Confusion
Vejiita stared down at the man kneeling at his
feet, his hands limp in the Saiya-jin’s grip. He was unaware that his black
eyes had dilated and his breathing had become rougher, too stunned by Goku’s
words to think of anything else.
...you are Vejiita no Ou....
He swallowed rapidly, trying to decide what he
should do. Kakarrot had just... just declared him his king. He looked down at
their joined hands, wondering how he had come to this moment. He should have
been dead by now. Why in hell was he standing here holding Kakarrot’s
hands, of all people?
He clenched his teeth, looking away from the
other Saiya-jin to gaze at the night sky, feeling a humiliated blush sweep his
cheeks, along with a strange sensation of gratitude. It was so odd, to be addressed
by that royal title. He had never in his life thought to hear it. It swept
through him, tightening his throat and making his vision blur foolishly, even
as he cursed himself. It should not mean anything. It didn’t mean
anything, was just a bunch of nonsense that held no meaning any longer. But it
reminded him of what he could have been, what he should have been. For
Kakarrot, the only other full-blooded Saiya-jin, to say it, somehow... it
struck something...
Vejiita became aware that he was holding Goku’s
hands in a vice-grip and flushed more deeply, dropping them abruptly. This was
pity. Kakarrot pitied him. He would never be King.
He backed up a step, leaning wearily against the
rough bark of a tree, closing his eyes as he fought to keep his face from
betraying his agony. Why had Kakarrot come? To save him? He barked out a short,
bitter laugh, still fighting tears. He was so pathetic, but he knew he would
not kill himself now. Not for a while, at least. He would drag out his weary
existence for a while longer. Maybe... he could find something to believe in.
"Vejiita...."
Kakarrot’s voice drew him back to himself, and
he blinked, looking down at the other man who was still kneeling several feet
away.
"Get up, Kakarrot," he said hoarsely,
folding his arms across his chest. The other Saiya-jin complied, picking up
Vejiita’s knife as he did so. Something thrilled through Vejiita’s blood as he
realized that, by Saiya-jin law, Kakarrot should be killed for ever touching
the weapon. He was only a low-class warrior. He raised an eyebrow and forced
his lips to twist into his trademark smirk. "I’ll have to punish you
someday, Kakarrot, for daring to touch that knife," he said, extending his
hand for the weapon. "But... not today."
Goku met his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his
own lips, but he did not immediately hand Vejiita the weapon. "Vejiita, do
I have your word that you are not going to use this?"
Vejiita sighed, gazing into the other man’s dark
eyes. Why did he care? Did he really care? Then he shrugged, telling
himself it didn’t matter. "I give you my promise, Kakarrot."
Goku nodded. "Then I know you’ll keep
it," he said quietly, placing the knife in Vejiita’s outstretched hand.
The prince curled his fingers around the ebony
handle, holding it loosely as he stared off into the night, feeling
unbelievably weary. He heard the rustle of Kakarrot’s loose orange pants as the
Saiya-jin moved to stand barely a foot away from him. "Are you all right,
Vejiita?"
Vejiita wet his lips, knowing he could hardly
respond with his usual ‘of course I am, Kakarrot, why wouldn’t I be?’ Not after
all that had happened that night. Kakarrot would have to be a bumbling idiot to
believe it, and he wasn’t. At least, not anymore.
"No," he whispered, not looking at the
other Saiya-jin, "But... maybe I will be. Maybe..."
He picked up the movement out of the corner of
his eye as Goku nodded. Vejiita tried to suppress a flinch as he felt Kakarrot
set his hand on his upper arm. "You’ll pull through this, Vejiita,"
he said quietly, "you’re too strong not to."
Vejiita sighed again, bowing his head for a
moment and wishing he didn’t seem so pitiful. He shook his head, glancing at
the other man briefly. "I have been pulling my whole life, Kakarrot,"
he whispered, trying to sound calm rather than broken.
