Written by Nevyn Slash at [email protected]


Chapter 1 Part B


Bulma finished wrapping the last gift and decided that her fingers had had a good enough break. She went back over to the helium and started on the balloons again.




Bulma had to admit that if Chichi was right, and if Goku had summoned the dragon for a lawyer, then it wasn’t fair. But then she remembered the happy look on Gohan’s face when he was allowed to leave his mom, and she pushed the fairness issue away.


“Chichi, I’ll go ahead and check the radar later, okay? In the meantime, have you noticed anything strange about Vegeta?”


Chichi glared out the window again and finally answered the question that had been asked of her a while ago, “Yes, I have. He seems solemn and withdrawn. He rarely threatens anyone anymore. His mood swings are drastic, ranging from calm to raving mad in an instant. He needs to get a shirt that says, ‘I go from calm to bitch in .2 seconds.’ Or something like that.”


Bulma nodded. She had noticed the same things. “Thanks Chichi, and I am sorry about your loss. Are you going to remarry?”

“Probably. I don’t know. What if I remarry and I have another son and I am forced to give him up too?”
“Chichi, I’m sorry, really, but there’s someone out there for you. All you have to do if find him.”

“Yeah.” Chichi forced a small smile and stood, “Well, Bulma it was great having you over. Do come by more often.”

“I’ll try and thank you for the info.”




Bulma stopped what she was doing and counted the balloons briefly before resuming. 'When I returned home, I did indeed check the radar and found that the balls weren’t on it. Goku did use the balls to get a lawyer and he was very good to…'




“After hearing the case from both sides, I have come to my decision. The boy, Gohan, shall be put under the custody of Piccolo.” The judge took a moment to look at the green alien standing beside the boy. Chichi had tried to prevent the decision, saying that Gohan was in love with Piccolo and that it would be unsafe. The judge had taken that to mean that Gohan felt safe with the man and so, he had made the decision as soon as she stated that fact.


When the judge said this, Gohan's face lit up like a bulb, making the judge smile. ‘I made the right choice. Of course Piccolo isn’t showing anything,’ the judge observed, looking over at him, ‘I hope that he is okay with this and glad also.’

“Mr. Turner shall have custody of any children that Chichi might bare in the next nine months if she has conceived one.”

“I don’t think that you have to issue that. I’m haven’t,” Chichi said, upset with how the proceedings were going.

“Well, I have to issue it to make sure. Now, Chichi keeps the house and all of her belongings. Goku, you need to go and make or buy a house that is somewhere at least fifty kilometers from her. You can pick up your belongings, but you are to never go near Chichi or her house again. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

The judge nodded and looked back at the papers on his desk. “Hmm… I think that that just about covers it. I now proclaim that you two are officially divorced. So let it be written, so let it be done.”

He then raised the mallet and was about to strike it, when Chichi spoke desperately, “Wait! What about seeing rights!?”

“Oh yes. Almost forgot about that. Let’s see… Chichi is not allowed to see Gohan unless he wants her to. Chichi, you are to stay away from Gohan. Any attempted contact can result in a fine or a small sentence in jail. That goes for the kid that may or may not be born in the near future. After the kid is given to Mr. Turner of course. Case dismissed.” As soon as he pounded the mallet on the little block of wood, he turned and made his way out the side door to his office.


Chichi slumped in her chair, defeated, as soon as the judge left, “Why? Why?”

Tien sighed and spoke to her softly, “I’m sorry Chichi. I did the best that I could.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Tien.”

Goku stood and thanked Mr. Turner, who told him that if he was ever in a need of his services again, then just to call. Goku nodded and accepted his card, shook Turner’s hand and then approached Gohan. “Are you happy son?”

“Yes dad. Thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll see you later.”

He then went over to Vegeta, passing all his friends, who were still looking at him and Chichi in disbelief. They had all thought that he and Chichi were getting along happily. When they heard of the trail, they had all come, but they still hadn’t gotten over it.


“Kakarott, you finally decided to leave that hellcat?”

“Hello Vegeta. And yes. I should’ve listened to you a year ago when you told me to leave. Sorry for waiting so long to finally get some sense.”

Vegeta gave him a soft smirk, “No problem Kakarott. I assume that you will listen to what I say from now on?”
Goku gave him a wink and a little grin, “I’ll try Vegeta. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful. Shall we go now?”

“Of course. After you, my prince.”

Vegeta’s eyes flashed at that, “Are you going to call me that from now on?”
“Now don’t get an ego, Vegeta. I don’t want you getting used to it.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go.”


