Damaged Souls: Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own DB/Z/GT

 

Many thanks to my beta-reader Chibigoku for her generosity and enthusiasm.

 

 

AN: This story takes place eleven years after Buu, Goten and Trunks are over eighteen, so, for things that will happen in later chapters, no minors involved. (But they won’t be a couple here). Gohan never married Videl, so Pan doesn’t exist. Bra doesn’t exist either, but I can’t reveal why yet, it will be explained in next chapters.

 

 

 

DAMAGED SOULS

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Be careful what you wish for, they say...because you may get more than you bargained for.

The adage probably had crossed Goku’s mind, now that all his dreams had come true in the form of a dreadful nightmare; what he had craved, waited for so long: the ultimate challenge; an unbeatable enemy; to meet the most powerful being in the universe.

After the initial excitement, that euphoria, that exhilarating rush of adrenalin that always made him feel so alive, providing a pleasure that could not be compared to any other sensation, all had turned to the worst…

 

 

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The day had started off as any ordinary day. At the crack of dawn both full blooded saiyans were in the gravity room, ready to start their training. (It had become a daily routine during the last eleven years, since one day shortly after Buu’s defeat, Vegeta made his appearance at the Son’s residence demanding Goku to go spar with him.)

They had been enjoying a fierce exchange of strikes for three hours, in what they used to call their warm-up exercises before starting for real, when Goku, feeling a slight nip at the back of his mind, suddenly paused and, wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, landed gracefully on the floor.

A grunt of annoyance rumbled in Vegeta’s throat, but when he saw the serious and concentrated look on Goku’s face, the prince swallowed the sarcastic retort that was about to pass through his lips.

He could so easily read each of Goku’s gestures and expressions, that no word, no explanation was needed to realize that the younger saiyan had detected a potential danger. So, after giving a curt nod in tacit understanding, Vegeta switched off the controls of the gravity machine and both men left the chamber.

Stretching out with his senses, Vegeta was assaulted, almost knocked, by the overwhelming force of an unfamiliar ki signal. But quickly, a clamor arose from each and one of his cells; it was his lust for battle, making his entire body tingle in sheer joy, sweeping away his initial astonishment and prevailing over any other emotion.

He closed his eyes slowly and licked his lips in anticipation, savoring the moment, and, drawing a deep breath, chuckled knowing that Goku was feeling the same; he could smell it oozing from every pore of Goku’s skin.

Opening his eyes, he let them flicker to meet Goku’s shining gaze, and smirking in complicity, blasted off into the vast, clear sky.

Soon the three demi saiyans, having abandoned their mundane activities the very same moment they had perceived that mysterious and massive source of energy, joined their fathers in their silent flight. All of them, even Vegeta, with identical grins of anticipation and excitement plastered on their faces.

Over the years, Vegeta had witnessed with disappointment how the wild, saiyan side of Trunks and Goten, so manifest during their childhood, had started to fade out once the boys reached puberty, overcome by their human nature. They barely trained anymore, having developed other interests; Goten had started to hang out with girls while Trunks, following in his mother‘s steps, wished to become a scientist.

But Vegeta still could be proud that in the moment of truth, when danger was prowling around, creeping in the shadows like a burglar, all of them, even Gohan, unable to disown the call of their blood, followed, embraced with passion his most primal and atavistic instincts. That perpetual fire boiling in his veins, driving them to meet the danger like insects attracted by a flame, to die a glorious, blazing death. They were and always would be warriors; they live for it, they would die for it.

Piccolo had appeared too, eliciting a grumble of distaste from the moody prince, who, mumbling something about useless weaklings, speeded up, to fly alone, some meters ahead from the group. The namekian did not even blink, unaffected by Vegeta’s attitude. He was the only one left of the gang who still shared that undying passion for fighting. All their human friends had renounced to their old adventurous life and had grown apart. Some of them had settled with their families, some of them had moved on to distant places. Time was an implacable enemy and had left its indelible mark, cooling off their hot blood and their battle-lust.

 

As the group approached the area where the signal came from, their breaths were becoming more and more arduous due to the suffocating, hot air. Surveying their surroundings, they found that their fate was waiting for them in one of the most inhospitable and desolate deserts of the planet. Yards and yards of red, alluvial terrain, extended far beyond the eyes could reach, smoking under an implacable sun. And nothing else, except a blurred silhouette; one could think to be one of those optic illusions that could be seen so frequently on hot and still days, in such arid regions, if not for the powerful aura it irradiated.

Coming closer, they took notice that the object of their worry was an anthropomorphic being with smooth, light-blue skin, totally bare of hair or fur; his lipless mouth was a narrow line, it looked like an incision made with a knife; instead of nose he had a wide crease, one could even find it comical if not for the two tiny red eyes glowing like sizzling embers, which gave him a rather malevolent appearance.

A priory, and despite his peculiar aspect, the creature had not seemed much of a threat; he was bulky and taller than all of them, even towering over Piccolo; and, certainly, it had an impressive power level, but nothing that they were not able to handle. All of them had the certainty that, soon, the ugly being would be biting the dust, begging for his life. So all of them had laughed at his stupid arrogance, when the humanoid had introduced himself as Hakaisha, the destroyer, making clear his intentions to kill them all and reduce the planet to ashes.

Except Goku; he had remained serious and silent. That voice in the back of his head always on alert during battle, told him otherwise. Not only this being’s aura was made of negative energy and his strength was greater than it appeared; the younger saiyan had caught only a glimpse of the real thing and almost stumbled, overwhelmed by it. But there was something more, something concealed, dark and dangerous, that Goku was unable to detect because the beast had lifted an almost impenetrable barrier around his mind.

