Best Left Forgotten 5


Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama not me, and I make no money from this at all. Story contains rape and YAOI! If you don’t care for that, don’t read.


            Goku’s keen ears strained to here ever noise that came from the hall outside his bed in the medical wing, while he still feigned sleep, trying to make some sense of his earlier dream.

            He had unconsciously wrapped the soft white cloth of Piccolo’s cloak around himself, even that slight reminder of the green warrior’s presence felt like a balm.

            The memory of what he had felt during that dream made his face flush.

            Why Piccolo? He thought. I don’t even know if he has the equipment!

            The thought of asking Piccolo if he could mate made him duck his face.

            /Hey, Piccolo, I had this dream where we made passionate love; can you do that in real life?/

            For some reason he couldn’t see that happening.

            Also, this was Piccolo he was thinking about. He had never been attracted to men…

            Sometimes a dream is just a dream, he soothed himself, biting his lip. And that’s all that this it was; a dream.



            Piccolo and Gohan had already started to pack supplies into capsules, and Bulma was fussing over the ship. Piccolo was lost in thought, as to what had happened.

            Chi-Chi had gone to the kitchens of CC and was cooking up a storm, handling the pain she saw, and felt helpless to do anything about, in her own way. By Kami, if she couldn’t go with them, she would make sure they ate right!

            Tears were standing in her eyes as she chopped the inoffensive food, imagining it was that monster’s limbs. She only noticed how much force she was using when the blade of the cleaver shattered against the cutting board.

            “I think it’s dead,” said a voice from the doorway.

            Not turning, and picking up another knife, she found a large hindquarter that had been set out by one of the service ‘bots and started to remove meat from bone.

            “I want what’s best for my husband, Piccolo,” she said, still not turning to face him. “Although, I have not always known what that would be. I tried to keep him home, keep him safe, but he was always running off, like any wild thing. He couldn’t be tamed.”

            She wiped her face briskly, and sniffed, hoping that Piccolo would only think it was the onions.

            “Maybe what he needed was someone who could fight with him all the time, and keep his back covered. I could have done that, once.”

            She threw some noodles into hot water, forcefully enough that she splattered water all over the walls.

            “But I didn’t. Intellect tells me that even if I had been there, there would have been nothing I could have done to help.”

            The meat had been cleaned from the bone, and she started to cut that into different cuts of meat, for different dishes.

            “Still, I tried to take care of them, as best I could.”

            Her sniffing got louder.

            “I yelled at him. If I had known what had happened, would I still have yelled? Why couldn’t I have protected him from this!”

            Piccolo watched stoically as she continued to methodically kill any raw foods in the kitchen. He had thought at times that this woman was a loud-mouthed annoyance- but she had loved Goku and her sons. With a sudden insight, he realized that what he had considered as pushiness was protectiveness. Chi-Chi had sought, with all the strength in her human will and body, to keep her family safe. If safe meant not fighting, then by heaven and hell, she would keep them home.

            “I can’t protect him now, can I?” she asked rhetorically, and now, most of the vegetables were so finely chopped they could have been shredded.

            Piccolo stayed silent.

            “Goku is a wild thing, still, right now, shy, frightened, and confused. I’m afraid that I would hurt him more. Oh, I know that I can’t physically, but Piccolo-“

            Piccolo was completely unprepared for what happened next. Chi-Chi had spun with more speed than he thought she had, and her cleaver was at the base of his neck.

            “Bring them both back. Both of them, heart and mind whole. Goku may come back to me, he might not, but I want him happy, safe, and able to live again. This- this thing that happened to him, just isn’t right. And if you do not take care of them, I will hunt you down, by Kami, and even death won’t save you from me!
            Her voice had gotten higher with each word, and louder, and Piccolo, despite the difference in power levels, put his hands up in defense. Swallowing hard, he nodded, acknowledging what she said.

            “I swear.”

            He noticed that the hand that held the cleaver was shaking. He was struck with how much she cared for Goku. Almost- like a mother.

            “I’ll bring your boys back safely, Chi-Chi,” he told her, and she nodded.

            “He’d never admit it, but Goku needs someone looking out for him. You’ll do just fine. Make sure he eats right, okay? And gets plenty of sleep?”

            Piccolo nodded again. For some reason this seemed like she was passing Goku on to him.



            Goku sighed, and sat up. His mind was going around in little circles, like a mouse at the bottom of a barrel. The memories had been so painful. He knew, intellectually, that the rape and his children’s deaths were over, and done with, and that he should get on with his life. He had two other children and a wife.

            His gut would have none of it. His instinctual confidence in himself had been shattered. Yet, he had killed Furiza, hadn’t he?

            He had won, what was it about it that he couldn’t let go?

            He had wanted to forget, and yet he had felt guilt about forgetting. His babies had deserved better than that.

            He whimpered, the beautiful thought of his Gaea being twisted by the thought of their father-, which started the whole cycle again.

            “You’re not the first person he’s done that to,” said a harsh, mocking voice, and Goku looked up to see Vegeta leaning on the doorframe, gazing at him with hooded eyes.

            “Done what to?” Goku asked, confused.

            “The first person that Furiza has broken. It didn’t matter how he did it; it was what he loved. To see someone, proud, and strong, reduced to a sniveling heap in front of him.”

