Pain
The paper crunched in Trunks’ grip as his hand
tightened spastically, his face whitening as his vision darkened, then swam
back into focus. Panic clawed at his throat as a sick feeling built in his
stomach.
"Oh my God, please...." Horrified, he
rushed out of the room and down the stairs, tripping on the last step in his haste
and falling to his knees. Scrambling back to his feet, he dashed outside and
thrust himself into the air, his breathing loud and terrified in his ears.
Father, what have you done?!
Trunks’ hands curled into fists, the blood
fleeing from his knuckles as he flew, pushing all of his energy into speed. The
tears that were spilling unnoticed from his eyes dried on his cheeks almost
before they had a chance to fall, and a weak, trembly feeling had invaded his
body.
"Oh God, please.... Please don’t let him do
this," he whispered.
He wanted to scream, or sob, or tear his hair
out, something to release the horrible fear that kept building in him.
Oh my God, what will I do if he’s dead?
Father, please...
A short, anguished sob was wrenched from his
throat as his mind replayed the words from his father’s letter, lingering
painfully over two in particular. Love, Vejiita.
Trunks wrapped his arms around his chest as he
continued to weep, the wind throwing his lavender hair into his eyes.
Oh Father, I’m so sorry...
Goku stepped out of the shower, dripping, and
winced a little at the movement of his body. He had been the victor in his
fight with Vejiita, true, but the Saiya-jin prince had certainly done his share
of damage.
He pulled his towel from the rack and slowly
dried himself off, then stood in front of the mirror, studying the darkening
bruises on his ribcage and face, as well as the many cuts and scratches. He
frowned, lightly running his fingers over the bruise on his ribs, remembering
how Vejiita had attacked him. The prince had wanted to make him angry. And he
had succeeded. Goku hadn’t wanted to fight him, but that had only served to
further enrage the prince, pushing him to goad Goku into attacking seriously.
Something about the way Vejiita had fought today
bothered him. There had been an air of desperation to the prince’s attacks that
left him uneasy. And then, towards the end, it had almost seemed like Vejiita
had wanted him to hurt him.
Shaking his head, Goku turned away from the
mirror and pulled on a pair of his loose-fitting orange pants, tying a blue
belt around his waist and then padding out of the bathroom, not bothering to
put on socks or a shirt. He walked into the kitchen to get something to drink
and found Gohan seated at his kitchen table, his brow furrowed as he tapped a
pencil against the paper in front of him.
"Gohan," he said, raising an eyebrow
as he continued on his way to the fridge, "What are you doing here?"
His son looked up at him and smiled. He
shrugged. "I just haven’t seen you and Goten for a while, and I thought
I’d stop in and say hi."
Goku nodded, pouring himself a glass of orange
juice. It wasn’t unusual for his son to let
himself in when he visited.
"How are Videl and Pan?" he asked,
returning to the table and sitting down across from Gohan.
"They’re good," his son replied,
another smile creeping across his lips, "Videl’s pregnant again."
Goku looked at him in surprise, then grinned.
"Really?" He laughed. "Good for you, congratulations."
Gohan nodded, looking pleased.
"Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl
yet?"
Gohan drummed his fingers on the table.
"I’m pretty sure it’s a boy, but it’s still too early to tell for
certain."
"And what’s Pan up to?" Goku
questioned, interested to know what his grand-daughter was doing. "Is she
still training?"
Gohan nodded, grimacing. "Like a madwoman.
She’s got her sights set on Trunks, you know, and she’s gotten it into her head
that the best way to make him notice her is to be at least as strong as he
is."
Goku laughed, leaning back in his chair. "She’ll
have to work hard to catch up with Trunks. She’s got a long way to go before
she’ll have a chance of becoming a Super Saiya-jin."
Gohan smiled, his brow furrowing slightly.
"I wonder if there’s ever been a female Super Saiya-jin? Maybe it’s not
even possible for Pan, she’s three quarters human, you know."
Goku nodded, absently spinning his glass on the
table. "But then, Trunks and Goten are half human, and they became Super
Saiya-jins even before they became teenagers. And look at you," Goku
grinned at his son, "You’re half human and you’re the most powerful
warrior alive."