But the most unsettling, blood-curdling thing had been to experience for just a second, before the monster was aware to be mentally scrutinized, that he had no conscience, scruples or principles of any kind, no soul. Not even Cell or Buu or any other enemy they had confronted in the past was so unemotional, so inhuman, deprived of any kind of feeling or empathy. If they could not beat him then they were all doomed. All Goku could perceive from him was a necessity to satiate some primal instincts and appetites, nothing else.

But when he had shared his concerns with his companions, warning them, begging to be cautious, their innate pride and arrogance had prevailed over any other consideration, and Goku’s apprehension went totally ignored. But who could blame them? Hell, he was the first devoured for his insane bloodlust, wanting nothing else than starting the onslaught.

But it was Vegeta who took the initiative after scathingly reproaching the younger saiyan for his cowardice, (Goku just shrugged expecting it. In the peculiar friendship both saiyans had built over the years, all those rebukes, cutting retorts and insults had remained just as a trademark of the prince, a habit difficult to erase; but with no real intention to hurt, quite the contrary, it could be traced a tone of affection, one even could say tenderness, subtly veiled under the halfhearted harshness.)

Then, after pinning them all into place with a feral glare, forbidding any kind of interference, the prince charged against the creature. All of them sighed, except Piccolo who grunted his disapproval and annoyance at being ordered around, frowning and folding his arms, (He had not overcome his distaste for the prince after so many years as allies. They never had gotten along well, there were too many similarities between them and as they say, alike poles repels each other. But Piccolo could never forgive Vegeta for stealing from him Goku‘s affection, for taking his place in Goku’s heart. Goku had been his first and only true friend, someone who had trusted him like nobody else. Not even Gohan, who was like a son to him, had shown him such blind faith and warmth; but everything had changed when the prince stormed into their lives.)

Meanwhile, the demi-saiyans‘ minds were occupied, too, with their own reflections. They knew very well what would happen: Vegeta in his compulsive necessity to assume the leadership, to feel he was in charge, to show he was capable of handling the situation without anybody else’s help, would let his arrogance take the best of him. As always, he would tend to overestimate his abilities and power, and to underestimate his enemy’s. When he’d become aware of his mistake and start to get beaten and, worst of all, humiliated, he would release all his wrath, becoming an enraged killing machine, aggravating the situation. And Goku would have to intervene to fix the mess, saving the day and getting all the appraisals. And Vegeta would be keeping a grudge against Goku for weeks.

Trunks sighed deeply; he would be the one to have to deal with an infuriated (more than usual) prince. There would be destruction of furniture and unjustified aggressions to the CC. employers, (fortunately, his grandfather would deal with people’s complaints, sues, and resignations, paying bills and hiring new people.) Trunks shuddered, suddenly dreading the day he would have to take charge of the familiar business and contemplated, for just a second, the idea of using the dragon balls to ask for eternal life for his grandfather.

But the worst would be having to hear for hours the constants imprecations, insults, curses and rants against Goku. And Trunks deeply hated it because since he first met him, he had developed a special affection for the taller saiyan; his cheerful and jovial character, so different from his father’s coldness, and that irresistible charm the earth-raised saiyan showed so liberally but unconsciously poured around, had always drawn him to the man.

Later, would come the depression and the moping. Trunks had been utterly shocked the first time he witnessed such unexpected behavior from his arrogant father; but he realized that even Vegeta needed a friend or at least someone who could stand him. And Goku was the only one capable of that.

Vegeta was unable to be apart from the other saiyan for long periods of time, so, inevitably, he would go looking for him to spar as if nothing had happened, and things would return to normal. But before that happened, life would be hell for the CC residents.

All those musings faded into oblivion as they watched, incredulously, how the creature seemed to be immune to any attack. At first, Vegeta had been striking merely with his fists, mainly to determine the real extent of his rival’s physical force, to see how he moved in battle and to find possible weak points. But the enemy did not even bother to duck or block the oncoming strikes; the impacts seemed to have the same effect as simple caresses on him.

As time slip away, Vegeta’s thin patience seemed to decrease at the same rate his anger grew deeper. He powered up to level two, hitting harder and faster. His breath was starting to become laborious and uneven, and thick drops of sweat ran profusely from his forehead. But his opponent, showing no sign of fatigue or pain, remained in the same position, with his arms folded over his chest, and a scornful look in his devilish eyes, taunting him with that smirk of superiority which seemed permanently frozen on his lips.

Being beaten where it hurt the most, his sense of pride, Vegeta, pausing, clamped his mouth tightly and glared at his foe with contempt. He would not tolerate to be ridiculed and humiliated by such an unworthy piece of trash; so, hovering up in the sky several inches above his rival’s head and roaring like a beast, he unleashed all his growing rage in the form of a massive rain of ki blasts.

The prince smirked, thinking to have caused a fatal harm; but once the dense cloud of smoke and dust started to vanish, Vegeta’s expression of satisfaction was replaced by other of shock and disbelief when he realized that all his attacks had been in vain. The creature was still standing there, unfazed, impervious to everything, without a scratch, without a mark, he had not even broken a sweat.

But, composing himself quickly, Vegeta powered up to level three and delivered another barrage of potent shots, and then other, and other…until he was so drained of energy that, unable to keep aloft for any longer and reverting to his normal form, with a great deal of effort he landed on the floor, panting heavily.

Taking advantage of Vegeta’s tiredness the creature threw a brutal counterattack; despite his corpulence, he moved at an unmatchable speed, giving no time to his opponent to react. Vegeta, unable to block any of the hits, was being continuously smashed into the ground, but nothing else than small gasps passed through his lips. He always staggered to his feet, paying no heed to the excruciating pain jolting through his body. Finally with a violent strike across the head, Vegeta crashed against the heated soil and lay there semi-unconscious.