Together, they left everyone behind and walked out the door and over to Vegeta’s car that Vegeta had driven there. Goku had asked Vegeta about eight months ago why he drove whenever he left to go anywhere instead of just flying, which in Goku’s opinion was easier, and Vegeta had told him that it was none of his business. With a last wave, Goku left him in the parking lot and flew off to a cave that he found discovered one day while training and would be staying at for a while.


Vegeta looked after him and finally shook his head and climbed in, muttering a soft “Baka,” before he drove on back to the Capsule Corp. building.




‘That had been a gruesome trail. Tien had never stood a chance. Goku’s lawyer was too good. I thought at the time that Chichi might have had some chance, but no. And now no one had heard from Gohan, after the Cell games, in a little over eight months. Not to mention the fact that as soon as young Goten is a year old, Chichi is going to have to hand him over to Mr. Turner. That’s very unfair. Mr. Turner isn’t even a friend. He’s only a friend of Goku and Goku’s dead.’


Bulma finished the last of the balloons and looked around the room. It was turning out nicely now. There were streamers of all colors on the ceiling and the walls, and lots of balloons tied to chairs as well as floating around. The party was in about three hours and almost everything was ready.

Just then there was a knock on the door. When Bulma answered it, she saw three men in white chef uniforms with the red words "Bert’s Catering Company" on their left breast pockets.

“Ms. Briefs?”
“Yes, that’s me. Did you bring all the stuff?”
The man in the middle spoke again, “Yes. It is all in the truck. Where do you want us to put it?”

“I’ll show you. Come with me.”




Bulma smiled as she watched everyone as they ate and talked, enjoying the calm atmosphere. ‘Well, almost quiet,’ she thought as a group over at the card table began to complain and shout at each other. They were playing Super Famicom, and it seemed that Vegeta had won again.


“That’s not fair!” protested Krillen, “Vegeta shouldn’t play anymore. Because he’s winning, he’s not getting drunk like the rest of us!”

Bulma smiled, she had heard them set the rules up for winning at the start of the game. They said that the losers had to drink a glass of wine, and the winner was to receive 50 dollars from each loser. Everyone had agreed and the game had started.

“How many games does that make? Nine?” asked Yamcha in a very woozy voice.

“No, I think it’s eleven,” stated Yajarobi, doing just as bad.


Then they all started arguing and Vegeta winced, for the arguing sounded ten times louder than it was to his extra over-sensitive ears. After a minute, he raised his fist to fire a ki blast, but then suddenly remembered that he couldn’t. ‘Damned baka!’ he thought, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.


It didn’t matter though, as soon as his raised a fist, all the people at the table grew silent, for they didn’t know that Vegeta was harmless in his present state.


Mr. Turner, who was also playing the game and had come to the party, wondered what could make them all quiet like that. Mr. Turner had come once he had been invited, to take his first look at the boy, who, in about a year, he would be in charge of. He had also come to make sure that Chichi knew that she had to give him up. She did, for as soon as he started to talk to her, she had started to silently cry and had stormed off.


Vegeta looked surprised that he had gotten everyone’s attention, but quickly pushed it aside. “Will you all shut up? You are all making my ears hurt with your loud screaming. It was my thirty-second win. You all lost count a long time ago. Now, if you don’t mind, I am leaving.” With that, he scooped up all his winnings, and scrunched up his face at the unpleasant smell of the alcohol - having decided to retire to his room.


Everyone watched as Vegeta went to the cradle holding the baby and peered in, his expression almost wistful. As soon as he was gone, the game went on as if it had never been disturbed.




Over the next few months, Chichi brought Goten over all the time, and seeing the baby everyday had not been good for Vegeta. Vegeta stopped eating for a bit, and he stopped training too, as the depression, anger, hurt, frustration, and emptiness that he had been holding at bay for nearly a year, finally caught up with him.


He knew that not eating was very bad, and not just for him, but he couldn’t force himself to eat. Then one night, after a week of this treatment, he finally decided to taste some sake and see what the big deal was about. It was then that he found out he couldn’t hold his liquor. He woke up the next day and had had a sever hangover and he couldn’t remember anything.


When he went downstairs, he asked Bulma, “What happened last night?”

She looked up at him and snickered, “You have a good singing voice, Vegeta. You should use it more often.”

Vegeta paled and demanded, “What are you talking about?”

Bulma smiled wickedly, “I got it all on tape.”

Vegeta frowned, “I will not be tricked into…”

“Oh, no one's trying to trick you, Vegeta.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tape recorder. “You started to sing after four ounces of sake. Here listen.” She pressed the button and immediately a nice clear baritone filled the room. It was clearly Vegeta’s voice:


‘My name is Davy Jones when I sail upon the sea,

I’ve chorused with the Sirens as they sang their songs to me.

