Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's
property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making
any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give
you my textbooks, and my old, crappy DDR pads. ^_^
'………' Thought.
"………" Spoken.
Bulma gazed happily into Yamcha's cloudy eyes; she was as happy as she'd ever been, and frankly, as happy as she ever thought she would be in her entire life. Something was different that night, but that little teal- haired woman couldn't quite place it. Not yet. He seemed distant; perhaps too distant. But it was too soon to tell.
She quickly tossed away any doubt she had at the moment, and bid him goodnight. After a lingering kiss, she gave him a tired smile, and retreated into the depths of the living quarters of Capsule Corps.
Meanwhile, Vegeta sat on the roof above the lovers, pondering the pitiful human's existence. He knew what Yamcha was doing behind Bulma's back, and even though he despised the woman with every bit of his soul, that wasn't right to do to ANY female, not even this pathetic excuse for one.
He thought about what exactly made her so pathetic to him. First of all, was the ardent temper that she bore; Vegeta had no earthly idea of where she inherited it from, as her mother was a complete moron, and her father quiet, and docile. Bulma was none of these things. Her temper actually rivaled his own, which seemed to bother the already troubled Saiya-jin prince. Another thing that disturbed him was this whole 'relationship' deal she had going with Yamcha. A lowly human. "Hell," he thought to himself, "Krillin is stronger than he is. THAT, is most certainly saying something degrading of him.."
As Vegeta stood, he shook all thoughts of the ridiculous human female, and turned to glance at his own stomach, which emitted soft rumblings, letting him know he'd waited much too long for food. He smirked to himself, and lowered himself from the roof, and straight through the back door.
"Stupid Kakarott, always having to be stronger than his prince… