A "What-if" DBZ Fanfic By: Ryquest
It has been a long time.
This planet, which I have grudgingly come to call home, is somewhat of a marvel. Perhaps one day I will thank Kakarotto for not having destroyed it. Chikyuu is a far cry from Vejiitaeshi, where I had been born and raised Prince of the Saiyajin race. There, I lived in one huge arena, of fighting, and bloodshed. And I had enjoyed it, thrived in it, until it was destroyed unwittingly by he who had masqueraded as a friend to the Saiyans. Well, Freeza is gone now, destroyed by Son Gokou, by Kakarotto who has to restore the legend of the Super Saiyajin. The first of two pureblooded Saiyans to have attained that level. And I am the other.
Kakarotto is a puzzle to me, actually. The blow to his head must have addled not only his brains, but his heart as well. No Saiyan, before the destruction of our planet, would have been as kind, as warmhearted as he. Had he been that way back home, he would have been killed in one of the tournaments for palace guards. He surely would have been a participant, just as Bardock and Radittsu were. Yet he is a strong man physically, much more so in spirit. A mighty and worthy warrior. My greatest threat. My worthiest ally.
Chikyuu. Ah, but this planet had altered me more than I would care to admit. Perhaps because I am a Prince in title, yet a wandering Prince with no kingdom left but shattered memories of a place that was and a crown that I can no longer claim. Yet I carry the pride of my race with me now, just as I always will. Just as perhaps Son Gohan and Son Goten will, to a lesser extent, being sons of a low-class yet surprisingly noble warrior. Just as Trunks should, by right, born of royalty, be the best warrior that he could possibly be. A son I had met all grown up, once, when he had come from the future to save a world he has never and will never know. Purple-haired, rakishly handsome, soft-spoken yet confident, with a definite purpose and strong resolution to be all that he can possibly be. I watch over my son now, still a kid, precocious and arrogant, yet who possesses a fighting spirit that not yet quite rivals my own. Still purple-haired. He would have been an oddity, had he been born in Vejiitaeshi. Much more so because he had been born to me of a human mate.
Had I been so desperate once as to mate with a human? I still wonder about that at times. Yet I remember the pride and envy I felt when I first met my future son. He had become a Super Saiyajin before I. Yet I applaud the fact that I had sired someone like him, regal and strong, yet gentle and quite amiable. At that moment, I saw his mother in him even before he mentioned her name. Someone who caught my eye occasionally, but whom I had never bothered to show any outward interest in. Yet at the moment that I had locked eyes with future Trunks, my son, I knew I should never let her mother go. I saw the regret and accusation mirrored in his eyes, because his father had been proud and arrogant, and had gotten killed for that Vejita had fought before he was ready to challenge the robots. He had died and left the world a much grimmer place. I still recall that moment, for I knew that I still would have done the same thing. That left my son with Son Gohan for a mentor, yet even Kakarotto's son had not been enough. And yet, I mused, had I been alive and more prepared, perhaps I would have been enough of a warriors to deal the bastards with a final defeat.
Which brings me to the question of my mate. Bulma. What did I quite see in her, actually? She'd always been bitchy to me, to say the least. When we first me, I swear she was ready to plunge a dagger through my heart had she been able to. She has always been close to Kakarotto, and she resented the fact that I hurt him, hated him for almost defeating me in battle. That was then. Now, she is still not quite openly affectionate, yet I prefer that. Her gentle smile. Her quiet voice. Her soft lips. Her comforting warmth. The way that she has understood my aloofness and oftentimes brusqueness and taken it for love. We do not speak of feelings often. For I have never been that sort of man. And she is not that sort of woman, either, no matter how tough an exterior front she manages to put up. We are similar, she and I. She is stronger than I in some aspects. Had I been back in Vejiitaeshi, I would have chosen another mate. A better fighter, certainly. Someone worthy of being in combat with the Prince. I chuckle. Bulma and I are in constant combat, anyway. Her chosen arena, however, involves the use of words, and in that I grant her the satisfaction of winning.