I’ve supped on Circe’s island, thought she thought I was a boar,

And she’s the only girl I hope to never see once more.’


“It was here that you paused for a moment and drank two ounces of the remaining sake.”


‘Gypsy Davy I am called by when a lady follows me,

Black Jack Davy, Wraggle Taggle, as together we both flee.

Though she leaves me for a husband when she tires of the game,

Still she blushes and looks wistful when she hears folks call my name.’


“Now, this is where you drank the last two ounces of your sake, and then you crashed to the ground.”

There was a sound of a crash and then Bulma pushed the stop button. During the song, Vegeta had gone and sat down weakly on a chair.


Bulma looked over at him with a gleam in her eyes and said, “I’ll keep this, and the fact that you can get drunk and pass out after eight ounces of sake, secret from the others if you promise to play a flute and sing for me every Friday.”


Vegeta looked at her shocked, but that quickly faded as rage replaced his features as he leapt up out of his chair. “You’re going to blackmail me?” he asked, his eyes flashing.

Bulma grinned, “Blackmail? Me? I would not call it quite so crudely as to say blackmail. I prefer to think of it as, say, keeping a secret. I am very careful with my secrets.”


Vegeta was beyond mad now and he subconsciously tightened a fist. Bulma, seeing this, spoke up, “Now, now Vegeta, there’s no need for violence. You and I both know that in the weakened state you're in, I’ll probably have a better chance of winning because you’ll never hit me. Sure, you can still fight, and you are stronger, but your pride would never allow such a thing.”

Vegeta growled, “I refu…”

“Don’t even say it Vegeta. All I have to do is play this for everyone and you will be teased forever.”

Vegeta glared and finally spat out, “Fine, I’ll sing for you. But that’s all.”

“Ah, ah Vegeta. You also have to play the flute.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Yes you do.”

“What makes you think that?”

Bulma smirked, “Because, when we went to the music store that one time, you picked up a flute and held it as if you knew exactly what you were doing. Then you brought it to your lips. As soon as you noticed me watching you promptly put it down.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything. I could’ve seen others doing it and picked it up.”

Bulma looked and him closely and said, “If you do not play, then I will tell everyone your little secret.”

Vegeta frowned at her, “What do you mean?”


She looked solemn, “I’ll tell everyone the reason why you are so moody, why you had morning sickness for a full month, and why you are extra sensitive to noise. Or at least more so than usual with your advanced hearing. I will also tell everyone about what happened a year ago, and there will be nothing you will be able to do to stop me.”

Vegeta paled at her comments, and then he lowered his head in defeat. ‘How did she ever piece it all together? And how did she ever find out about what happened a year ago.’ “Very well, Bulma, I will sing and play the flute.” He looked back up at her, knowing full well that his pride was at stake if he didn’t do as she asked. “Can you give me a card so that I can go and get a flute?”


Bulma smiled so sweetly it could’ve rotted Vegeta’s teeth, "I got the flute the next day. I decided that I wanted to get it and give it to you as a gift someday, but the opportunity never came up. Follow me and I will get it for you. I think that you need to have time to practice before Friday so that you can play something good for me. Oh, and that reminds me, I got you a music book. I hope that you can read music, cause if you can’t, then it’ll be very hard for you to play the songs.”


Vegeta vowed that he would never forgive her as he followed her to her room and accepted the music book, stand, and flute with a glare before stomping off to his room.


That night, after a lot of practice, he didn’t eat once more and finally fell asleep around midnight, wishing for the familiar warmth beside him that had been absent for far to long. Unlike most nights, he had a dream that night. A dream that made him eat again the next day. Although it was only broth, it was a start.


He dreamed that he was walking in perpetual darkness. There was no light and the only thing he had to follow was that of a voice that he ached for. It was softly chanting something over and over. Finally, Vegeta came to a place were he saw a figure on a thrown at the back of the room. He knew immediately that it was his father - the crimson cape and the tall spiked hair couldn’t be missed.


“Son, come here.”

Vegeta hesitantly walked up the center of the isle on a red carpet, until he was kneeling before the king.

“Rise and listen to me, Vegeta.” The king waited until Vegeta rose and he had his full attention before continuing. “You have been starving yourself Vegeta. Why?”

Vegeta lowered his head as he stood before his father and softly responded, “I felt abandoned.”

King Vegeta looked at his son sympathetically, and nodded, “I understand how you must feel Vegeta, but you must understand that everything happens for a reason. Just because you feel the way you do, doesn’t mean that you can hurt yourself. You’re not just hurting yourself either, you know..?”

“I know.”