The others had remained watching the battle from afar as Vegeta had commanded, being rendered immobile and speechless, mistrusting their own eyes. They could not understand how easily Vegeta had been beaten, when e his ki could be sensed still flaring at maximum. Trunks ran to give him a senzu bean while the others, brushing off their shock, started to fight the beast.

Time fled, along with their strength and hopes. Nothing had worked; nor the five saiyans ascended at their maximum plus Piccolo joining all their forces, nor the mystic powers of Gohan, nor the fusion Gotenks. Goku had even tried a Genki dama, but at that point he was too weak to collect the sufficient energy, and there were not any more senzu beans left.

Too late, had they realized that their attacks not only didn‘t cause any harm, but also serving to strengthen their foe instead. At first, they had thought that his skin acted as some sort of shield, repelling their blasts; but its real function was to absorb all the energy that impacted on the surface. So they were nurturing him with every new attack; while they were in a lamentable state.

They were certain he had only made use of a minuscule fraction of his energies but his strikes were more painful than nothing they had experienced before.

It had become evident that this hideous being was toying with them, finding a sickening pleasure in inflicting to his victims as much suffering as possible before delivering the definitive ‘coupe de grace’. And this conviction had made them lose all their confidence.

But if they still had a little faith in their possibilities, it vanished at the terrible revelation that this creature had the power to destroy not only their bodies but their souls. Being killed by one of his blows would mean total annihilation; no trace, not even a little speck or atom would be left of them, not in this world and neither in otherworld.

A visceral fear, born from the guts and distilled along with every drop of sweat, filled the air. A fear greater than life itself. So thick that it was almost tangible. It had spread like fire through their bodies, burning all their insides, to nest in the depths of their hearts. But it did not refrain them to keep on fighting until their last breaths.

Even Goku was experiencing, for the first time in his life, the bitter taste of defeat, convinced that all was lost and there was nothing he could do. Except Gohan, who had taken the last senzu bean a little while ago and was still able to oppose resistance, Goku was the only one left standing upon his feet, though hardly. He was wobbling, weak due to the blood loss; only his willpower and his stubborn determination kept him from collapsing.

Panting roughly, he looked around, letting his cloudy eyes wander over the desolate scene: scattered on the ground like ragged dolls, the battered bodies of his unconscious companions: Piccolo, Goten, Trunks, Vegeta… all of them, fallen, beaten.

His heart skipped a few beats, and, swallowing thick, he clamped his eyes tightly shut in a childish and absurd attempt to deceive himself with the illusion that if he could not see it then it wasn’t real and nothing of this had happened. But the poignant images flashed through his mind incessantly, haunting him; and the harsh stench of blood hung heavily in the air, invading his nostrils, making it impossible to forget. Suddenly, not knowing exactly why, memories of his combat with Radditz filled his mind.

It had been disgusting to find that someone who had claimed to be his brother, his family, his own blood, had no dignity, no honor. He had so shamelessly showed such cowardice begging pitifully for his life when he had been defeated. Maybe that’s why Goku had never felt any regret or repentance for causing his death.

Goku shot his eyes open; he had never been a coward, he would not act like his brother. He would confront death like any other enemy: standing tall and proud, head up, looking at its very face with defiance, without concessions.

But he could not help a sudden, stinging pang of remorse, believing that he had, somehow, failed everybody. He was not capable of finding a way out of this situation. This time he could not save them.

But what had he expected? To suddenly attain a new level to amaze everybody, or to come with a genial master plan to prove he still was the best, to save the day again and be the hero? All of his past deeds, his heroic acts…had they been performed with the only purpose to get praise and admiration? Had he been always as vain and presumptuous as now he seemed to be from this new perspective?

He had never felt such necessity to question himself and his motivations until now. What had really moved him to save the planet? Had he given preference to his enjoyment and his prestige as a warrior over the wellbeing of his loved ones?

Goku searched deep within himself and he discovered, ashamed of himself, that, in honesty, he did not know the answer.

Goku hissed, grimacing, not at the physical pain -he had become very accustomed to it- but at that frustrating sensation of impotence and rage that was swallowing him up. Then he spitted, trying to get rid of the taste of blood that was mingled with another new and different flavor: desperation. For the first time in his life, he felt like a helpless child. And he cursed his damn vanity. But suddenly, a barely audible murmur reached his ears, interrupting the course of his somber thoughts

“Ka…Kakarooo…” The voice was as fragile and weak as the thread that held his owner to life. Vegeta, tilting his head to look in Goku’s direction, was scratching and digging his nails into the arid soil in an attempt to draw himself upon his hands and knees, but only to have his fingers and hands bruised and bleeding. Goku heaved a deep sigh in commiseration at the painful sight.

But not only Vegeta’s extreme suffering was reflected on the bloody mess that was his face; his undyingly combative spirit, his stubbornness and determination could be traced also, like a burning fire shining in the depths of those obsidian, ardent pupils, keeping him alive. And that arrogant attitude of constant defiance was almost comforting, because it was the only certainty in this crazy world.

Goku walked over to kneel before the crawling prince and gently laid a hand on his shoulder; Vegeta winced slightly at the touch and with a cough of blood the little strength still left in him escaped, and he collapsed in the dirt to lay on his stomach, unmoving.

Goku flipped over the limp body very carefully and let his gaze peruse all over it. Vegeta was all covered in blood, dirt and grime. His sweat-soaked hair hung down, clinging to his chiseled face and neck. Some locks, sticky with dried blood, were encrusted to his forehead and Goku reached out to pull them apart, but he paused, as Vegeta shuddered and whimpered in pain.