Goku was silent for a long moment, his hand
still resting on Vejiita’s arm. Then he slid it across his shoulder and lightly
patted his back before dropping it to his side. "Come on. Let’s go home.
Trunks has probably made himself ill with worrying by now."
Vejiita raised an eyebrow, looking over at him.
"I doubt it," he said flatly, hoping Kakarrot didn’t see how much it
hurt him. In fact, he almost dreaded having to face Trunks after the boy had
read his letter. What would he say? Or would he pretend it had never happened?
Vejiita hadn’t planned on knowing what his reaction would be.
Goku frowned a little, setting his hand on his
shoulder again. "Vejiita, I think you’re underestimating Trunks."
Vejiita sighed, shrugging off the offending
hand. "Whatever, Kakarrot. Let’s just go."
He took off without his usual aggressiveness,
flying at a relatively slow pace through the night, Kakarrot remaining at his
side. The other Saiya-jin was flying unusually close to him, in fact, and at
times they nearly bumped shoulders in their lazy flight. Vejiita glanced at him
several times, almost opening his mouth to question him about it, but then
changed his mind and flew on in silence.
In what seemed an absurdly short time to
Vejiita, they could see the lights of Capsule Corporation in the distance, and
he felt a knot tightening the pit of his stomach. His son was there. He didn’t
want to face him. He knew he was being a coward, but he didn’t want to see the
look in Trunks’ eyes, the mockery, the accusations. So this is how my big,
tough dad deals with his problems. He runs off like a weakling to slit his own
throat.... Vejiita winced, his fingers clenching more tightly around the
knife handle, the blade pressed back against his forearm as if he could hide it
from view.
Goku glanced at him, as if he could feel his
anxiety, but, to his relief, the bigger Saiya-jin said nothing.
They descended quietly, landing in the cool
grass of the front yard, and Vejiita stood still for a long moment, looking at
the light pouring through the windows onto the lawn. Long minutes passed, and
he could feel Goku looking at him quietly. He wondered at the other man’s
intuition, that he remained silent, saying nothing to encourage him. Somehow he
seemed to know that was not what Vejiita needed to hear. Finally, taking a slow
breath, Vejiita advanced toward the front door, feeling Kakarrot follow half a
step behind him. When he reached the door, he did not pause again, turning the
handle and stepping through the threshold in one movement.
His eyes found Trunks immediately. His son was
seated at the kitchen table, his head pillowed on his forearms and his eyes
closed. As soon as Vejiita stepped in, though, the door shutting behind him, he
snapped abruptly upward, as though just wakened from a very light doze,
blinking and staggering to his feet. His blue gaze focused on his father.
An odd, choking noise came from his throat, and
he took a half step forward, his hand lifting, then seemed to freeze in place,
merely staring, his throat working silently.
Vejiita heard Kakarrot step back toward the
door.
"I guess I’ll be heading home, then, too.
I’ll talk to you later, Vejiita. Bye, Trunks."
Vejiita wanted to scream at the fool not to
leave him here alone with his own son, but swallowed down the protest,
instead nodding calmly, his voice sounding only mildly strained as he said,
"Later, then, Kakarrot."
Trunks made an unintelligible sound, gesturing
vaguely, and Vejiita heard the door open, then shut quietly. He was alone.
He stared at his son, and the boy looked back at
him, saying nothing. The seconds of silence stretched into minutes, and Vejiita
cursed himself, feeling nearly panicked, wanting nothing so badly as to flee,
though his face looked as impassive as ever. Then Trunks took another step
toward him, drawing a ragged breath. He raised a hand to his hair,
unconsciously pushing some of the lavender strands back over his ear, looking
down at the floor for a moment. Then he looked at Vejiita again, and the prince
was stunned to see tears in his eyes.