“Good. Now, Vegeta, you may not know that Saiya-jins live for over four hundred years. Children are few because of this. I don’t want you to die before your time. Understand?”

Vegeta looked up at his father, and nodded, “I’ll start eating and training again.”

“Good boy. You have a lot of catching up to do with your rival, so train hard. You may not be able to use ki, but if you train hard, when you can again, your ki power will rise to what it would’ve been and then it will double in amount. Training is definitely worth it.”


Vegeta looked at him surprised, “I had no idea…” Vegeta suddenly smirked, “When I see him again, I’ll pound him into the ground and make him feel all the pain I have.” ‘And more,’ he thought bitterly.

King Vegeta laughed, “That’s the spirit boy. Now, it is time for you to go. Try to get some rest and go on a vacation. You need one.”

The room and the light faded as once more Vegeta was thrown into the dark. Suddenly, out of the dark, the loved voice that had been chanting the whole time could be heard load and clear, as it sang Vegeta awake in a rich tenor:


To fast for days will cause a figure,

To waste away a waist, or wither.

Though fashion models will always try it,

Heroes need a less stringent diet.


It wasn’t the most romantic song in the world but listening to the voice he missed so much, he really didn’t care.




Bulma was overjoyed when he started to eat again, and although she tried to once again find out why he stopped eating in the first place, she never got an answer out of him.




Over the next month, Vegeta was very silent. Every Friday he would sing and play for Bulma and he practiced whenever he was done training. Finally one day, he approached Bulma and asked her if he could borrow the dragon radar.


She frowned at him and asked him why he needed it, but his answer was short, and his voice sounded tired, “I’m going on a vacation.” She decided not to press the issue and handed it over.

“Thank you.”

She looked at him in shock as he turned and left the room. ‘I’m worried about him. He actually said something nice!’


Because Vegeta couldn’t fly it took nearly a month for him to gather all the balls together. Finally though he pulled the last one out of the ocean, where he had had to swim down one hundred feet to reach it and put it with the others.


“You have summoned me. What are your wishes?”

Vegeta looked up at the dragon, pausing to consider the wish that he wanted to make. “I wish for my condition to remain unnoticeable, instead growing in an alternate space, until one hour before the right time.”


The dragon paused to consider the wish. ‘This is a tricky one and very unclear. However, I know what he means. Should I mess it up for him? Hmm…’

The dragon spook up after a moment, “Why not just wish to be rid of the problem?”

Vegeta frowned, considering the idea, “Because I haven’t gone through two years of hell to back out of it now. And besides,” he continued softly, “..I want this.”

The dragon considered him and made his decision. ‘I won’t mess it up for him. He really means all that he has said.’


“Very well, your wish is granted," eyes glowed red before returning to normal, "What is your next wish?”
“I wish for planet Vegeta-sei to be brought back to life, along with all the animals, plants and trees, but healthier and more lush than before.”

The dragon’s voice was booming as it said, “I can bring back the plants, but not the animals. It has been longer than a year. Is this alright?”
Vegeta was disappointed, “Can’t you bend the rules?”


The dragon was startled by the question. No one had ever asked such a thing before. His immediate reaction was to say "no", but then he looked closer at the man before him; a man different from all the others that had ever summoned him before. He seemed to glow with a bright hidden inner light and a small dim one. He also had a lot of passion in those eyes. This was something that he really wanted. The dragon knew that it exceeded that though. The man wanted his people back too. ‘Too bad that even with bending the rules I could never do that. The animals however…’

“Your wish will be granted. Don’t tell my superior should you ever meet him.” There was a flash and then the dragon was gone and so were the dragon balls for another year.


Vegeta looked down at himself and smirked sadly when he noticed that he once again looked like he always had before two years ago. ‘Now, to leave this pathetic mud ball and never come back,’ he thought as he went to his car and headed back to Capsule Corp.




Bulma wanted to know why Vegeta needed a ship and when he told her that he was leaving, she wanted to know where.


“None of your business, onna! Just let me have a ship so that I can take a break from you, Chichi, Goten…everyone! I just want to go somewhere where I can have peace and quiet for a bit.”

Bulma sighed; she knew the real reason that he wanted to leave. Seeing Goten everyday, the one that looked like the carbon copy of his father must have finally gotten to him.

“Fine, Vegeta, but don’t think that just because you are leaving means that you are getting out of your playing. When you get back, if you ever get back, then I will expect a big performance out of you. Do I make myself clear, mister?”

“Clear as mud,” he said sarcastically before snatching the ship from her hand. He immediately headed outside, popped the capsule and blasted off in the ship, where he spent the next four long lonely months of the journey back to his home planet.


People that helped me edit this one:



My friend Anna



Hosted by www.Geocities.ws