Gohan grunted. "Not me. In terms of sheer
ki, maybe, but I don’t have the desire to fight like you do, or even like Goten
and Trunks. Without that kind of drive I’ll never be the greatest warrior. It’s
just not important to me."
Gohan’s eyes ran down his father’s face and
chest, observing the bruising and scratches. "I’d come here to see if you
wanted to spar, though, since I haven’t done it for a while. I’d just like to
see how I hold up against you now. But it looks like you’ve already had a
pretty rough session today."
Goku grimaced in agreement, tipping his head
back to finish off the last of his juice.
His son grinned slightly. "Vejiita, I’m
guessing?"
Goku nodded, frowning a little as his thoughts
returned to the Saiya-jin prince. He was worried about him. "He’s made it
to Super Saiya-jin level three," he commented absently.
Gohan looked at him in surprise. "Oh
really? What-"
His words were suddenly cut off as the door
slammed open and Trunks burst into the house, his lavender hair hanging in wild
tangles around his face and his blue eyes wide and panicked.
Goku and Gohan both got to their feet, and Goku
felt apprehension tightening his chest as he took several steps toward
Vejiita’s son. "Trunks, what’s wrong?"
The boy moved forward unsteadily, raising hands
that were visibly shaking to either side of his head as if trying to hold
himself together. "M-m-my f-fa... my- V-Vejiita, he-he’s-"
Goku felt himself tense involuntarily, and he
reached out, gripping Trunks’ shoulders and shaking him gently. "Trunks!
Calm down and tell us what’s happened!"
Wordlessly, Trunks extended his hand, and Goku
noticed the crumpled paper he had been clutching in a death-grip.
Carefully extracting it from the boy’s fingers,
Goku smoothed it out and began to read, his eyes racing over the paper. It
seemed as though the blood in his veins suddenly turned to ice as terror
gripped his heart.
He looked at Trunks, wide-eyed.
"Fuck!" he exploded suddenly, and both
Gohan and Trunks stared at him. Goku had never used that word before in his
life. Then Trunks sagged against the wall, closing his eyes.
"It’s my fault," he whispered, his
voice wracked with pain.
"What the hell’s going on?!" Gohan
broke in, raising his voice.
Goku shoved the letter at him in response,
slapping the paper against his son’s chest.
"It’s not your fault, Trunks," he said
sharply, "God dammit, I should have seen this, I knew something was wrong!"
His face hardening in determination, he stepped
around Trunks, heading for the door. "I’m going to find him."
"You can’t," Trunks whispered.
"He’s shielding his ki. Or he’s already dead. I stretched my senses as far
as I could go coming over here. I can’t find him!"
"He’s not dead," Goku denied, refusing
to believe it, "And I can find him. Vejiita and I have always had a bond
as Saiya-jins, and after we became Vegetto it only strengthened. Don’t come
with me!" he said sharply as Trunks and Gohan stepped toward him.
"The last thing we want is to push him over the edge. I need to talk to
him one on one."
Trunks crumpled to the floor, leaning brokenly
against the wall. "Find him, Goku, stop him, please...."
"I will," Goku replied, turning and
sprinting out the door. He blasted into the sky as soon as his feet hit the
grass outside, the air around him rippling with aftershocks at the force of his
passage. He immediately stretched out with his senses, trying with all of his
might to locate the familiar ki that belonged to Vejiita. He could feel
nothing, distinguish nothing from amidst the chaotic rush of spirits that
filled the world. Cursing, he wildly tried to extend himself further, only to
have his mind whirl into vertigo. He veered drunkenly in his course, hastily
retreating back into his own mind and waiting for the feeling to pass.
Closing his eyes, he forced himself to calm, to
push down the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. He could only do
this if his mind was clear. When he felt a kind of lull inside of him, a brief
space of quiet peace, he slowly extended his senses once again, stretching,
pushing himself to his very limits. His face twisted in pained concentration as
the ki of the whole world flooded his senses, all the humans going about their
daily lives. It was overwhelming, stunning, and it threatened to crush him with
its complexity. No! He had to sort through it, ignore it, overcome it and find
him.
Sweat slicked his forehead as he flew, his
breathing becoming labored as he struggled to find the ki he sought.
Vejiita, you can’t be dead. You cannot have
done this. I will not let you take your own life!
What could the other Saiya-jin be thinking? Goku
wondered despairingly. He had so much to live for. Didn’t he understand what
this would do to Trunks?