At first sight, he seemed to be in a very delicate condition; earlier, Goku had checked the two fallen demi-saiyans and Piccolo, and though they were unconscious it wasn’t anything as bad as this.

Surveying more meticulously the extent of the damage, he soon took notice of the critical state of the prince: his eyes were swollen and black, his nose was broken and his lips cut; every inch of his skin was covered with bruises, scratches and gashes, and blood flowed in rivers and dropped on the ground, forming a crimson pool all around him; the muscled chest rose and fell with difficulty and his breath was slow and ragged, possibly due to broken ribs and punctured lungs; the pulse was very weak, almost inexistent, his heartbeat was erratic and slow and, probably, his internal injuries were, at least, as serious as the rest.

Goku was certain that the prince was still alive only because of his stubbornness; anybody else in such condition would have already died. If the circumstances weren’t so awful, the younger saiyan could have laughed; the damn bastard, who else would dare to defy the very death so shamelessly and arrogantly?

Vegeta spitted out more blood, with eyes tightly closed, and let out a hiss before mumbling weakly: “Take us…to Dende…” Then, he arched his back but tried to look up ignoring the tiredness and intense pain bursting through him.

Goku shushed him, holding him in his arms firmly but gently, feeling, all at once, a burning pang jabbing his heart and a renewed admiration for the man. In spite of his state of frailty, the proud prince shifted in Goku’s lap to grasp some shreds still left of his gi top.

“Heal…fuse…” Goku, still a little disorientated from the beating, frowned trying to decipher the meaning of Vegeta’s words.

“Do you mean to fuse with me?” The prince nodded, exhaling a faint sigh. Goku almost smiled at Vegeta’s unexpected petition. But immediately a troubled scowl was drawn to his face.

“Vegeta, it won’t work, Gotenks’ attacks were ineffective, fused we’ll make him even stronger.”

Vegeta wished to have enough strength just to punch Goku’s face, or at least to release his rage in the form of a cutting retort; what a moment for Goku to play the dumbass. But he saved his remaining energy to try to chain some words into a coherent sentence.

“If we… are… fused the… spirit bomb may… work… nghh.“ Vegeta stammered between splitters of blood and grunts of pain.

Goku suddenly understood, and for the first time during those last, ominous hours a little light of hope seemed to break through the black desperation in which they all were immersed. Vegeta was a genius.

“Yes, we would be able to throw a deadly attack.” Once his last words left his mouth, Goku realized that the other man had passed out cold.

The younger saiyan brought two fingers to his forehead, praying to have enough energy to teleport himself and Vegeta to the lookout; fortunately, in an instant both appeared before a somber Dende, who had witnessed the dreadful events thanks to his powers; so no explanation was needed. After leaving his precious burden at the care of the young guardian, Goku returned to the battlefield.

Gohan was still fighting, only with his physical force, with his raw fists, to economize his energy, but he wasn’t being able to connect any blow into his target or to duck the attacks thrown at him; his skin was all purple and crimson with the bruises and the blood, and the mere act of breathing was becoming a very strenuous task. But, he was firmly determined to distract the beast as long as it would be necessary.

He had never lost his faith in his father. He had idolized his dad when he was only a shy and frightened child and, in his eyes, Goku still kept that golden aureole of hero, of god, of living legend. So when he noticed his father’s absence, Gohan was positively convinced that he had already conceived a plan to save them all.

When his father reappeared, Gohan, despite his pitiful state, turned to look at him smiling, raising two fingers in a sign of victory. Goku, nodding, with worry and pride, all at once, written on his face, went to pick up the two unconscious kids and Piccolo to teleport them to the lookout. He gave a last look to his elder son, who in that precise moment had crashed against the ground; but he left, knowing that Gohan would rise to his feet to keep on fighting until the end of his forces.

 

 

 

 

 

Dende was in deep concentration sending healing waves over the wrecked figure of the prince. Stopping in time the internal hemorrhage was his priority, being crucial to save Vegeta’s life. So when Goku returned with the three beaten bodies, Dende, without pausing in his task, instructed him to lay them on a huge, nearby bed. Goku did so and then, he sat down on the floor, leaning back his head against the side of the mattress. His ragged breath was the only sound floating in that serene space.

He inhaled deeply the clean air of the room, it was comforting even though still a slight scent of blood lingered. But at least there, the ambiance was fresh and relaxing, and he could forget that insufferable heat of the last past hours. Succumbing to exhaustion, Goku closed his eyes and dozed off.

When he roused some minutes later, Dende was scanning the children to determine the severity of their injuries. Fortunately their state wasn’t critical and they could wait until their parents were healed. So the namekian returned to Vegeta’s side.

Although Vegeta’s life was not in danger anymore, it was taking longer than expected to fully restore the prince‘s healthiness due to the extent of his damage and the limited powers of the young guardian.

Meanwhile, Goku had started to get nervous and was anxiously pacing back and forth across the lookout, in spite of his weariness, worried for his son. Being all their ki’s signatures intermingled in their enemy’s aura; from there, Goku was incapable to discern how much of Gohan’s energy still remained within him. He only knew that his son would not be able to resist for much longer.

Goku never had been the pessimistic type, always looking on the bright side of things, even in the hardest of times. But at this point, only negative, doomed thoughts were bombarding mercilessly into his mind. Healing Vegeta might completely consume Dende’s energy and it would be a long while before he could tend to Goku. And If both of them weren’t at their maximum, the fusion wouldn’t work. And knowing Vegeta, he wouldn’t be able to wait patiently for Goku to be in perfect shape. He would fly back to the battleground to die fighting; and that would be the end.