Footsteps warn me of an approaching presence. Yet I sense her ki before she reaches the gravity room. The time has come then. I stare at the door and wait for her arrival. The gravity room deactivates, and I float to the ground. The door turns. And I will come to face she who is, unwittingly, the ray of light in a dark and jaded life.
He spars again. Trains by himself. As if he can get any stronger. But then again, fighting has always been a way of life to him. I share Chichi's sentiments in that our husbands have mistresses whom we cannot hope to directly compete with. And, while we hold their trust, their love for combat always appear to be greater. Still, sometimes I feel as if I had gotten the better end of the bargain with Vejita. At least he is with me, while Son-kun is away. I pity Chichi sometimes, yet I admire her for being so strong-willed and selfless. And she has two fine sons. Son Gohan, whom I had met when he was a wee lad of four, and is now a smart and fine young man. Not too shabby a warrior either. And Son Goten, who is a spitting image of Son-kun, particularly when I first met him in the search for those magical Dragonballs.
My life's greatest triumphs and regrets had been partially linked to those seven shining balls that have the power to make any single wish come true. Sure, I'd wanted a boyfriend at the start, and while it didn't turn out the way I'd wanted, I did have a nice time with Yamcha. He might not have been the sweetest and most desirable guy around, but he made for a decent boyfriend. And he'd also been obsessed with fighting. Must be my tough luck for ending up with guys like that. Of course there were times when I considered a liaison with Son-kun. Gokou is a fairly charming guy, if only for his innocence and boyish look. But he had Chichi, and the two of them were content together. Happy even. So that left me with one other guy to consider.
Vejita. Man, I never thought I'd fall for the guy, but I married him. He's rude, conceited, and overly proud. And those were his good points, I might add. He wasn't the drop-dead handsome type, but he had a sleek body and an appealing smirk that actually passed for a smile. And yet, here I am, mother to a son and a daughter by him. Trunks, who except for the purple hair is almost his image, and Bra, who is just so cuddly and adorable, and the object of Vejita's affection even if he won't admit he's mad about his daughter. Hell, I could never make him admit that he's mad about me, though I sense he is. Come to think of it, that is what our relationship is based on. Sensing, not telling. I can sense him—whether he's pleased or angry or sad or whatever. He says that is because I'm his mate and that I'm bonded to him in spirit of sorts. In that bond, though, there's a sort of pulsing tie of warmth between the two of us, and that's where I sense that we're one, that's he's mine as much as I'm his. That he will die to defend me. That what he feels for me is love, the Saiyajin way maybe.
Son-kun returns to life for a day today, and I'm glad that his sons will be glad to see him. Gohan, who's now the default guardian of the earth, aside from my husband who will never admit to quite being content of Chikyuu. Goten, who so much wants to get to know his father, even if they only see each other for brief instances at a time. Trunks, who admires Gokou almost as much as he does his father. His wife, Chichi, of course, who has always remained faithful and loving to Gokou. Me included, of course. I'd been dearly fond of Son-kun as a friend ever since I met him and came to know just how loyal and brave he was. And Vejita, even if it's probably because he'll get the chance to fight Gokou just to see who's stronger this time.
I track Vejita down to the gravity room. At least I haven't had to fix it this month. Well, not yet, anyway. After their match, I just might have to reconstruct it…again. At least it keeps him satisfied. Not entirely happy. I doubt if Vejita ever becomes truly happy. I flip the switch to shut down the gravity level. Heaven knows what'll happen to me if I enter the room at the level he sets it in. Might be flattened to a pulp against the wall or something. There, I open the door. And I face him, who waits patiently in the shadows. The light envelops the room, and I come face to face with the man whose soul sometimes seemed as dark as night itself.
"Vejita," I call out as I approach him, crouched in the corner with his arms folded neatly and eyes closed. "Son-kun just arrived. And he'll be coming over tonight."
"Ee," he mumbled, smirking slightly. "I know. I felt his ki."