            Goku gasped, as he thought he understood what Vegeta was talking about.

            “What- you too? He raped you too?” he whispered, not believing that the proud Prince in front of him could have ever been in the same position.

            “No, I said that he broke people. Yes, me included; but his methods were more- sophisticated.”

            A barely seen shiver ran through Vegeta’s frame.

            “He needed me to be a capable fighter, mentally and emotionally, that’s why I wasn’t touched. By him, anyway.”

            Goku shuddered and turned away at the bleak tone and expression on Vegeta’s face.

            “Win, Kakkarot. Don’t let his memory beat you.”

            Vegeta turned and walked away, with Goku staring at his back while he left.



            “Why are you and Dad going away?’ asked Goten, as he trailed his brother around, having been banished from the kitchen after making the floor explode.

            Gohan was checking the supplies for the fifth time. He knew how they tended to run through them, food and clothing, at a fast rate. Then he was checking the training area, and gravity simulator. He had no intention of letting his Dad sit and brood the whole time.

            “Because Dad needs to go someplace special to cry,” Gohan said, not sure how much of what had happened his little brother understood.

            “Does it have something to do with the bad man that hurt him?”

            He certainly got the gist of it, anyway, Gohan thought, and heaved a sigh.

            “Yeah, squirt. It does. It also has something to do with our sisters and brothers that Dad told us about.” I can’t believe I have more siblings. And they’re Furiza’s. Brr.

            Then again, they’re dead. So, I really don’t have more little brothers and sisters.

            Tears stung his eyes. Sure, Goten could be a pest, but he liked having his little brother look up to him, show him things, try to model his big brother. A vision of himself being followed around by two other little boys, and two girls, haunted him, begging him to teach them how to fly, having tea parties with his sisters, playing soccer with his brothers…

            Rage crackled in his mind as he though about all he wished he could do to Furiza- a sentiment that he could tell most everyone in the room shared.

            Rage felt better than grief.



            Bulma had taken the pod that Goku had used to get back from Yardrat with her when he had returned home. She had planned on using it as a rainy day activity, to disassemble and put it back together again, ferret out the information in its banks with the same kind of single-mindedness that Vegeta used when training.

            She was doing that now, so she could calculate the trajectory they would use on their trip back to Yardart, but she was tearing it apart like it was an onion that had offended her.

            The anger in the room, as she directed the rest of the Z-Senshi in getting the shuttle prepared was palpable. Pretty much the thought was ‘How dare ANYONE do that to our Goku!’

            She remembered walking in on Piccolo and Goku, and hearing what they were talking about. Her first reactions had been conflicting, to say the least. Disbelief and shock, at first, which was understandable. Then, she got angry with Son-kun.

            Her cheeks flushed with shame at the memory. He had done nothing for her to be mad at. Still, her first reaction was ‘Why did he let this happen to him?’ Was he that weak, after all?

            As soon as that flashed through her mind, she wanted to bash her head into a wall. Son was never ‘weak’. The fact that he had survived so long after that had testified to it. Then the rage of anyone whose loved one had been hurt filled her. Along with mourning for the little lives she would never know. Bulma did her best to be a good mother, although she knew she wasn’t the best. The loss of family, and to her, Son-kun was family, made her want to-

            Here was another long list of anatomically impossible but certainly painful things she wanted to do to Furiza. She could hear the others in the background muttering much the same thing.

            With a growl she went back to work after her musings. They all loved Goku, and while there was nothing else they could do, they would do this.



            Goku walked into the ship bay a little while later. He cringed as he walked the halls, afraid of how his friends would react after they had seen him so weak.

            When he entered, he was taken back by what he saw.

            They were all working like there was no tomorrow, getting things just right, and he could still smell the after affects of Chi-Chi’s cooking. His stomach growled.

            Suddenly, a pork bun was flying at him, and he caught it.

            “Here, Goku, but don’t spoil your dinner!” said Chi-Chi, and he turned to see his little dark haired wife.

            She smiled at him, sadly, and gave him a peck on the cheek before he could flinch.

            “Be safe, and be happy.”

            She turned and walked away, never faltering.

            Goku wondered why he thought she was saying goodbye.


            “How long until we get to Yardrat?” asked Piccolo, as he walked to the bridge of the ship. Bulma had firmly banished Goku from piloting, and had entrusted most of the technical parts to Gohan, with Piccolo learning enough to be his backup.

            “About three weeks,” Gohan told him, taking the controls. Goku reached out to touch one, but was slapped away by his son.

            “Bulma said for you not to touch, remember?”

            Goku looked hurt, but smiled faintly.

            He retreated to his room, and sat on the bed of is home for the next few weeks. His feelings were mixed, to say the least.

            “Son,” rumbled that deep voice, and he turned to see Piccolo in his doorway, even as they were taking off for space.

            “Yeah?” he asked, standing up, and automatically got his balance as the ship bucked beneath him. His heart seemed to decide it was trying to break orbit, as well, when he saw the green warrior.

            “Come train.”

            Piccolo had turned and left almost before the words left his mouth. Goku swallowed, then smiled faintly. He would look forward to it.


To be continued.