The end… For the first time in his life Goku knew what the word panic really meant. He had been dead twice, but instead of a traumatic experience, it had been a wonderful adventure. He had felt as happy and alive as ever. How could he be frightened or distressed knowing that an eternity full of new and exciting surprises and challenges was awaiting him, to share it forever with his sons, as the Kais had promised him?

But in the course of the last events, the seed of fear had been planted deep within him, and nurtured by desperation; it had grown to hold his heart in a tight grip. It never had occurred to him, before now, the possibility of being completely obliterated from existence, not being capable of feeling anymore, his soul lost forever…nothingness, the worst of any punishment. A chill made him tremble from head to toes, being suddenly assailed by a deep desire to run to Gohan’s side. And he mentally berated himself; he shouldn’t have allowed his own sons to undergo such peril.

It was painfully ironic to discover the amount of flaws he had without being aware, until now that he was looking in the very face of death. How he had deceived himself, blind by his stupid narcissism. He had installed himself comfortably and shamelessly on the pedestal the others have put him in. But he was starting to realize that pedestals were stupid, useless things, made of lies and all kind of trash, making oneself lose real perspective of people and things. When you cannot look others face to face, be at their level, and start to think yourself better than anybody else, idiocy has irremissibly taken control over you.

Yes, he had been nothing but an idiot believing himself the heroic role he had been assigned: the savior, a pure and selfless soul; when the naked and devastating truth was that he was a fraud, a complete failure as a father, friend and human being. And he wished with all his heart to be given a second chance to make amends.

 

Finally, after what Goku thought to be an eternity, Vegeta was again in possession of all his faculties and power. And, fortunately, Dende still kept enough energy to restore Goku’s strength. Without delay, the two saiyans had performed the ‘stupid little dance’, giving birth to the mighty Gogeta.

Upon agreeing with Vegeta’s wise suggestion to form the spirit bomb before teleporting back to the battlefield so they could catch the damn creature with its guard down; Gogeta, with his gaze lost beyond the horizon, after powering up to level three, was standing at the edge of the lookout with lifted arms, palms turned upward, gathering all the positive energy that was being sent from every corner of the universe. It would have been impossible without the help of the kais, who had asked all the inhabitants of the universe under their respective jurisdictions to collaborate.

Brilliant flashes of white energy ran through the skies to collide into the growing light-blue sphere that was suspended above the warrior’s head.

Gogeta’s unperturbed and vacant countenance was a mere illusion, a mask hiding a tormented being, torn between conflicting emotions.

In the past, every time both saiyans had fused, their opposed personalities, instead of colliding, complemented each other perfectly. A harmonious dichotomy confined within that amazing entity. Being usually Vegeta’s side the impatient and hot-blooded one, controlled and smoothed by Goku’s influence. But in this occasion, exceptionally, the roles had been reversed; the prince was the one keeping his head clear and cool, restraining Goku’s increasing anxiety and aborting the younger saiyan’s desperate attempts to teleport before the bomb was formed.

But before Goku would lose his nerves completely ruining their only chance to win, Gogeta had collected enough energy to deliver an effective attack and he rapidly returned to the battleground.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gohan lying on the ground. It was difficult to believe that such twisted, deformed and bleeding mass of broken limbs, raw flesh and dirt was a human body. He was seemingly unconscious because of the excruciating pain and the loss of blood.

Gritting his teeth with contained fury, Gogeta threw the huge ball at a very unimpressed creature, who rapidly reacted shooting a powerful ray right through the center of the giant sphere. But his arrogant and hideous expression was rapidly replaced by another of stupefaction and utter disbelief upon seeing how the bomb continued its unstoppable advance until engulfing him. Finally, the monster had been smashed into oblivion like the disgusting cockroach he was.

And then… nothing. And Gogeta erupted in a feral howl, feeling as if a part of his heart, the best part, had been ripped out of his chest leaving him incapacitated to feel any other emotion than agony and a deep anguish: No ki, no vital sign coming from the wrecked body of the demi-saiyan. Gohan was gone. Forever. Goku felt like dying a thousand terrible and painful deaths as bitter realization beat him hard: he would never meet his son again.

And Gogeta collapsed on the ground at the burning pang constricting his heart, his whole body convulsing while irradiating potent waves of energy, making the earth quake and roar. Then with a piercing, agonizing scream the two saiyans split up and lay on the ground surrounded by a dense cloud of smoke, debris and dust.

Vegeta was on his hands and knees panting heavily, trying to recover his breath, his mind too numb to process what had just happened. They were supposed to remain joined during thirty minutes, but he was sure that not more than twenty had passed.

Lifting his head, Vegeta looked around and when he spotted the younger saiyan, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a shiver ran up his spine at the heartbreaking scene performed before his eyes: Goku, grimacing, with all the pain of this world reflected on his face, was cradling the bloody corpse in his arms, humming softly a lullaby his grandfather used to sing at nights. And Vegeta didn’t know why such an awkward action, something that seemed so uncharacteristic from the younger saiyan, touched him so deeply, stroking a cord deep within his soul.

Meanwhile Goku was blind, mute and deaf to everything but his anguish. His heart was crying tears of blood, his soul was shattered and his entire world had been reduced to ashes, only pain being left. And the world was cold, and dark and crimson, like the blood that would not boil anymore through the veins of that lifeless body that he once had called son. And raising his empty eyes to the sky, he let them wander around, stupefied.