He watched Trunks cheeks darken faintly, as
though he was embarrassed to be crying in front of him, and he sniffled most
unbecomingly. "F-Father," he said, his voice unusually high,
"I’m s-sorry.... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean..." He cursed suddenly,
wiping angrily at his tears, and Vejiita found himself stepping forward without
thought. He struggled for something, anything to say, and came up blank,
as was typical when he talked to his child. But... he didn’t want to see the
boy cry. Even through his own pain, he realized that. Helplessly, he reached
out and tentatively laid his hand on Trunks’ shoulder, the action seeming
unnatural and forced to him.
Trunks froze beneath his touch, seemed to stop
breathing, even, and Vejiita stiffened, beginning to pull his hand back. Then,
suddenly, his son was stepping toward him, his arms wrapping around him to
crush him in a tight embrace, the boy nearly lifting him off his feet.
Now it was Vejiita’s turn to freeze, his lips
parting in a silent gasp as he hung limp in Trunks’ embrace. It felt like the
boy was trying to squeeze the life out of him, and he hardly understood what
was happening. Trunks... was hugging him. He and his son had never embraced,
not really, and now he didn’t know what to do. But he could feel his son
shaking, trying desperately to stifle his tears, and something instinctive that
he didn’t understand made him reach up and lay his hand against the boy’s head,
gripping his lavender hair.
Trunks was pressing his face against Vejiita’s
shoulder, and Vejiita could feel the moist heat of his tears.
"F-Father," he tried again, his voice muffled, "I’m sorry, I-I
didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean what I said. I was angry, but I... I didn’t mean
it when I said I’d be better off without you." A choked-off sob escaped
his throat. "I’m sorry..."
Vejiita pressed his lips together, feeling his
own throat tighten. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against his son’s
soft hair that was so unlike a Saiya-jin’s. So like his mother’s. He... loved
him. Loved his son. It wasn’t the boy’s fault, what had happened. All
responsibility lay with him. In reality, he could hardly comprehend Trunks’
forgiveness, his acceptance of him. That the boy didn’t hate him seemed almost
unreal.
"No-" he began, then had to pause and
clear his throat. "No, don’t be sorry, boy. Everything that has happened
here is my fault. I... I caused this." He swallowed, his fingers
tightening in his son’s hair. "I’m... s-sorry, Trunks."
Trunks seemed to break, suddenly, and Vejiita’s
eyes widened as the boy began to cry audibly, nearly sobbing against his chest.
Then something paternal he’d never known he possessed made him softly rub
Trunks’ back, a low sound escaping his throat that was nearly a growl. But it
was not threatening like a growl; it was low, almost musical, and very calming.
Without realizing it, Vejiita was crooning a wordless Saiya-jin lullaby.
Trunks became quiet against him, seemingly
listening to his strange ‘song’. At the same moment Vejiita became aware of
what he was doing and flushed, stopping abruptly. Trunks sighed quietly and
stepped back from their embrace. Neither of them looked at the other for long
moments, each finding an interesting scratch on the floor to look at.
Then Trunks spoke, and his words came quietly,
becoming more hurried toward the end, as though he were trying to finish before
he lost his nerve. "Dad... I... I love you. And, I... I don’t know what’s
happened to you, or-or what made you do what you did tonight, but it’s all
right. I’m going to stick with you, you’re not alone. I promise th-that I’ll be
here when you need me."
Vejiita stood silently, folding his arms over
his chest and trying to ignore the burning in his eyes. But... He tried to
remember the last time anyone had said those words to him. He couldn’t. No one
had ever said that to him in his life. His own father had certainly never told
him he loved him. No, he’d sold him to Frieza to prove his affection. But
now... his son loved him. Maybe... Maybe he hadn’t failed entirely yet.
He took a trembling breath.
"Trunks..."
But then he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t say the
words, words he had never said in his life. Why couldn’t he say them? He
swallowed, cursing himself. Hesitantly, he glanced over at the boy. And Trunks
smiled at him.
"It’s all right, Father."
