
“Watch you tongue you wench,” Vegeta glared daggers at her, knowing fully that it would not bother her like it did so many others.
“Well do you want me to explain or not, you hotheaded jackass,” she neither yelled nor hissed this, but only whispered, but a silent hush that was so deadly that it almost made the king flinch... almost.
“Do whatever you please, I see no reason why you must...” he trailed off as her hand made contact with his solid cheek. It did not hurt him physically, but having his mate strike him hurt him to the core, though he did not show it.
“Now, if you’ll just shut up, maybe we can get some where, good. Now, before you went off on your hotheaded speech, I was going to tell you my theory on what has happened to her body. You see, Takakazu was livid when he realized that Trunks had mated with Pan, and thus decided to exact his revenge, which he did readily. But he did not take it out on the body he was housed in, he took out on her. He destroyed all her organs, leaving only behind her womb, though why he gave her that much I do not know. But either way, seeing as her body is much more tolerable of these things, it excepted this new change, and made changes of its own to help. So, she has no organs, nothing do you understand now?” a dawning of sorts seemed to take form, and Bulma smiled in triumph.
“There is only one problem with your theory woman,” raising her eyebrow in a questioning fashion, she mentally debated on letting him have his time to gloat.
“And what would that be?” Bulma placed her manicured hands upon her hips, deciding to find his reasoning behind his statement.
“If she has no lungs, what does she breath with, if she has no heart, how does blood circulate through her body, and if no brain, how does she think?” all these questions were good, but most were one’s she could not answer.
“I don’t know, but she does have a brain, I met her organs down in lower areas, I didn’t mean to lead you to that conclusion. But as for the heart and lungs, I told you, her body adjusted I suppose, all I can tell you is those organs have all disappeared,” shrugging her shoulders in complete wonderment, she looked away from the man before her.
“This is quite interesting, something I’m going to have to look into, perhaps my father’s journals would be of help,” Vegeta seemed to be lost in his own world, those dark irises seeing something she could not.
“Perhaps, but, Vegeta, before you leave, answer me this, why did you get out of that, while the others did not? And don’t give me that lame excuse of you being superior to the others,” he looked at her, his eyes locking with her own, something they usually did not do, not when this emotion was flowing through them both.
“Honestly, the truth, the sight. I know you don’t know much about it, and only few with the royal blood possess it, and I happen to have it,” embracing her, encircling her with his warmth and pulling her to the wall of his chest.
“I know some, the sight is something that can let a Saiyan of royal birth to see through the darkest of hours, and through the murkiest of clouds, but that’s about it,” looking up at him, she felt the love flowing from him that he did not speak of verbally.
“Correct, but your knowledge is limited, so I advise you to read on it in future times, but until then, I shall give you the abridged version. I can see the makeups of anything I choose. I could trace you’re entire family tree by just concentrating correctly on your body. And thus is how I found out about Goten,” resting his chin upon her head, Vegeta thought of the time when he had discovered that horrid secret.
“So, that’s how you knew,” closing her eyes, Bulma mentally prayed, for Goku’s sake, that he never learned the truth of that day, many years ago.
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(Little hint, this is in a narrator’s voice, more dramatic that way)
Now, as we look upon that battle scene which had been filled at one time with so much hatred, now lay cold and still. The soft whisper of the wind did not dispel what events had happened in this spot. The crater which is indescribably large still is there, though none can see it, even now as Goten sits only three feet from its edge.
None of our warriors know of the outcome of their niece, granddaughter, and daughter, or Pan to put it more simply. No ki can be sensed of either of the two, and so each and everyone of them, with no other path to lead them away from the conclusion, have decided them both dead. Their energies far to enormous to be contained in their two small bodies, to be absorbed without destroying the winner of the brawl. Forever deciding the outcome of this world which has housed far more creatures than the humans would ever hope to conceive.
So as four figures walked from the rubble, no one was surprised, no one was expecting anymore. Goku, Goten, Gohan, and Piccolo, four great warriors, four noble warriors that had risked both life and limb for what they loved, yet they weren’t the best. The two greatest warriors to ever live were not here, one was forever lost, and the other somewhere far off, fighting an evil prince inside their own body.
Videl was the first to rush forward, to wrap her arms around Gohan’s neck and embrace him like she had never done before. To nuzzle his now uncovered chest with the side of her cheek, and reassure herself that he was real, and not leaving her. To feel his muscle ripple underneath her touch when her arms tightened in strength as her tears splashed down her emotionally battered face.
