Unwanted: His Memory

Unwanted


Chapter 5 - His Memory


"Calm yourself, you are in no danger," Vegeta tried to pacify the woman as she tossed and turned in her discontented state of unconsciousness. He had been jarred from his restless wedding night of solitude, by the sound of a female voice calling for his deceased brother. He had not hesitated rushing from his room to determine why such a wretched call would have been made. Half out of his mind, he had thought it was a dream when he saw her angelic form in an almost translucent gown, barefoot and crying like a lost child. By the time he had reached her to ask what had brought her to such a state, she had fainted.


Desiring the utmost discretion, he had carried her back to his chambers and laid her gently upon his bed, hoping she would quickly awaken to explain her erratic actions. But she did not have to awaken for his enlightenment; her insensible mumblings were enough to prove the most obvious of causes.


"No, Vegeta, I-Oh god, I am too young..." she twisted her head aimlessly back and forth. He had to restrain her arms to prevent them from flailing. "Please, Vegeta, I can not..."


He recalled those words all too vividly to know she was not simply rambling aloud some nightmare; she was reliving a real one, one he had forced upon her, one he would never forgive himself for.

~*~

"Vegeta," her breaths were labored, her heart was racing. He could feel her passions flowing over the tip of his sex. He knew she was ready for him. "I have to have you," it was the only thought that instigated his next move, his fatal move, one that would only make sense to him at that very moment. "By the cursed gods, I need you." Believing foreplay would have been enough was a mistake; he should have known he could not end it there. He had touched heaven, for all the manipulation it took, for all the complaining he had to suffer through; he had dealt with it to have this woman, this heaven, at least the only heaven he would ever have a chance to touch. She was warm, safe, innocent. She was everything he was not. A part of him had always admired her for it, wanted her for it, to claim a part of it, and he did; at that moment, he had to.


She screamed, it was ear piercing. Anyone in earshot would have thought he was beating the poor girl. Perhaps this was worse. "The pain will ease, just lay still." He held her tightly again, focusing all his willpower to remain motionless. Not an ungodly task considering how fucking tight she was around his erupting hardness. Never, never, had it felt like this.


"Vegeta?" she cried his name between tears, her virginal mind no doubt too naïve for the truth to register immediately. But the moment it did, he knew she would want an explanation. She would want to understand how he could have taken what he promised not to. He could offer her no answer to that, not yet at least. He could do nothing but hold onto her, and will that she would one day understand. But that one day would not be tonight, her crestfallen question proved as much, "You took my virginity, didn't you?" The fact that she had to ask made him shudder violently. This had to be the most wicked and violating act he had ever taken against another living being. He had taken this poor girl's maidenhood, a girl who trusted him as a friend. The repercussions would, no doubt, be life lasting, but he could not think long term right now. He had to ease her suffering, bringing her, them, the pleasure he had promised.


"Shhhh," he ran his fingers over her pale face, wiping her tears away, "Move with me, forget the pain, welcome the pleasure." When she remained limp beneath him as he began a few slow experimental strokes, he feared his penetration had soured her too deeply to believing anything he had said, but after what felt like an eternity, she proved him wrong. Slowly, tentatively, she raised her hips and gradually began working up a tempo that met his movements.


The moment her head flew back, closing her eyes, biting her lips, refusing to let him hear her enjoyment, he clenched he eyes shut, realizing it was probably better she hid her reaction. He was so far beyond the point of no return, he feared he would release before her, but he had to wait, he simply willed his body against taking from her more than he already had. He needed to feel her release first, he owed it to her.


She cried out wordlessly into the night, he felt her body spasm around him, and he lost whatever self-control he had left. Too late to pull out of her, he spilled his seed deep into her womb before collapsing on top of her.


Tears, they were the first image he saw as he opened his eyes to stare into those devastated blue orbs. She curled her legs into her chest, her maiden blood painfully visible to him because of her shift in body position. He had broken her. He had never meant to go so far, he had never meant to do anything more than what she wanted, begged of him, but as always, he had been selfish. So absorbed in his own need he failed to give a damn about hers, he failed to keep his promise to her.


What the hell had he been thinking?! Why had he pursued a virgin when he could have had any number of willing streetwalkers, married or widowed women without a single worry of hurt feelings or a danger to his life of solitude? His solitude, was that all he could worry about at that moment? He had seduced, lied, and manipulated to get her into his bed. She was merely sixteen and he had ruined her.


He did not know what to say as he lay next to her, watching her back convulse every time a sob wracked her body. What did he do? How could he make this right? He could not, he knew that, but he did have an obligation to her, one that entailed at the very least help to ease the physical damage he had done to her. Rising from the bed, he walked into his washroom and ran a warm bath for her.


"Bulma," he lifted her in his arms, "It will help ease your soreness." The words no doubt sounded hollow coming from the man who had caused her pain. Gently depositing her into the water, which had not been easy with her pounding her fists against any part of him that she could make contact with, he turned his back to the tub as he sunk down to the floor. Not having the strength to look at her, he whispered three words he had never used before, "I am sorry."


He heard the water shift as she most likely positioned herself comfortably in the warmth. As much as she hated his aid, even her pride could not have ignored the ease the liquid must have offered her. "I-" he was at a loss for words as his head fell into his hands. What could he say? There was no justification for his actions, no excuse plausible; he had lost control, plain and simple; and now he had to pay for it. "I will marry you, of course," a not altogether terrible arrangement for her, considering she would most likely be widowed in less than a year or so. The life expectancy of a man fighting as ceaselessly as he was only a matter of months at best, but he knew that was not the type of reassurance she needed to hear. "You can remain here; you would merely take my title. With the war, I can not yet offer you much more, but-"


"I will not marry you," she spoke barely above a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear.


"You have to," he sounded no more thrilled than she, "Besides the fact that you no longer have your virginity intact, there is a possibility, granted a small one, but possible nonetheless that you are with child. I will not allow my heir to be born a bastard."


"You did not mean anything you said, did you?" it was more of a realization than a question, "So foolish." He heard her scold herself under her breath. A pained chuckle followed it. "I guess you are amused by all this. I just let you take advantage of my stupidity."


"You think I planned this?" He turned around to glare at her. She would not look at him. "I lost control. Do you honestly think that is something I find amusement in?"


"Only because now you think it will land you in an undesirable union." Her accusation stung, but mostly because it was partially true.


"Well, do not worry about it." She pushed herself up from under the water and stepped out of the tub. Following her back into the bedroom, Vegeta frowned as he watched her begin pulling her gown back on. When she finally finished dressing, she walked as gracefully as she could over to the exit, holding her head high, her blatant display of pride welled something haunting within him, something akin to shame.


"I will never marry you, Vegeta. You may have taken my virginity, but you will not have my only chance at happiness as well. One day I will find a man who loves me, who will not play mind games with me, not humiliate me or use me as his evening entertainment. When I find that man, Vegeta, it is he, and only he I will marry. While you," she twisted her head back slightly towards him, though not enough to make eye contact, "if I never see you again, it would still be too soon." She twisted the doorknob and attempted to leave, but he stopped her with a pertinent question.


"And what if you are with child?" He was not going to allow her to walk away with his heir, no matter how it was conceived.


Not turning around, she gave him a threatening response that would haunt him every day since to come, "I do not know. Perhaps I would terminate its life, perhaps I would give it to a family in want of a child, or perhaps I would keep it. I have any number of solutions, Vegeta, none of which would include marrying you or allowing you to sink your claws into an innocent child. So you need not worry, I can assure you there will be no child. At least not one you will ever lay eyes on."


She turned away from him, allowing him one last glimpse of her that would have to last for five years, before slamming the door shut behind her.

~*~

Twisting his head towards the door, the sound had been so real, for a moment he believed someone had invaded his chambers, but no. He and Bulma were the only ones present. His eyes fell upon her perspiring figure. Though her distress was now less violent, it was still highly prevalent in her pained features.


"I wish it did not have to be like this," he whispered honestly as he removed a few sweaty strands from across her flushed face. The gesture seemed to calm her trembling as she twisted her cheek towards his palm, sighing as she did so.


"Kakarrot."


Of course, she had mistaken his affection as that of his brother, the man she was more accustomed to turning to for comfort, the man she truly wanted. If only he had survived this final battle, damn it! Kakarrot should have be the one to marry her, ensuring a proper alliance with the Tomabatsu and making her as happy as she deserved to be, not himself, not a man she hated.


"...if I never see you again, it would still be too soon."


Harsh words, though they were no less than what he deserved. He had wronged her, and of course warranted her scorn, but never had he expected the depths it would plummet within such an innocent.


"I do not know. Perhaps I would terminate its life, perhaps I would give it to a family in want of a child, or perhaps I would keep it. I have any number of solutions, Vegeta, none of which would include marrying you or allowing you to sink your claws into an innocent child. So you need not worry, I can assure you there will be no child. At least not one you will ever lay eyes on."


Her last words had troubled him ever since. In granting his absence from her, he ensured her promise. He had no knowledge of whether or not he had sired a child as a result of that night. Though he suspected he had not, since Kakarrot visited her regularly, and would have surely reported such disturbing information to him, he had always wondered if... His eyes lowered to her flat stomach, her hand was lightly resting atop it as she breathed in and out heavily. The temptation to lift up her dress, to check her body for any signs of birthing, tempted his curiosity. To know once and for all if she had done as she promised, kept his child from him. But he could not allow himself to touch her so invasively, never again.


Her eyes fluttered, and then shot open, her body jolting up straight as she observed her surroundings and then her company. Grabbing the coverings wrinkled beneath her, Bulma flung them over herself as she scooted to the far end of his bed, "What's going on?"


"You collapsed, and rather than making a scene carrying you back to your chambers, I brought you here. I assure you, I had no other intentions in doing so than to protect your reputation." And his, the last thing he needed was rumors surfacing that on their wedding night his bride was racing through the halls calling for his dead brother. "You need not fear me," he advised after noticing the tightness in which she protected herself with his blanket.


"I do not fear you," she snapped much too sensitively as she twisted away from him, swinging her legs from under the covering, and rising to her feet, "I just do not trust you." She dashed towards the door, clearly wanting to escape the situation with as little emotional damage as possible. Unfortunately, he could not allow her to, not until he knew.


"Did you have my child?" His question stopped her dead in her tracks, her back so stiff he feared she might snap.


Turning slowly back around to face him, she lowly challenged, "You have no right to ask me such a question." She looked ready to slap him, but she clenched her fists, keeping them to her sides.


"Perhaps," he concurred without doubt. "But I did, and I would now like an answer."


"For what purpose?"


Her defensiveness set him on edge. Does this mean there is something for her to hide? Is that why she is so adamant about refusing to tell him? Or is this merely further proof that she is no closer to forgiving him than she had been the night of his trespass? "I would like to know if I have a son."


"A son?" she snorted terribly unladylike, "Only a son? If it were a daughter, would you be uninterested, Vegeta?" It was an awakening slap. A daughter? The thought had never occurred to him. For some reason, whenever he thought of the possibility of her belly swelling with his child, the aura he always sensed was that of a boy. It simply felt right, but before he could defend himself, she crossed her arms and started in with another set of insults, "And even if I had a child, why would you be interested? Surely by now you have sired dozens of bastards. Why not go bother one of them?"


His knuckles contracted, at the very least, on this point he would defend himself, "I have no 'bastards.' I had never spilled my seed inside a woman before I was with you. A man of my stature can not afford to leave any loose ends untied."


"Oh, how responsible of you," she cooed, the picture of sarcasm, "And how flattering it is to know that you chose me to be the first recipient of your royal seed." She deadpanned the last two words, proving she meant every bit the opposite of what she was saying.


"That is not what I meant, and you damn well know it!" he slashed his arm through the air, proving his point with a somewhat violent gesture. Restraining the urge to grasp her arms, he forced her to look him in the eyes as he reaffirmed, "I never meant to take you that night."


"And that makes it all better?" Her tone was uneven as her eyes began to water. Quickly he realized it was because she was suppressing tears. "You took what you had no right to take from me!"


"I did not take everything," he calmed his voice as he evened his stare. "You gave some, a lot in fact." He caught her wrist before her hand could come down across his cheek. Perhaps he deserved to be struck, but not because she insisted upon only looking at the most disgraceful moment of his actions. "You enjoyed, perhaps not all of what we shared, but enough of it. I know I did not imagine your whimpering beneath me, or crying my name in pleasure." She fought against his hold, clearly wanting to complete her assault, but she was not going to, not until she remembered. "It was not all bad." He used the back of his free hand to cautiously caress her face. He expected her to flinch away, but she did not, her eyes merely followed the path of his hand.


"You did not give me a choice," she switched her gaze from his hand to his eyes. "You took advantage of me." She placed her palm over his and threw the entire limb away. "Do not think you will ever have such luxury again." She turned to leave, but he could not let her, not until she understood.


"I did not lie about everything I told you that night." He stopped so close behind her that if he were to take a deep breath, his chest would have brushed against her back. "I needed you that night, not your body, but your essence. You trusted me, I dare say even cared about me then. You were the only woman who was not afraid of me. When you walked into my chambers that night, in your angelic gown, barefoot with your hair flowing wildly down your shoulders, just as you are tonight, you looked so innocent, so pure. I had to have it, I had to have you." He was rambling, surely she could not understand his feelings that night, hell, he barely could, but he had to try. "For the longest time I never understood what had made me so irrational, made me act so cowardly, but seeing you again, I can feel it." He did not know how to describe the pull, the urge to touch her, to lay her on his bed and show her how gentle a man could be, how undemanding, how selfless he had the ability to be with her, but he did not trust himself to do so. He had lost control once; he could so easily do it again. "Something draws me to you, Bulma. I failed to resist it that night, and damn it, I apologized for hurting you but," her head turned ever so slightly. She was either terribly interested in what he is saying, or she wanted to see a glimmer of his expression to assess whether he is being honest or not, perhaps both. "But I cannot regret laying with you."


His comment lingered in the air for what seemed like hours, her face turning back away from his as she looked downward, no doubt unsure of how to reply. But that would not stop her from dropping the most simplistic, yet encumbered responses he could have anticipated. "Well, then, that makes one of us." She turned back to face him, her eyes a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow, the latter of which seemed to be winning out as she looked past him, her mind clearly drifting to another place. "Do you know what I have always regretted most about that night?" The question was clearly rhetorical, so he did not reply. "I regret that I betrayed your brother." Her hand found its way to her heart as she swallowed a lump in her throat.


"For as much as I hate what you did, I can never forgive myself for-" She paused, a ridiculous smile forming on her lips as her train of thought suddenly changed. "Did you know I had a crush on you then?" she did not allow him enough time to respond, not that he would have been able to; he had thought her interests were always occupied by his brother. Of course, this did help to explain why she had been so willing at first, it was not simply his expert skills in taming the opposite sex as he had originally assumed. "It was a youthful sentiment, of course. Naïve little girls are frequently drawn to the darkness in a man, and you had that in spades, but not Kakarrot. He was the good one, the sweet one, my best friend, but I knew he wanted more." Her hand rose to wipe a few stray tears from her eyes; he suddenly realized where she was going with this remembrance. "I should have never gone to you, I should have never agreed to anything that night, but I did, because I was selfish and curious and I never once considered what it would do to him if he found out that I had done anything with his own brother."


The disgust in her voice bruised the Saiya-jin's typically impenetrable ego, but he bore the force of it. If she needed to vent what he was sure she had pent up for years, he would not interrupt her. "The first time he asked me to marry him was barely a year later. Did he ever tell you that? He finally found the courage to admit what I already knew, what I had chosen to ignore. I turned him down then, because I was too afraid. I broke his heart because I was too afraid of our wedding night, of the moment he found out that while he had waited for me, I had not been so faithful." Vegeta opened his mouth to object, but she did not allow him the chance, "No, do not tell me I can placed all the blame on you, because I cannot. You said it yourself, you did not take everything. I should have never been in your room that night, I should have never agreed to let you touch me, taste me, lay with me as you had. I know I was young, and foolish, but my body was not, it responded to yours in a way I have never experience with Kakarrot. And I was too ashamed to tell him."