Vejiita’s strength suddenly failed him and he
sat down heavily on one of the chairs around the table, leaning forward and
resting his head in his hands. He could feel his tears coming and swallowed
rapidly, fighting them with all his strength. The last thing Trunks needed to
see now was him breaking down. He heard Trunks move to stand beside him,
shifting his weight uncertainly for several moments.
"Dad?" he said finally, "Are you
going to be all right?"
He nodded without lifting his head from his
hands and felt Trunks touch his shoulder lightly. "Maybe... Maybe someday
you’ll tell me about it. But it’s not important now. Get some rest, Father,
please. Don’t just sit up here all night. Are you going to go to bed?"
Vejiita laughed shortly, his face still in his
hands as he listened to his son look after him. "I’m not in a nursing home
yet, boy. Go to bed. I’ll be up shortly, you don’t have to worry about
me."
"All right," Trunks said after a
moment’s silence. "Goodnight, Father."
Vejiita grunted in response, listening as his
son’s footsteps receded up the stairs. And then he couldn’t hold it back
anymore. All the stress, the emotions, the ups and downs and memories of the
last two days was too much. Something snapped, and, hating himself for it, he began
to cry.
The hands gripped his shoulders; cold, black
claws digging into his flesh, cutting him to the bone. His own blood ran hot
and sticky down his skin, contrasting with the coldness of the hands. His
entire body convulsed, trying to escape the pain, the humiliation. He knew it
was futile. It had happened too many times already. But he fought anyway. He
had to fight, even though it only meant more pain.
Then he felt the alien pressing against him,
about to force his way into him, and he clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw
ached. Clenched his teeth to keep from screaming, so that the alien could not
have that satisfaction. And the thing was pushing inward, grunting as he tore
him, and a low, tortured sound escaped Vejiita’s throat, quickly stifled. His
breath came harsh as he still fought not to scream, not to break. But it was so
hard.... There was never any other pain like this. A pain that started at one’s
body but then bled into the soul.
It was agony; brilliant, lancing white dots
of pain that radiated through him and exploded behind his eyes. He’d thought
that he might have gotten used to it, given time, but there was no getting used
to this. No getting used to the tearing, the ripping inside him, feeling the
passage become slick, his own blood the lubricant. The warm crimson liquid
trickled downward, between his thighs, dripping onto the uncaring floor beneath
him.
Clear liquid fell, too, from time to time. He
was crying. He always fought not to cry, but he’d yet to succeed. At least now
his tears were silent; he wept without making a sound. He did not scream, he
did not sob. He suffered without noise. It made Frieza angry. The alien wanted
him to scream, to beg for mercy.
He felt the claws tear at his shoulders,
making the blood pour out more easily, more quickly. Vejiita stared down at the
blood that pooled around him. He saw so much of that color. Red. So pretty,
really. Vibrant. Red was life. That was his life, running down his arms, down
his thighs, onto the ground.
Frieza was moaning as he shoved into him
brutally, hissing with his perverted pleasure, reaching down to grope between
Vejiita’s legs. Vejiita’s vision swam with agony as the clawed hand gripped
him. But he would not scream. Not even as Frieza’s thrusting damaged his
internal organs. He was much too small to suffer this abuse without severe
consequences. Still only a child, and he had always been undersized.
Frieza again drove into him brutally, and he
just caught his scream in his throat, blood gushing out of him before he
finally, mercifully, fainted.
Vejiita jerked upright, his breath loud and
harsh in his ears as he threw back his covers, gripping his head in his hands.
His whole body was shaking violently, and he felt the wetness of tears
streaking his cheeks. Pain laced through him, centered just below the small of
his back, radiating through his body. He gasped violently, terror ripping at
his chest, his hands curling into fists in his hair, black spikes sticking out
between his fingers. His own breathing seemed deafening to him as he closed his
eyes, arching away from the pain, not understanding it. Still half-caught in
his dream, for a moment he wondered frantically if Frieza was back, then
gripped his throat in his hands, telling himself he had to be calm. Be calm,
when all he wanted to do was scream hysterically and run from what was hurting
him.