Don’t you understand, his thoughts continued, almost of their own violition, Don’t
you understand.... what this will do to me?
Goku swallowed, feeling tears begin to burn his
eyes. He cared so much. Didn’t Vejiita see that? Maybe he cared too much. It
was so easy for Vejiita to hurt him. A careless word, a derogatory remark, an
impulsive gesture. He would pretend they didn’t affect him, but inside they
tore him apart. They hurt because he cared. He cared about Vejiita and he cared
what Vejiita thought of him. Because, he admitted painfully, he wanted Vejiita
to care about him too.
Over the years, he had gradually grown closer to
the Saiya-jin prince, until he couldn’t imagine life without him. When Chi Chi
had died, it had somehow been Vejiita who had comforted him the most, and Goku
had seen in Vejiita a mirroring need for understanding. Whatever anyone else
may have thought, Goku knew that Vejiita had cared about Bulma, and that her
death had shaken him. He did not know the depth of the prince’s feelings, but
there was something there, and they were tied together by their grief. A
tenuous bond had formed then, that of friends and companions, at least on
Goku’s part. He had felt drawn to Vejiita, starting to enjoy the time they
spent together more and more. Even though it hurt. It hurt when Vejiita
belittled and mocked him. Somehow, despite his small stature, the prince had
managed to look down his nose at him, and despite the fact that Goku could
defeat him in combat, something about the forceful Saiya-jin was almost
intimidating to him. But as they spent more time together, Goku began to feel
that Vejiita might have accepted him as a friend, or at least a comrade, if
nothing else. And, he realized, ever so quietly, Vejiita had replaced Chi Chi in
his heart.
As he finally came face to face with the truth,
Goku gasped, his eyes widening in his desperate flight. Vejiita... How had this
happened? How could...? He... He was...
Now he closed his eyes and forced himself to let
the words come. He was in love with Vejiita.
The words brought with them a rush of relief and
fear and a thousand complications, but he had no time to think about it.
Because, at precisely that moment, off to the northeast, as the sky deepened
into twilight, his senses fixed on a familiar ki.
Vejiita stood near the edge of a rocky dropoff,
tall, quiet trees rising high above him as he gazed at the sky. The sun was
almost below the horizon. It was almost time to end this mockery called life.
He didn’t know why he had felt compelled to wait
for the night, but it did not seem right that he should die in the sunlight. He
was, after all, a creature of darkness, he thought with a sarcastic smirk. The
smile immediately faded, though, and he was left to wonder at the ruinous turns
his life had taken. How had it happened that he, who was meant to be the king
of an entire world, was left homeless, friendless, a refugee on an alien planet
and allowed to remain only at the sufferance of one of his own subjects?
Allowed to remain only as long as Kakarrot saw fit.
Bitter tears built in his eyes, and he cursed
himself for his weakness. Cursed himself for allowing Kakarrot to make him
weep. He had tried so hard to match the other Saiya-jin, to better him,
but he could not, because...
He gritted his teeth, the admission crushing
him.
Because Kakarrot was better. He was stronger. He
always would be.
Vejiita closed his eyes against the pain,
against the knowledge that he would never do what he was meant to do, never be
what he was meant to be. He had wanted to show the universe that he was Vejiita
no Ouji, the strongest Saiya-jin who had ever lived. That he could not be
defeated. But he wasn’t, and he could be.
There was nothing left for him to live for.
His people were gone, his planet destroyed. His
son was an adult who was better off without him. His ‘friends’ would surely be
glad to see him go. They had never really considered him one of them anyway.
Maybe he hadn’t either.
He looked blankly toward the sinking sun.
Kakarrot would be the last of the Saiya-jins. That stupid fool that he hated so
much.
He closed his eyes again. I need him so much.
The contradiction was painful. Hate and need
intertwined so closely. He hated Kakarrot for his strength, for his goodness.
He hated him because he was stronger, and because, being stronger, he allowed
Vejiita to live. But he needed him for the same reasons. And he hated the fact
that he needed him. He didn’t want to need him. But he did.
"God damn you to hell, Kakarrot," he
whispered painfully, bowing his head. "I hate you for doing this to
me."