Her tears came on too strong this time, dropping her face into her palms her body convulsed. Gods, what had he done to her? He had taken an innocent and made her feel a wanton. He had to dissuade her, he had to set her frame of mind right, but she again silenced him. It seemed she wanted him to hear her out completely; perhaps she simply needed to liberate her conscience to someone. After all, whom else could she tell? "When he asked again, just a few short months ago, I could not say no, but ironically it was for the same reason as I had turned him down the first time, I was selfish. I wanted him as my husband, and I was willing to damn the consequences, the pain he would inevitably face when he learned the truth. I never told him..." Her breathing hitched, she should not have tried to speak again. She finally found herself unable to offer anymore.


He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her as he had once she learned of her love's death. But again, he could not; he was the enemy, the one who ruined her life, who took from her what she had destined for another, his own brother. He had realized quickly over the years that she had never spoken to his sibling of what happened between them, the fact that he was still alive a testament to that very truth. But he had not assumed her silence was for the reasons she claimed, a less passionate and more needy coupling that she had designed for the remainder of her life. How terribly monotonous. "I seduced you, Bulma. There was a mutual lust between us, and I took advantage of it. You have no reason to scold yourself as you are doing."


"Do you not get it? That is exactly my point!" She spun away from him and began pacing back and forth to try and clear her thoughts. It did not seem to help. "That lust should not have been there! I should have only wanted Kakarrot, it was wrong of me to-"


"To desire me?" he snapped argumentatively, "Why? You were not married to my brother at the time, not engaged; as far as I am aware, he was not even courting you then. You are acting like an adulterous wife when you are in truth far from it. You were an innocent that I led astray. Let us not start confusing the facts of that evening." She needed to be spoken bluntly to or else she would continue to wallow in this improper sense of self-loathing. "I told you a pack of lies to get you into my bed," he grasped her shoulders, stopping her pacing so there could be no doubt she heard him clearly. "I was in the wrong, Bulma, not you."


Perhaps he had been too blunt, because she began weeping again, her face falling into her hands once more as she shook her head in disagreement. "I responded to you, I moved with you. You may not have given me a choice in taking me, but I had a choice in fighting you and I did not, I just let you have me." She never once lifted her head as she spoke; it was probably for the best since he would not have been able to face her if she did. "You humiliated me and that was worse than any violation."


So that had been it, all these years he had believed her tears after they completed there coupling had been because of what he had taken from her, but instead what had shaken her foundation was what he had given to her, knowledge. He proved she was just as vulnerable to carnal pleasures of the flesh as any other being, and the fact that she felt such things for him, the embodiment of everything she knew was evil and impure in the world, the complete opposite of the man she truly wanted, his precious brother, she had felt disgraced. "If that is true, than I suffered the greater humiliation that night, because I lost all control when I laid with you; I felt things for a woman I had never felt before."


"Do not lie to me, again!" she spat venomously as she swung away from him, her distress giving way to anger.


"I am not lying, damn it! I asked you to marry me, did I not? I intended to do right by you, but you never allotted me the opportunity." Rightfully so, of course, but a fact was still a fact. He would have married her the next day if she had agreed to it.


"Obligation and desire are two completely different sentiments, Vegeta. Wedlock for the two of us five years ago would have been misery. I thank the gods every day that I had enough sense to leave you and never look back."


"And what about now?" he took a step closer to her, wanting to know her true feelings now that she had wed him, now that there was no turning back. "Will our marriage now be misery?"


She carefully lifted her eyes to lock with his, and after what felt like hours of thought, she responded somberly, "I always wanted to marry a man I loved, a man who loved me. I wanted trust from my companion in life, affection, respect and happiness. I do not foresee any of that with you, only loneliness, regret and bitterness. However, we can do little about it other than to try and cohabitate with some sort of tranquility. I am your wife in name only, so I see no reason we need to encounter one another more than a few times a year, perhaps it will not be too terrible."