Goku walked up to his mate, pulling her to him as she let the turmoil of her earlier struggles drain away. She felt safe, and for some odd reason, away from all others besides him as she let him comfort her as best as he knew how. Her hands scrunched his tattered clothing, bunching it until it disintegrated from under her touch. But, Chi Chi did not care, she could care less of his worn cloth, or the outcome of this horrendous fight, all she cared about at the moment was that he was alive, and that her grand-baby had not walked through the mist with them. A conquering hero.
Bra had fallen to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably in a jubilee of sorts, her mate was alive and well, something she had not been too sure of mere moments before. That tall male walked to her, his demons well hidden, and took her in his arms, whispering soft words that are met for only their ears, so I will leave them as such.
Gouki and Gaku jumped up and down in uncontrollable glee, hugging each other as they struggled to keep themselves under control. Baku, who stood before the home, his back resting upon the firm structure even had a smirk upon his usually cold features, and unreadable emotion flashing through his dark eyes.
All celebrated, and yet all mourned. Two completely opposite emotions, yet so easily ran together that it often became one. For example, in case you readers of this ancient tale are slightly confused, at the funeral of a loved one, are you not sad? You are, you will deeply miss that person, for even if small, they made a significance in your life. Yet, think of it this way, what if that person had been suffering from something terribly painful for the last year or so, would you not feel happy that they finally found peace from their pain? Most with a good heart would see this, am I correct? So, as I have clearly pointed out, these two feelings, though opposite, often coincide with another so splendidly that one must think hard to remember whether they are sad, or in a strange way, joyous. So, can you answer me that question, were they happy? Or perhaps, were they sad?
Either way, it does not matter for this moment, though it may become essential for you to try and answer that rather dubious question. Though I know most would thrust out an answer and go about their lives, it is better to concentrate and ponder this, truly thinking of which is more true, and which emotion is stronger and correct. It should give you a more in depth look at the human heart, or more importantly, the human soul.
But, as you have clearly noticed, things have slid out of place, obscuring the true tale from view, though the meaning has not. But more with the story, as you have clearly witnessed, all were weeping, crying upon the shoulders of their loved one for what is what you must decipher.
All I am permitted to say about this turn of event is as follows.
Piccolo, who had been dutifully minding his own business, suddenly had stood erect, his eyes widening and his ears straining. His took a step forward, his breath hitching in anticipation as something trudged through the wreckage. Who it was could not be identified, only his ears, those large, keen appendages, could pick up the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.
The others noticed his difference in positions, and followed his gaze toward the thinning cloud, though still was too dense for the sight of these soldiers to penetrate with their steady gazes. But as all thought the Namekian insane, a shadow, a fleeting figure, appeared in that murky air, and then disappeared just as quickly.
All breathing stopped, all hearts quit beating as a distinctive female figure shadowed itself amongst the rest of the muck, just a shape and nothing more.
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A/N: Ok, I am immediately going to answer some questions that may arise, so that it won’t completely be a weird chapter.
1.) Is Goten a descendent or relative of Vegeta?
No, absolutely not, that would be gross. You must remember, Bra is his mate, and if that was so it would be like incest, and completely and utterly wrong. So sorry, the obvious is not the answer.
2.) Why is the chapter called “Vanquished” if the victor of the battle it not said?
The title of this chapter simply relates to the fact that someone did indeed when the battle, it was no tie, so someone is laying at the bottom of that crater dead, and the other, though injured, is still alive.
3.) What is exactly going on with Pan?
Ok, the problem everyone was revering earlier is not due to the fact that she is pregnant, though I am sure you got that impression when in the last chapter when she was spitting up blood. And so, if you have ever watched Full Metal Alchemist, and seen Edward and Alphonse’s teacher you will see too, that she had no internal organs. Thus, this is what happened to Pan. Now, if Pan is pregnant or not, is something you’ll find out later on. I’m not saying she is, and I’m not saying she isn’t. You must be patient.
If there is anymore questions, just ask, I’ll be glad to answer them. But if you are anonymous and don’t leave you’re email address I’m afraid it will be rather hard for me to answer questions.
Next Chapter:
Chapter 19: Reunited
Chapter 19: Reunited