"So much for surprises," I muttered as I sat beside him. "Then again, I forget that I'm a lowly woman and that you're some great Saiyajin Prince."
He stared at me for the first time since I entered the room, and I sat there captivated by his piercing, dark eyes. This happens sometimes, when I get trapped in his gaze somehow, and I try to fathom out the secrets hidden within those depths. Then, just when I come to see a glimmer of light, he shuts is off. I have become used to it. I doubt if he has ever let anyone look into his soul. Whether for fear or need for privacy, I do not know. But there are those eyes again. Liquid pools of light and shadow. So closely intertwined, yet as distant to me as the planet from whence he came from itself.
"Iie," he stated coldly. "Not lowly. You will never be lowly. But you are right, I am a Prince of my people, including that idiot Kakarotto." He capped of his statement with a sarcastic smile.
"There you go again," I sighed. "So pragmatic. You almost act like an arrogant jerk, but somehow I love you more for it, you know."
"That, too, I know."
He turned to face me and grasped my hand. He kissed me with as much passion as I had become familiar with. I felt the pulse of that tie between us again, warmer this time. I closed my eyes to savor his nearness to me, for he was seldom affectionate. He broke our kiss but continued to hold me. I snuggled contentedly against his chest. Perhaps that was another reason why I loved being close to him. He had a perfectly sculpted body, and he made no secret of that.
"Bulma."
"Uhm, what? Have to go train again? I'm in your way or something?"
"Bulma."
"Okay, I'll go. Just a few minutes longer. This really is comfortable, you know."
"Bulma."
I raised my head at the firmness and subtle urgency of his tone. He cupped my chin with one hand and forced my gaze to meet his. He smiled grimly, and trapped me with his stare. There it was again, the conflict of darkness and light in his eyes. And yet, this time, he did not hold me back from its depths.
I shuddered from the violence that the darkness in his soul had. I knew it was from the people and beings he killed, from the murders he had unwittingly committed. Yet he made no secret of them. I saw that he was still as much of a warrior as when I met him. The perfect fighting machine. Cunning and ruthless. Yet, somehow, no longer heartless. For he had woven a fabric of light in that darkness. And I saw then the man he was underneath it all. True, he was arrogant and proud and noble. Yet he was a devotedly attached man. To Bra. To Trunks. And most of all, to me. Just as he will be till the day of his death.
"Do you see? Honto ni aishiteru. And I hope you will never forget, no matter if I never mention it again."
"Aa, I won't. Watashi mo aishiteru, Vejita-sama."
He sneered at the use of his royal title, a title that was still his, yet had no kingdom to claim. But he gently embraced me before stepping away and heading for the exit. He did not look back, nor did he need to. He opened the door to step out, yet he turned to face me before leaving.
"I expect food, woman," he remarked. "The way that idiot Kakarotto eats, and with your friends with him, I expect that you'll have plenty prepared."
"Of course there will be," I smiled. "But it will really be nice to have Son-kun over again."
"I will beat him this time," he stated with finality. "And make no mistake." With that, he went out and shut the door behind me.
"That overbearing fool won't change." I sighed. There he was with his mistress once again. He will fight, and once again, he is a warrior with no chinks in his armor. Yet I will not lose him. For his darkness has now become mine, just as my light has become his.
I head for the door to make the preparations for the meal that is to come. I open the door and watch how for a short instance, the gravity room is flooded by the light from beyond. Then I shut the door, and the light fades into the darkness, in anticipation of what is to come.
Just a note: "aishiteru" means "I love you" in Japanese.
Disclaimer: The characters here in no way belong to me. They are from "Dragon Ball Z" and copyright of Akira Toriyama-sama and Toei Animation. Fanfic for entertainment purposes only.
There. That's it, my Vejita-Bulma story. This piece takes place sometime after the Cell saga before the Buu saga goes in full swing (more or less). For comments and suggestions, please mail to Ryquest. Arigato! (thanks)