He wanted to laugh. What a resounding vote of approval! So that is why she agreed without a vigorous fight. She believed their union would be completely effortless in nature, a few appearances together, some mild banter, and then solitude for the remainder of their separate lives. He should have been pleased, her expectations were low, and therefore marital tribulations should be few in number. But his mind seemed unable to move past her disappointment, her desire for genuine companionship and love in wedlock. Perhaps he was unable to offer the latter, but even he in his most bleak hours found himself in want of company, of a confidant whom he could trust, respect, and yes, even find some common fondness with. But with Bulma? Could such closeness ever develop between them? He estimated the odds were against them, but he could not help but wonder about that small chance. "Why were you willing to simply take my word the evening I advised you of our need to marry? I would have signed any document with any stipulations you chose. You believe that, do you not?"


He had hoped her refusal was not out of mistrust of his sincerity, but after their previous encounter, he could not be too optimistic. "I believed your word." A simple yet highly complex assessment she minimized with a slight shrug. "You are different now, I saw it in your eyes at dinner that night and I see it again now." For the first time since he had encountered her after these long five years, her features softened, finally looking upon him without distress, disappointment, trepidation or sorrow. She simply looked at him. "Kakarrot adamantly insisted that you changed in recent years, for obvious reasons I chose to reject his assessment, but I see now that I was wrong to." For a moment her hand reached up, as if she wished to touch his face, but instead she snapped it back before allowing herself the chance. "Your eyes are not numb anymore. When you lied to me, there was never any emotion behind them, but now... Now I can see."


Though it irked him that he was no longer as expert in hiding his emotions as he had been in years past, he felt some comfort in knowing that she felt more confident in reading his true intentions. Such a skill would go a long way in learning to trust one another. "You had better be careful, my lady. I may just start to think you are on the verge of forgiving me."


All the softness that had adorned her face suddenly disappeared, and a soured frown lowered upon her lips, "Do not mistake my attempted cordiality as some sort of budding friendship between the two of us. Out of respect for your brother and the millions who would be affected by a war between our peoples, I am trying to find some level of reconciliation by being honest with one another. The sooner we can put the past behind us, the easier it will be to handle seeing each other."


A cold bucket of water dumped on his head could not have been more startling. "I see," it was all he could gasp out. At least he would not have any misconceptions about their feelings towards one another. "It is late; I will escort you back to your chambers." Splitting her lips, for a moment he thought she would object to his accompanying her, but she clamped them shut after he preempted her disagreement with a warning glare.


Gliding his hand down the center of her back, he flatted his palm over the base her spine as he directed her out of the room. "I know the way to my chambers," she quickened her step to pull away from his touch. He should have been more conscious of his actions around her.


"Of course you do," he followed several steps behind, unable to avoid transfixing his stare upon the womanly sway of her hips. She had aged so much in these last five years; the girl was now without a doubt a woman, a very fetching one at that. She should be thanking him that he was taking her off the marriage block without having to face a sea of improper suitors, suitors like himself.


Almost walking into his guide, he found himself outside his wife's door, with Bulma ready to bid him a long overdue goodnight. "Well, I safely managed to cross the castle corridors, so if you do not mind-"


"Where is your ring?" He grasped her left hand as she had been casually flailing it in the air to direct him back to his chambers. "Why are you not wearing it?"


"It was too tight," she offered a clipped response as she pulled her hand back. "So I thought I would give my finger a chance to breath-hey, no, stop!" He had tuned her justification out after her pathetic excuse about it not fitting properly. He had the best jewelers brandish the ring; the chance of the manufacturing being faulty was very slim.


Pushing open the door to her chambers, he had brushed past her demands for him to halt, determined to find what she had done with his token. He found so much more. "You did this?" His voice was menacing as he assessed the room. He would have thought the chamber had been thieved, except nothing was missing, everything was simply in disarray, including two objects that became the focus of his attention, her wedding dress and ring. Leaning down, he ran the tattered garment through his fingers and then slid his pinky finger into the ring before rising to his feet and slowly approaching her. Grabbing her left hand, he placed the ring back on her finger, ignoring her irate complaints that he was being too rough. "Never take this off again!"