He couldn’t go on living like this. Needing
someone who had beaten him, crushed him into the dirt so many times he no
longer had the will to rise. And Kakarrot didn’t even know. He had no idea how
he had hurt him.
But I hurt you worse, didn’t I, Kakarrot? he thought, not opening his eyes. I wanted to hurt
you. And more, I wanted to break you, as I was broken, so that I wouldn’t be
the only one. And I did hurt you. I succeeded and caused you pain. But once I did,
I was sorry. I didn’t want to break you anymore. Instead, without realizing it,
I let you break me. You made me look at myself, and I hate you for it. It
hurts. You’ve made me care. Caring, it hurts so much worse than anything else.
Especially when no one cares back.
Vejiita didn’t even realize that his tears were
dripping onto the grass at his feet.
But I have made this bed for myself. There is
no one else to blame. Somehow I wish that I could have gone another way. But it
doesn’t matter anymore.
He sighed as the sun slipped completely beneath
the horizon.
I’m tired of caring.
The wind whipped through Goku’s black hair and
made his eyes water as he threw himself to the northeast, using everything he
had to get there quickly. He kept his senses locked in desperate hope on that
small, shielded ki, hardly noticing when the land ended and he began flying
over the ocean. He cursed as the sun fell below the horizon, straining for more
energy to put into his speed. Then he was coming up on an island completely
covered in forest and entirely undeveloped. Vejiita’s ki was radiating from
that point.
Taking a deep, unsteady breath, he slowed,
focusing on keeping his ki hidden. He didn’t want to alarm Vejiita before he
had to, startling him into doing something stupid. Swooping down low, he flew
just above the treetops until he was almost exactly above the spot where he
felt Vejiita’s ki. Quietly, he slipped through the trees, descending until he
alighted softly on the ground. He raised his head, dark eyes turning a little
to his left.
Vejiita stood with his back to him.
Goku felt his heart tighten in relief and fear.
He swept his gaze over the prince’s form, clad entirely in black but for the
white of his gloves and boots. At that moment his mind informed him, absurdly,
that he was only wearing his orange gi pants, without either a shirt or shoes.
Frowning, he brushed the thought aside, then froze as a glimmer of light from
the rising moon reflected off something in Vejiita’s hand. Taking a silent step
forward, he looked closely, his throat tightening in apprehension.
In Vejiita’s gloved hand gleamed a long,
wickedly curved knife, glinting coldly. It’s blade was wide, with sharp,
serrated edges on both sides. There were several artistic, strategically placed
gaps in the metal, giving the weapon the affect of being a frozen flame. The
handle, from what he could see of it, was made of some type of bone, worn
smooth and dyed to a perfect ebony finish. The immediate impression was that of
deadly beauty.
"I thought it was suitably ironic,"
Vejiita’s voice came out of the night, and Goku nearly shook his head at
himself for ever believing Vejiita didn’t know he was there.
After a moment the prince turned toward him, his
black eyes unreadable in the darkness. He flipped the knife in his hand into
the air, letting it spin half-way before catching it again, this time gripping
the blade. He held it up for Goku to look at.
"This knife," he said, his voice so
soft it was almost frightening, "has belonged to the royal family of Vejiitasai
for generations." He flipped it around again, holding the blade forward
into a stray beam of moonlight so Goku could see it better. "It is used to
complete a prince’s accession to the throne. This knife makes kings.... All it
takes is a simple cut, right here." Raising the knife, he lightly tapped
the blade against the soft skin at the hollow of his throat. Goku fought to
suppress a wince. "Once the new king is crowned, and bears an heir, the
knife passes out of his hands, first to a caretaker for safekeeping, and then,
once he is old enough, to the prince, who will hold it until the time of his
own coronation. For a commoner to touch it is punishable by death."
Vejiita gazed blankly at the knife in his hand, slowly turning it over in his
palm. After several long moments he spoke again, and his voice was a whisper.
"There will be no more kings of Vejiitasai."
Goku swallowed, wondering at the pain Vejiita
must be feeling. He himself had no memory of their world, there was nothing for
him to miss or mourn for. But Vejiita.... He was meant to be King. And now he
really was the last true Saiya-jin. Certainly Goku’s blood was entirely
Saiya-jin, but his heart and mind were human, he knew nothing of his true
heritage other than what he had learned from Vejiita.
Vejiita was the last of his kind. He was alone
in the universe.