He was unable to understand why the planet, the whole universe had not ceased their course, or why the stars had not fallen down, or why the sun, the moon and the oceans had not stopped their movement at such great loss. Why the world had not been conquered by obscurity, now that the purest and brightest of the lights had been extinguished. And pain and wrath took what was left of his heart by assault.

And he started to power up, roaring like a wild animal, madness flashing in the depths of his hazy eyes. He gently laid the dead body on the soil and then, driven by an insane rage, blasted off into the sky.

Feeling suffocated as he flew, Goku gasped for air; and all of a sudden, he felt his body become as heavy as a rock. He released all the energy left in him with the vain hope to escape all those painful emotions; if he could stop feeling, if only he could die and be dissolved into oblivion, like his son, like his lost life…he unconsciously unleashed more and more of his growing wrath, and all that uncontrolled energy made the whole earth tremble.

Goku had lost, with his sanity, all dominion over himself and, like a hurt animal, was fleeing without thinking, unaware of his acts, only led by an irrational impulse. His mind was totally blank, he had no destination and no plan in mind, but in his blind fury he was pouring out more and more of his energy, blowing up everything and setting on fire all the land as he flew. If nobody stopped him, he was going to explode reducing the entire planet to ashes.

Vegeta had been witnessing with certain stupefaction the scene, like something unreal, a dream, or rather a nightmare; stunned, due to the range of emotions washing over him in such a little amount of time, being the predominant one, fear; a sheer fear to be alone again. But also confusion, anxiety, sorrow, sympathy, and some other sensations that he didn’t even know how to name.

But being a man of action, he rapidly put aside all those musing. Now he had to center all his senses and his energy to go in pursuit of the frenzied saiyan. He wasn’t going to allow the other to abandon him again. If Goku was going to end in a blaze of self-destruction, this time Vegeta would follow him.

Goku was moving at such speeds that, soon, he disappeared from Vegeta’s field of vision. The prince then had tried to locate his signal, but the energy emitted by the younger saiyan was so amazingly intense and strong that Vegeta could physically feel the pain as it pounded brutally within his head. Hissing, he blocked his mind. But it didn’t matter, it was easy to track the other saiyan, he just had to follow the trail of destruction and the smell of burning.

When he finally caught sight of the other male, Vegeta couldn’t believe his eyes. Maybe this dreadful day hadn’t happened and all of this was just a bad dream. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, mouth agape in astonishment.

Goku was there, stopped in mid air and surrounded by a powerful, brilliant aura; with a fierce but incredibly alluring appearance: His black, long, unruly mane hung down passed his shoulders; his eyes had changed in color- being now yellow- and in shape, not being as large as usual, but more alike Vegeta’s; and that red line around them gave him a feral and dangerous look. But the most astounding of his new features was the magenta fur covering most of his body; and his tail was back, and that same weird color.

Animalistic howls thundered, startling any living creature within hundreds of miles radius as Goku’s body was shaken by incessant spasms. And Vegeta wasn’t sure if the other had attained a new level of super saiyan or if it was some sort of semi-oozaru form, triggered by his transitory madness.

The power emitted by Goku was simply astonishing; it was impossible to believe a mere mortal was able to store such an amount of energy within his body, without exploding into pieces. And it kept on increasing with every passing minute.

Once partially recomposed from his shock; Vegeta ascended to level three and, though the expansive wave of Goku’s energy was too strong to get close; due more to his willpower and determination, than to his physical force, Vegeta had managed to latch onto the human torch Goku had become.

It felt like being in the very core of hell, like being submerged in a lake of boiling lava; so intense was the burning heat irradiated by that powerful body. But Vegeta remained stuck to the younger saiyan calling his name, with the meager hope that the other would regain his sanity.

Goku felt a little nuisance, something trying to restrain him and he had to get rid of it. So he twisted around and, without recognizing him, took a tight grip on Vegeta’s neck, strangling him while spiraling down until they crashed on the ground.

In his feral trance, Goku wasn’t aware of his acts or his surroundings; but, gradually, a persistent, whispering sound started to make way through his haziness, it was Vegeta’s faint voice repeating incessantly, his saiyan name. And as if that chant was some kind of magic spell with the power to conjure lunacy, Goku suddenly reverted to his normal form while his mind began to register what was happening; he could sense something warm pulsing under his fingers. He looked intently down to clearly see Vegeta beneath him trying in vain to gasp for air, as his throat was being constricted by powerful hands: Goku’s.

The younger saiyan couldn’t stop staring fascinated and, at the same time, horrified at Vegeta’s demeanor: The prince was not struggling for his life but offering himself like a propitiatory victim ready, willing, for the sacrifice, with a sad smile on his blue-for-the-lack-of-air lips; and half lidded brilliant eyes, filled with understanding and an atypical, unexpected sweetness.

Goku, completely mystified, still was tightly clutching the sore neck. But suddenly assailed by awareness, he abruptly let it go, as if it was a red-hot coal scorching his hand. Vegeta drew a deep intake of air into his lungs and coughed before looking up at the younger man, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Then, grabbing Goku’s hands, Vegeta placed them again on his neck.

“Kill me, Kakarot” Goku didn’t react, he had heard the words but the meaning hadn’t sunk in his head.

“Kill me, if that lessens your pain and makes you feel better, though even for just a second. I will die happy. Do it already, damnit!” The prince’s voice was profound, with a tinge of sadness, and in spite of the urgency and the cursing, it was so gentle, so soothing, like a balm to Goku’s broken heart; and as hypnotizing and tempting as a mermaid’s chant.

But Goku finally let him go; although his gaze stood fix on the pattern of red welts and purple bruises on bronzed skin. And suddenly he felt the odd urge to trace all those marks with his tongue. He blinked, more confused if possible, and then he moved apart, sitting on the ground.