He had half a mind to throw her over his shoulder and storm her back to his room to punish her for her disrespect in a most beneficial manner to him. But he had to control his temper, reminding himself that she was still grieving and obviously not altogether thinking clearly. "I will do whatever the hell I want to, and if that means taking that joke of a wedding band off while I am in the privacy of my own room, I will damn well do so!" she spat as she pulled her hand back, nursing it as if he had seriously injured her, "Now get the hell out."


"Fine," he would allow her this small victory, but not without a word to the wise, "But allow me to give you fair warning, my lady. Just so there are no misconceptions between us, I vowed to respect your body and grant you liberties unlike most sane husbands would, but do not for one second think that I am giving you carte blanche to wreak havoc on my life. Throwing tantrums like this whenever you are feeling particularly sympathetic for yourself is unfucking acceptable! You are my wife, and I will have you respect me in both public and private; so unless you wish me to change my mind in regards to my demands of you as a wife, I would get over my bitterness fast, and accept our fate."


He then did as she asked, turning to leave, but not before hearing what was quickly becoming the final word on every one of their arguments. "I hate you." As always, he did not respond, and simply continued on his way, hearing the click of what was no doubt her wedding ring being pummeled at the door after he had closed it.


Spinning around to rest the back of his head against the very same door, he closed his eyes, fully recognizing the omen, "This is going to be a long marriage."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"How are you feeling?" The young female asked once she finished changing her patient's bandages.


"Stronger," the gradually healing man slowly opened and clenched his fists, testing his building strength. "Thanks to you, Chi-Chi," he grasped her soft hand and pulled it to his lips, "You saved my life."


The raven-haired woman blushed a dark crimson as she pulled her hand away, "My father saved you. He was the one who fished you out of the river. I merely have tended your wounds, which, if I may say, are finally beginning to heal nicely. You had us worried for some time."


"Right," he nodded somberly, touching the swollen spots on around his head and then finally resting his palm over his chest, where he had taken what was presumed to be a serious sword injury.


"You still remember nothing?" his female companion asked quietly, her sympathy greatly evident in her voice.


Shaking his head, he sighed disappointedly, "No. All I know is what we have surmised. Judging by the crest on my broken armor, I was a member of the Vegetabatsu army. Since your father claims a massive battle with that legion took place the day before he found me, I must have fought in it, which explains how I ended up looking like hell, but not who I am." Frustration overpowering him, he rested his head gently in his palm. "Perhaps I was no one of importance. Perhaps that is why no one has come to look for me. I am sure many a foot soldier died that day, I was likely one more."


"No, do not say such hopeless things!" Chi-Chi objected as she lifted his face to gaze into hers. "You must have someone out there missing you, or else why would you have been carrying this?" She leaned over to the nightstand, pulling out a dirtied lock of blue hair. Handing it to him, she pointed out, "My father said you were clinging to it with all the strength left in your body when he found you. If it was that important to you, then the woman who gave you that lock of hair must be someone missing you terribly."


With a lopsided smile, he clasped the braid and allowed himself a moment to examine it. "I do not know, Chi. I just can't remember." He handed the strand back to her to place on the table. "Lying back in his bed, he closed his eyes as he tried to recall anything before he had awakened in the care of these kind villagers. But as with every other attempt, he came up blank, "Nothing, not even a damn name!"


"Well, then we will simply have to give you one in the mean time." Chi-Chi always tried to look on the bright side, a characteristic her charge was beginning to find more and more endearing by the day. "Hmmm," she allowed herself a few moments to consider what would suit the man best. After a breath of time she clapped her hands together in excitement. "I've got it," her smile widened as she bobbed her head in satisfaction. "Until we learn your true name, how about we call you Goku? I have always loved that name and I think it would suit you well. What do you think?"


"Goku?" he repeated, the name sounding a little strange to him at first. Then after allowing it a moment to process through his mind, he nodded his head, a smile mimicking that of the woman who had suggested it, "Goku. Yes, I like it. I like it a lot."


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