Goku’s throat ached so badly he longed for the
release of tears, but Vejiita would only scorn him for it. Right now he needed
to listen.
The prince once more turned the knife in his
palm. "And so I thought it was fitting that this knife, which has made all
the kings of the past, should unmake this one." He once more touched the
knife to the hollow of his throat, then slowly trailed the tip down, over his
chest, and a little to the left, so it rested against the depression marking
one of the spaces between his ribs, directly over his heart.
Goku stepped forward, his hand rising in a
warding gesture as his eyes widened in horror.
"I might have wished for a nobler
end," Vejiita continued, his voice inflectionless, "a warrior’s
death, but this path is really most appropriate for me. A pathetic weakling, a
failure my whole life, I deserve no better than a coward’s death."
Goku moved toward him again, his expression
pleading. "No, Vejiita, don’t... You’re not a coward. You are the bravest
person I know, one of the greatest warriors in the universe. Don’t do
this..."
Vejiita looked at him for long moments, not
moving, the knife still pressed to his breast. Then he said quietly, his voice
strained. "Go away, Kakarrot. Don’t trouble yourself to try and
save me. Your conscience will be clear, you can
go home free of guilt. This is entirely my own choice, you play no part in
it."
Goku’s teeth clenched together. "Do you
think that’s why I came, here, you idiot? Because I didn’t want your death on
my conscience?! The thought never even crossed my mind. I didn’t come to stop
you so I could feel good about myself, Vejiita!"
Vejiita didn’t respond for a moment. Then he
shrugged. "There is nothing for me to live for. The more I think about it,
I realize there never has been. My life has been pointless, a desperate search
for something that was never real to begin with. I’m done chasing dreams,
Kakarrot. And..." His voice suddenly changed timber as he switched to the
guttural language of Saiyago. "Tash et kundah nandak farshan ken nand
virsh rah’shalt kanzan. ‘It is better to be dead than to live without
honor.’"
Goku stepped toward him again, but didn’t dare
press him too far for fear of what he might do. "Without honor?!
What does your honor have to do with any of this?! That’s a load of shit and
you know it! I’m not saying that honor means nothing to you, but I can’t
believe that honor alone would bring you to this. And your honor has never been
in question, at least in my sight. That’s not the real reason behind
this."
For a moment the blank mask Vejiita was wearing
flickered, revealing dark eyes immersed in pain, and, trembling behind that,
something that almost seemed to be fear.
"Go away, Kakarrot," he whispered
again, his voice rasping slightly.
Goku chose that moment to act, stepping forward
quickly and extending his hand to take the knife. But, even in his distraction,
Vejiita could not be taken by surprise, and faster than thought the knife was
pressed to Goku’s throat.
Goku blinked, surprised at how the situation had
changed. He looked down into Vejiita’s black eyes, which were again carefully
blank, gazing back at him coldly.
"Do not get in my way, Kakarrot. Leave me
alone and let me finish this. Go back to your family and forget about me."
"And what about Trunks?" Goku
whispered, fighting the urge to pull Vejiita into his arms.
"What?" Vejiita asked.
"What will he do? What do you think it will
do to him when he finds out you’ve killed yourself?"
Vejiita swallowed. "The boy..." He
swallowed again. "The boy hates me, Kakarrot. He has every right to. He
will probably be relieved that I am gone."
Goku frowned at him. "Why would you think
that Trunks hates you?"
Vejiita’s jaw tightened. "I as much as
abandoned him in his childhood, Kakarrot, whatever you might say about me
taking care of him. I was not the kind of father he needed. I hurt him by
neglect."
"Vejiita, Trunks was angry, he said things
he didn’t mean. And I know you made mistakes. But," he softened his voice,
"you’re his father. He loves you, Vejiita, it isn’t too late."
"Be quiet!" Vejiita hissed, and Goku
felt the pressure of the knife against his neck increase just slightly.
"The boy doesn’t care about me, no one does. Now get out of here and let me
do this."
Goku didn’t move. "You’ll have to kill me
first," he whispered.
Vejiita’s dark eyes widened very slightly before
he covered the reaction. For long moments the two Saiya-jins stared at each
other, neither blinking. Then Vejiita growled and pressed the knife inward.