“Why, Vegeta?”

“Don’t you know, Kakarot? After all these years and still you haven’t noticed” The voice now came out tired, weak, like a sad murmur, as Vegeta propping himself upon his elbows held the other man‘s gaze. Then, closing his eyes, a helpless sigh escaped through his tremble lips. “Why do you think, in spite my harshness and insults I’ve stayed on earth, going in your help whenever you needed it?”

“To save your family?” Goku’s words emerged mostly as an assertion than as a question, despite the inquiring tone.

“My family…” He trailed off, restraining a sardonic snicker at the sight of Goku’s mournful countenance. He would tell Goku all about his family, but now wasn‘t the time to vent up his pathetic, domestic tribulations. Goku had suffered an irreparable loss; Vegeta wouldn’t bother him with such trivialities.

He sighed again, then, shifting until he was knelt in front of the younger man, so close that their noses were almost touching, raised a hand to place it softly on Goku’s cheek. At the stunned look the other suddenly gave him, Vegeta whispered: “Don’t you know what you mean to me, Kakarot?”

Vegeta’s tone of voice was deliberately sensual as he savored, instead than pronounced, the exotic name that had become so familiar to the younger saiyan over the years. He leaned closer, grabbing the remains of Goku‘s collar shirt, to caress delicately, chastely Goku’s lips with his.

Goku remained petrified, but slowly a warm feeling coursed through him. The touch had felt like the petals of a rose, like silk, like the perfumed breeze of a summer morning. So unexpected, that bittersweet sensation, all that pain stabbing his heart and at the same time such tenderness from the man before him.

But it didn’t last enough for his mind to process the real significance of that simple gesture, and what just had transcended between them was lost to Goku. But then, a few tears slid down his cheeks and it felt so odd. Goku didn’t remember having ever cried before, but it was somehow comforting or at least relieving, washing some of his pain out of his system.

And soon, unable to restrain all that crushing grief anymore, an incessant stream of the salty fluid left his eyes. He sunk his head in Vegeta’s welcoming chest, sobbing, nuzzling against that warm body, wrapping his arms around the prince’s torso while gentle fingers ran through his hair and a soothing hand rubbed his back. Once the tears subsided, and feeling a little more at ease, Goku lifted his head to look at the prince through watery eyes.

“My son…He’s no more, I’ll never ever see him again. Not here, not in the otherworld, and there’s nothing I can do. I wished I would be dead as well.” Though oozing anguish, his voice sounded strangely serene. Vegeta held him tighter and whispered in his ear: “Shh, Kakarot, you can’t let yourself surrender to desperation, there’s some other people who need you.”

“But I can’t …I don’t deserve to keep on living. You can’t understand.” Vegeta stiffened at Goku’s words and loosened his grip on the younger saiyan. Goku didn’t know anything about all his past mourning and desperation. Those seven years without the other man…a sigh blew past Vegeta’s lips as painful memories he had confined in the most recondite corner of his mind, assailed his thoughts, taunting him, in a macabre dance.

When Goku sacrificed his life during the battle with Cell, Vegeta had refused to fight. Everybody had thought it had been a childish tantrum because it was another who had killed Goku instead of him. The fools, how dared them to judge him so frivolously when they did know nothing about saiyans.

When a saiyan warrior was in mourning for a loved one, it was the custom to renounce fighting for several years, it was a signal of respect and love only shown to close family or to a spouse/mate. And it was more than a mere symbol, it was in their blood, they felt irremissibly compel to do it. They were extremely passionate creatures, even in his pain; and when a beloved one died, the grief was so intense and deep that it overcame anything else, even their lust for battle.

And with that gesture, Vegeta had finally admitted to himself his real feelings for Goku.

It all had started when he first saw Goku as a super saiyan, fighting Freeza. Adoration had flashed just for a fraction of a second in Vegeta’s eyes, before the prince could banish such ’outrageous’ feelings from his head, from his cold heart, from his tainted soul, from his entire self. And later, when they had been brought to earth by the dragon, he had laughed, voicing out loud his rejoice for Goku’s death, but it just had been a desperate attempt to persuade himself that the other saiyan meant nothing to him, that he despised him deeply.

Vegeta had been deceiving himself for some time, but it was becoming more and more difficult to deny that his growing obsession for the younger saiyan entailed much more than mere rivalry. And he hated himself and Goku for this craving. Because Vegeta refused to give it any other name; it was a craving, nothing else; though hating it, he could grudgingly admit that he Vegeta, ‘wanted‘ someone, that was something he could feel comfortable with, without compromising his pride too much. But he didn’t ’need’, or ’care for’, and much less ’love’ anybody; because that would imply to claudicate, to submit, to renounce to his essence, and to admit his weakness. But deep inside, Vegeta knew that it was absurd to use semantic as a shield; because that feeling he refused to acknowledge was there, waiting to breach his defenses to creep its way into his heart.

But Goku’s death had been like a devastating tsunami washing away all those emotions that had been bursting through him: wrath, hatred, anger, frustration…and demolishing all his barriers and fronts, only leaving a man drowned in his pain; a man who had recognized too late, that it was love, that it had always been love.

 

Vegeta snapped out of his reverie and looked tenderly at the man that still was sobbing in his arms.

“I understand better than you imagine Kakarot. I’ve felt exactly the same way you’re feeling now; that anguish for the loss, that guilt for still being alive…”

Goku looked at him inquiringly and apologetically.

“Sorry, I forgot, our home planet…”

“No, Kakarot…You.” Goku frowned, again in confusion.