Leaning forward on his hands and knees, he
clenched the bedcovers in his fingers, closing his eyes and breathing slowly
through his nose, knowing that it would pass. That the panic would leave him if
he just waited a moment.
Slowly, the unthinking terror receded, and at
the same time he felt the pain at his back lessening until it was a dull,
hardly noticeable ache. Trembling now, he pressed his forehead against the bed,
not moving for long seconds. Then he gradually sat up, untangling himself from
his sheets and throwing his legs over the side of his bed to rise to his feet.
He immediately fell to his knees.
He blinked, wondering what the hell had
happened. And then something warm and soft curled over his thigh to brush his
hand.
Vejiita stared at it stupidly. His tail. His
tail had grown back. Reaching out, he lightly touched the furry appendage, as
though to make certain it was not a figment of his imagination. It remained
solid under his touch. He tried to move it.
At first it flopped around awkwardly, completely
graceless. But then his mind subconsciously adjusted, remembering once more
what it was like to have a tail, and he managed to curl it around his waist,
then uncurl it. Curious now, and still not completely believing he wasn’t
dreaming, he reached out and wrapped his tail around the leg of his bed, then
pulled. The bed groaned in protest as it was dragged several inches toward him.
The tail seemed strong enough. How odd. Tails could regenerate, of course,
but...
Then Vejiita moaned and buried his face in his
hands, once more wrapping his tail around his waist. His amazement at the
regeneration faded, leaving him feeling depressed and almost frightened.
Shakily, he climbed back to his feet, his tail unfurling as he unconsciously
adjusted his stance, balancing differently, just to see if he still could.
Swallowing, he left his bedroom and made his way
down the stairs, glancing at the clock to find that it was three in the
morning, hardly two and a half hours after he’d gone to bed. Moving into the
kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk, drawing a
glass out of the cupboards. But when he tried to pour the liquid into the
glass, his hands were shaking so badly that he managed to slop a great portion
of it onto the counter and floor. Cursing, he slammed the carton down, causing
the milk to spatter upwards, showering him lightly. Swearing again, his voice
tight and strained, he gave up, turning on the water faucet and leaning over to
drink the liquid directly from the tap.
Finished, he turned the water off and wandered
outside, feeling extremely tired but knowing he would not fall asleep if he went
back to his bed. He wanted to go somewhere, but he didn’t feel like flying.
Then he paused, sighing, and went back into the house, leaving a note for
Trunks on the table. He didn’t know when he’d be back, and he didn’t want the
boy to flip out if he woke to find Vejiita not there. Then he went out into the
night again, not caring that he was dressed only in the loose black gi pants he
wore to sleep.
The grass was cool under his bare feet as he
walked away from Capsule Corporation, no destination in mind, keeping his newly
acquired tail around his waist. What would he do now? His chest tightened. He
had humiliated himself, at least in front of Kakarrot. And God knew how many
other people knew what had happened that night. And his son... Trunks loved him.
He believed it. But did he pity him too? Did he think he was a weakling? How
could they not despise him, on some level? How could they not laugh at him? For
years he had boasted about his strength, mocked and belittled everyone around
him. Well, now they had seen the extent of his power. He was weak.
But, no! He would prove to Kakarrot that he
would not be beaten, that he would not be humiliated. It almost angered him,
that the other Saiya-jin had dared to witness his breakdowns so often, though
he knew it wasn’t really his fault. He would prove himself to Kakarrot.
But why? Another part of him argued. Why is it
so important?
He swallowed, looking down at the ground as he
continued to walk. Why was it so important that he have Kakarrot’s
approval, his respect? Who cared what the idiot thought?
"Kakarrot," he whispered into the
darkness, his heart twisting painfully. "You are destroying me. How can
you do this to me?"