Goku gasped slightly as he felt the point of the
blade slice into his neck, making a very shallow cut against the softness of
his throat, but he refused to move back from the pain, standing very still. He
did not look away from Vejiita. Warm wetness slid slowly down his neck as blood
leaked out of the wound, pooling slightly in the hollow of his throat. He
winced as the knife point shivered jerkily against his neck, and a moment later
realized that Vejiita was trembling.
"Just kill me, Vejiita," he whispered.
"You’ve struggled for this for so long. If you really want to kill
yourself, you have to kill me first."
The blood slid from his throat, trailing warmly
down his chest, leaving a wet path of crimson. Vejiita bowed his head for a moment,
though he didn’t move the knife.
"God damn you, Kakarrot!" he
half-sobbed, his voice harsh with tears.
"Don’t do this, Vejiita," Goku said
quietly, "There’s another way. Don’t end it like this."
Vejiita’s head lifted and he glared at Goku, his
angry eyes shining with tears. "I’ll kill you, you fool!" he hissed,
his hand tightening on the knife.
Goku carefully extended his hands to the side in
a defenseless gesture. "If that’s what you have to do, then do it,"
he whispered.
For long moments there was silence, Vejiita
holding the knife to Goku’s neck with shaking hands. Then, very slowly, Goku
brought his hands forward, resting his palms against Vejiita’s forearms.
Vejiita didn’t move. Gradually, Goku’s hands slid upward until he was gently
grasping Vejiita’s wrists. Holding him firmly, he drew the prince’s hands down,
away from his throat, meeting no resistance.
Vejiita stood with his head down, his arms
hanging limply by his sides, the knife grasped loosely in his fingers. Carefully,
Goku extracted the weapon from his grip, closing his eyes briefly in relief and
thanking God.
For long minutes Vejiita was still and silent,
not moving from his position or looking away from the ground. Then his hand
came up to cover his eyes, the other supporting his elbow, and an odd noise
came from him that Goku recognized as a painfully stifled sob.
He couldn’t stop himself. Vejiita’s agony hurt
too much and, reaching out, he pulled the smaller man into his arms, holding
him against his chest, one hand cradling Vejiita’s nape, the other wrapped
around his back. The prince was trembling and he held him tighter, closing his
eyes as he unconsciously began to sway back and forth, as though he were
rocking a small child. Vejiita sobbed in his arms, crumpled limply against his
chest.
"I can’t," he gasped, his words barely
intelligible through his tears, "I can’t... can’t do this
anymore...."
"Yes, you can," he murmered back,
pressing his cheek to his prince’s hair. "You have so much to live for,
Vejiita. Don’t give up."
Vejiita shook his head and struggled briefly
before collapsing again. "I can’t stand... to look at myself," he
wept, his tears hot and moist against Goku’s skin. "God!" he screamed
suddenly, his head tipping backward as he howled at the night sky, "How
could this have happened to me?! How could I have let it happen?! How could he
have let it happen?!"
He slammed his fist against Goku’s chest, and
Goku grimaced slightly but said nothing.
"Why are you holding me, Kakarrot!" he
yelled in his face, pushing against him. "Does it amuse you to see me like
this?! I am not weak!" he roared, fighting Goku’s grip.
"I know you’re not weak, Vejiita!"
Goku said, raising his voice to get through to the other Saiya-jin.
"God, if only I’d killed you that day we
first fought!" Vejiita cried. "I’d still be as
miserable and worthless as I am now, but at
least I wouldn’t know it! I wouldn’t see it! I wouldn’t have known what I
was missing!"
Suddenly all fight went out of him and he sagged
in Goku’s arms, not even holding himself up. Goku tightened his grip to keep
Vejiita from dropping to the ground, pressing the other Saiya-jin’s body
against him. "Let me die, Kakarrot," Vejiita whispered, staring dully
at nothing. "I’m so tired of everything. It isn’t enough just to train
every day, to try to be the strongest when I know I never will be. How can I go
on living everyday with nothing to look forward to?" His voice was
becoming strained. "I never thought.... I somehow convinced myself that I
liked who I was, but it was only that I was too weak to face the truth. I’m
ruined, and I’ve destroyed myself. I wanted to be able to stand on my own, to
be the strongest, so what Frieza did to me.... When he... It was so many....
times..."