“My life ended when you died and decided to stay in otherworld. I had lost the half of my soul, the best half. It was so difficult to find the strength to wake up every brand new day knowing you wouldn’t be there. I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to be with you after dying, because of my horrid past, but I had expected at least to spend some years with you here, but when you left my life had no purpose, no meaning anymore.” Vegeta’s quivering voice was an unquestionable evidence of how hard it was being for the proud and reserved prince to open up his heart.

“Vegeta… I didn’t know… you were always so harsh, so distant. I thought you didn’t like me, that you just tolerated my presence cause you needed a decent sparring partner… Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I knew I had no place in your life, you were too committed to your family and I respected that.’’ A profound sorrow was the predominant emotion present in the prince’s voice as he reached out with his hand to caress Goku’s cheek again. When Goku nuzzled into the touch, a smile brightened Vegeta’s whole face.

“Vegeta…” At the needy tone of Goku’s whispering voice, the prince, still with his hand on Goku’s face, started to pour a rain of feathery kisses on Goku’s other cheek. The younger saiyan closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing himself to forget everything just for a little while, not remembering the last time he had been object of such a tender display of affection.

“Let me help you Kakarot.” Whispered in Goku’s ear. Then, tilting his head, Vegeta started a new kiss, this time more intense. He threw his arms around Goku’s neck, smiling into the kiss the very moment he felt Goku’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist and his newly re-grown tail stroking his back.

He pressed his mouth more forcefully against his partner‘s and, capturing Goku’s lower lip between his, first teasingly, then he started to suck it avidly, almost with desperation, he wanted to devour the other man wholly. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he shivered as he felt Goku moaning into his mouth. He pulled slightly apart to whisper with a voice full of passion: “I love you, Kakarot.”

Goku froze at those words as the cruel reality reached that peaceful but fake backwater he had secluded himself in during the last minutes, slapping him hard in the face, and remorse crushed him under its unbearable weight. His tail hung limpid behind him as he disentangled himself from the prince’s sweet embrace. And when Vegeta tried to kiss him again, Goku threw his head back and placed the palm of his hand on Vegeta’s mouth.

“I… just can’t Vegeta. You make me feel so guilty…” The older saiyan frowned, looking worriedly at Goku who just stared down, not daring to confront Vegeta’s hurt gaze.

“Kakarot…” Goku’s head snapped up at the slight tinge of resentment, subtly veiled under the pleading tone of Vegeta’s voice.

“I think I don’t feel the same for you, I would have the sensation to be taking advantage of you; I am so empty, I‘ve got nothing to give. I would only be a dead weigh, a burden.” The words came out abruptly as Goku’s anxiousness increased.

“Shhh…just take what you want, I’ve got enough for the two of us, let me fill the void in your heart with my love. I can heal you, Kakarot, just let me try.”

And hungry, desperate lips collided with hesitant ones, pressing urgently, demandingly, to get a response. A probing tongue darted out from his moist cavity passing through half parted lips, running over a row of stubbornly clamped teeth, but its perseverance had its reward and entrance was finally granted. Vegeta couldn’t refrain from moaning in sheer delight relishing in the hotness and the intoxicating flavor he found there; the man oozed exquisite nectar.

Vegeta had fantasized so many times about this moment, wondering how it would be to taste the younger saiyan, but this surpassed his most delirious, blissful dreams. Suddenly he felt his clothes more constraining than usual, and his skin burning, and his head spinning. And all he could do was to worship that delicious mouth. For interminable moments, tongues twined, slid over each other, in a restless and frenzied dance of wet caresses. Vegeta, groaning, placed a hand on the back of Goku’s neck to pull him closer to deepen the kiss, which became more heated with every passing minute.

Vegeta pressed even more if possible his body tightly against Goku’s hard one, feeling how the man was kissing back as passionately as himself. But in the belief that the younger saiyan was enjoying as much as himself, Vegeta was totally unaware of Goku’s inner turmoil.

Goku, at first, had been overwhelmed by lust. It felt so good that he simply had relaxed and started to participate more and more enthusiastically as pleasure coursed through his veins like some kind of drug, making him go numb, killing all his pains.

But after a while something else started to build up within, something born in the pitch of his stomach, making him lurch: a bitter, devastating rage, consuming him, storming through his body like a dark, accusing angel of vengeance looking for retribution. His son’s corpse was still warm and he was enjoying a sinful pleasure instead of mourning for the loss.

And all that fury born from his sense of culpability engulfed him until he exploded. Tensing his body, he pushed brusquely Vegeta apart from him and the prince landed roughly on his rump, with a shocked expression on his face.

His heart skipped a few beats as he took notice of Goku’s serious and angry countenance. The younger saiyan was gritting his teeth and curling his fingers into fists, digging his nails so forcefully into his palms that blood started to ooze in rivulets.

“No, I don’t want to be healed I don’t want to stop feeling this pain, just leave me alone, Vegeta!“ The elder saiyan rose to his feet and his gaze was so full of sadness that Goku could not help the regretful sigh that escaped from his dry lips, and, much calmer, stated with a tired voice: “Please, try to understand me, Vegeta. I need the pain to honor my Gohan’s memory, without this pain I’d feel like betraying my son. I’ve got no right to be happy.” He closed his eyes, feeling them well up again but not wanting to shed more tears.

The prince stepped forward bringing a hand to Goku’s hair, but before he could touch him, the younger saiyan grabbed Vegeta’s wrist, shaking his head in negation.

“I have to take the dead body of my son to his mother.” And without looking back he blasted off into the sky and flew back to the battlefield. Vegeta watched sadly as Goku became just a tiny speck in the horizon.

 

 

TBC