He closed his eyes. Why was it you who found
out... what Frieza did... Why? Why can’t I just keep something of myself pure
in your sight? And why do I even care what you think?!
The prince snarled angrily, slamming his fist
against his thigh. Kakarrot had always been his obsession. For years, his
thoughts had revolved around the other Saiya-jin; he couldn’t get him out of
his head. When they had first met he had wanted only to better him, to grind
him into the dirt so hard that he’d never be able to rise. But then, to his
absolute horror, he had failed. He, the prince of the Saiya-jins, had
failed to defeat the lowly third-class warrior. And so his fixation had
remained.
His whole life he had felt a need to prove
himself to others, and with Kakarrot it had been no different. From the
beginning, he had wanted to force the Saiya-jin and all of his friends to
respect and fear him for his strength and power. He wanted, he needed to
dominate. But he couldn’t. Kakarrot always found some way to better him, to
defeat him, and, worst of all, even as he crushed him, he showed him compassion
and mercy.
Vejiita shivered, his eyes closing for a moment
as he continued to walk aimlessly, unconsciously wrapping his tail more tightly
around his waist. Mercy. Kakarrot’s mercy had enraged him, but at the same time
it confused him. It almost hurt him, and he didn’t know why.
He opened his eyes again, pausing to look up at
the night sky, stars twinkling brightly in the velvet blackness. For a moment
he wondered which one of them had belonged to Vejiitasai, then brushed the
thought aside. It hardly mattered.
Sighing, he gathered his ki, almost without
realizing it, and took to the air, gliding silently over the homes and streets
below. He still wanted to die, in some ways. But he would not kill himself now.
If nothing else, there was Trunks. For the boy’s sake he would go on living,
and try to maintain his confident facade.
The wind whispered coldly over his bare
shoulders and he shivered again, his thoughts drawn inexplicably back to his
dream. He winced, his hands moving to unconsciously press against his abdomen,
as though remnants of phantom pain still lingered there. No, he thought
desperately, I will not think about this now.
But then the images assaulted him, and he
gasped, his hands moving to grip his head as his eyes shut tightly.
"No..." he groaned though his teeth, dropping
toward the ground.
He felt his feet touch the grass, then dropped
to his knees, supporting himself on his elbows with his head still in his
hands. His breath came loud and fast.
...clawed fingers touching him, tearing
him....
A low moan eased from his throat.
...a cruel, sadistic voice murmuring
throatily in his ear. Laughter....
He hissed, twisting sharply to sit on the
ground, bracing himself with a hand as the other remained clenched in his hair.
...a hand stroking, fondling, teasing,
humiliating....
"Stop it," he choked out, as though he
could force his memories back by speaking.
...blood, trickling down his thighs, his
chest and arms... that hand, smearing his own blood across his skin...
"Stop!" he screamed, his throat raw as
he slammed his fist against the ground. Shaking, he forced his mind to
blankness for a few precious moments, bile rising up as he gasped for air.
Raising his head, he dragged himself to his feet, bracing himself on a nearby
tree without realizing it. He was trembling with violent self-disgust. How many
times was he going to break down like a fucking cry-baby?! The past two days
had turned him into a nervous wreck, the memories he’d managed to keep
suppressed for years seemingly out of control.
"God damn you to hell, Kakarrot," he
gasped, cursing the other Saiya-jin for ever questioning him about his past.
Then he heard a door open.
He froze, blinking. What in the hell?
Twisting sharply, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was while
wondering if he was imagining things. Then his mouth dropped open as he gaped
in absolute disbelief.
He was in his front yard. He was in Kakarrot’s
front yard!
Groaning low in his throat, he leaned his head
back against the tree behind him, closing his eyes. "Shimata,"
he cursed wearily. He then almost broke into hysterical laughter. How had he
managed to end up here? Everything seemed to be throwing him and Kakarrot
together lately. He pressed his face against the tree, the rough bark scraping
his cheek. But no, each time it had been him. He kept coming back, almost like
he was seeking Kakarrot out without even realizing it.