He suddenly twisted in Goku’s arms, freeing
himself from his hold only to drop to his knees, wrapping his arms around his
stomach and vomiting into the bushes. Breathing shallowly in an attempt to stay
his own grief, Goku crouched beside him, rubbing his back in comfort once more
as Vejiita’s body heaved sickeningly. Several moments later, the prince sat
back, twisting away from the vomit and wiping his mouth with a trembling arm.
Goku sat beside him, still rubbing his back gently.
Vejiita’s head dropped to rest in his hands.
"How can you touch me, Kakarrot?" he whispered. "How can you
stand to look at me? You don’t know... ...how dirty... The perversion inside
me... There’s... so much darkness..."
"Vejiita," Goku said firmly, "you
are not dirty. What happened to you hasn’t stained you in any way. How could
you be at fault? You were nine years old. It was a crime, Vejiita, you were
raped." Vejiita flinched, his body tensing. Goku gently pulled him around
so that they faced each other. "What you are is a strong, proud man, a
warrior who I am glad to know. To come as far as you have since I met you...
How can you think you have failed? Only look at your son, if nothing else can
convince you. You haven’t failed him yet, Vejiita. The only way you could fail
him would be to give up."
As Goku looked at the small man beside him, a
quiet respect for all he had done welled up in his heart. For him to have
continued with his life, to have turned himself around so completely in the
last twenty years.... Vejiita was truly worthy of his royal title. But somehow,
Vejiita had lost sight of who he was. All those years he had thrust it in
Goku’s face, that he was Prince Vejiita, the greatest of all Saiya-jins, but it
had become simply a rote saying that held no meaning for him anymore. Merely a
phrase he clung to because he had nothing else. How could Goku show him he was
still worthy of his people?
He gazed at the man sitting beside him, the
silvery light of the near-full moon piercing through the branches, casting
Vejiita’s face in light and shadow. So like Vejiita himself.
I love him so much, he thought, closing his eyes for a moment. I don’t
know how it happened, but his arrogance, his mockery, the vulnerability
underneath, all of it... He fits me somehow, like no one else ever has. Vejiita
is the last person I would have expected to find my soul’s mate in. But still
he.. he fits me. But... do I fit him? He shook his head. It didn’t matter
right now. He could think about that later.
Rising to his feet, he looked down and extended
his hand to Vejiita. After looking at him a moment, Vejiita wearily took his
hand and allowed Goku to pull him to his feet. When Vejiita stood beside him,
Goku reached out and wrapped his left arm around the Saiya-jin’s shoulders,
pulling him toward him until they were pressed together.
Vejiita gasped slightly, his mouth opening as
though he would speak, but Goku silenced him, and, for once, he obeyed. Keeping
his elbow pressed into Vejiita’s back, Goku reached up with his left hand and
threaded his fingers through Vejiita’s hair, gripping the black spikes firmly.
Vejiita’s eyes widened uncertainly as Goku pulled his head back, and his hands
came up to grip Goku’s upper arms for balance.
He was standing with his hips and stomach
pressed against Goku’s body, Goku’s hand in his hair forcing him to bend
backwards so his throat was bared, but he could still meet Goku’s eyes.
"Kakarrot...."
"Shh..."
Goku brought up his other hand, which still held
the knife he had taken from Vejiita. Carefully, he brought the blade forward
and pressed the tip into the hollow of Vejiita’s throat, twisting his wrist
quickly before pulling the blade back again. Blood welled up in the tiny wound,
gathering in that depression at the base of his throat, and Vejiita gasped as
he began to realize what Goku was doing.
Goku looked down at Vejiita, at the blood on his
throat and the uncertainty in his eyes, and instinctively bent forward, his
eyes closing as he touched his lips to Vejiita’s neck. Unable to understand why
he was doing it, he opened his mouth and gently ran his tongue over the wound
he had made in Vejiita’s throat, the coppery taste of blood flooding his
senses. He felt the vibrations of Vejiita’s startled moan against his lips
before he slowly pulled back, releasing Vejiita’s hair.
The Saiya-jin slowly straightened, stunned eyes
coming to rest on Goku’s face. Reaching out, Goku took Vejiita’s hands and
knelt in the cool grass, laying the knife at his feet and looking up at him.
"My prince," he whispered, his voice
strangely tight. "You are Vejiita no Ou."
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