Why do I need him?! he thought desperately. Why do I do this to myself?
Kakarrot... what is it... what is it about you?
He knew without looking that Goku would be
walking across his lawn, heading toward him unerringly. He almost felt it when
the Saiya-jin paused beside him. Of course, he would have heard him scream out
like a child... The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted Kakarrot
to respect him, not... see him like this.
There were long moments of silence, Vejiita
still refusing to look at the man beside him.
"Vejiita," Goku said finally, his
voice quiet, "What happened?"
Vejiita shrugged, trying desperately to feign
nonchalance. "Nothing, Kakarrot. I just needed some fresh air."
"That doesn’t explain why you’re standing
in my yard." The other issue remained unvoiced between them. It also
doesn’t explain why you were screaming.
Vejiita cleared his throat. "Everything’s
fine, Kakarrot. I just... I was just..." his mind searched desperately for
anything he could say. "Working out!" he blurted finally, then winced
at how completely unbelievable it sounded.
Goku was silent for a moment, and Vejiita could
feel his eyes on him. "Did you have a dream?" he whispered suddenly,
and Vejiita turned to stare at him, unable to keep the shock from his features.
How the hell could he have...? Then he tried to recover himself, letting out a
laugh that sounded forced even to his own ears.
"Of course not!" he said, his voice
shrill as he fought to keep the memories from flooding him again, "Do you
think a little nightmare would send me running to you, or something?"
Vejiita suddenly realized his hands were shaking
and stifled a curse, folding his arms to hide the trembling. He felt like
running; his stress had reached the breaking point, but he had to stay. And he
wanted to...
He swallowed rapidly as he felt confused,
frustrated tears building in him. He suddenly wished Goku would simply fire a
ki burst straight into his heart, just to end the chaos inside him.
God! Kakarrot... help me... please...
"Vejiita..." Goku whispered
uncertainly.
"What?!" Vejiita snapped, trying to
mask his pain with anger.
Suddenly Goku froze, his eyes widening as he
stared at something. Vejiita tried to follow his gaze, wondering what the
problem was. Then he realized that he had unconsciously unfurled his tail, and
that it was now snapping from side to side in agitation. He abruptly wrapped it
around his waist again, as though he could somehow hide it. He didn’t really
even understand why he wanted to hide it, it was just instinctive.
Goku stepped toward him, still staring at his
tail. "Vejiita... what...? When...? How did this happen?"
Vejiita crossed his arms over his chest, staring
over Goku’s shoulder as he shrugged. "I don’t know," he muttered
hastily, "I was dreaming," he began, then winced as he realized he
had just exposed his own lie. It was too late to stop now, though. "I was
dreaming, and when I woke up, I had a tail."
"Hmmm..." Vejiita glanced at Goku to
find that the Saiya-jin had still not looked away from the tail that was
tightly wrapped around his waist. "What were you dreaming about?"
Vejiita stiffened, unaware that the color had
drained from his face. "Nothing!"
Goku met his gaze for a moment, not speaking.
Vejiita swallowed, cursing himself and wondering why it felt like Kakarrot
could see through him.
"Can I see it?" Goku asked suddenly.
Vejiita stared at him. "What?" he
asked stupidly.
"Can I see your tail?"
Vejiita frowned. "You’ve seen a tail
before, you idiot. You had one yourself, if you’ll remember."
"Yes, I remember!" Goku snapped,
sounding slightly irritated. Then his voice softened again. "But it’s just
been a while. I don’t know why... I’m curious."
Vejiita wet his lips, feeling his pulse pounding
in his throat. For some reason Kakarrot’s request terrified him to the point
that he had to stiffen his body to keep from shaking.
"D-Don’t be a fool, Kakarrot! This is
ridiculous!" His voice was laced with scorn, but Goku looked at him
sharply, and Vejiita cursed his perception. Goku’s eyes narrowed.
"You’re afraid."
Vejiita tensed at Goku’s words, a flush sweeping
his cheeks. He gritted his teeth, knowing he could not back down from the
challenge, that his pride would not allow him to back down from the challenge.
"I am not afraid!" he protested, too
loudly. In a desperate bid to prove his words, he loosened his tail from around
his waist. Goku extended his hand.
Vejiita’s breath rasped in his throat as he
forced himself to lay his tail across Goku’s open palm, his hands curled into
fists and tucked under his arms to stop their shaking. But his tail... the
furry appendage was trembling violently and he blushed more deeply, humiliated.
But it would be even worse to back down now.
"Shhh, Vejiita..." Goku whispered,
very lightly closing his fingers around the prince’s tail, the other hand
coming up to stroke the soft fur.
Vejiita bit his lip to keep from making any
noise, his eyes widening as he pressed his back against the tree. Goku gently
caressed his tail, from just above halfway up, down to the tip, and he gasped
through his nose, his eyes rolling back in his head. What... was this? Goku’s
touch sent little shocks racing through him, making him shiver. His breath came
shallowly as he tipped his head back against the trunk, swallowing. The other
Saiya-jin’s hand slid upward, going the opposite direction of the lay of
Vejiita’s fur, ruffling it, and the prince reached out to grip one of the
branches above him, his knuckles turning white as he held on tightly. He had
never known... he hadn’t realized... Whenever... Frieza had touched his tail,
the pain had been incredible, enough to send him to his knees, but this...
Goku stroked down his tail again, and Vejiita
made a low keening sound deep in his throat, his knees going weak as he nearly
slid to the ground. But then Goku was there, holding him up, supporting him,
one hand still on his tail, the other around his waist, pressing them together.
Goku’s hand continued to caress his tail, and
then his lips were on his shoulder. Vejiita could not think, he only felt, and
a low moan escaped him as he tipped his head to the side.
"Vejiita," Goku whispered, "It’s
all right..."
He placed soft kisses along Vejiita’s shoulder,
up his neck to lightly nip his ear.
Vejiita’s breathing was harsh, his hands
clinging to Goku’s shoulders, his entire body trembling. His mind could hardly
function, he couldn’t understand what had happened. But it didn’t matter,
because for once in his life it didn’t hurt... Someone else was in control, and
it didn’t hurt.
Goku’s hand slid from the base of his tail to
the tip, and his vision whitened as his body arched without thought. He felt
Goku’s lips on his cheeks, kissing away tears he hadn’t known he had cried, and
a soft sound slid from his throat. Then Goku’s lips were against his own,
brushing against them softly, and he instinctively opened his mouth, his tail
slipping from Goku’s grip to wrap around the other Saiya-jin’s thigh. Goku’s
hand came up to gently grip the nape of his neck, tilting his head further
back, and then his tongue brushed over Vejiita’s lips, stroking them softly
before dipping into his mouth. Vejiita moaned low in his throat, heat rushing
through him as Goku’s tongue slid against his, his hand moving to clench in the
other Saiya-jin’s hair. He could not believe what he was feeling, it had never
been like this... Kakarrot...
Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he almost
choked, nearly biting Goku’s tongue. This was Kakarrot! he thought
wildly. He was in Kakarrot’s arms, with Kakarrot’s lips on his
and his tail around Kakarrot’s thigh! The person that was making him fall apart
was Kakarrot!
He staggered backward so quickly he nearly tripped,
gasping for breath, his stunned gaze on Goku’s flushed face. He was shaking,
suddenly feeling cold without the other Saiya-jin’s arms around him. He just
stared at the man for long seconds, trying to come to grips with what had just
happened. Oh my God...
Goku stepped toward him suddenly.
"Vejiita..." he started, but Vejiita could not listen.
He stumbled backward several more steps,
wide-eyed, then blasted off into the night.
Back to:
Home My Fanfiction Guest Fanfiction Image Gallery My Guestbook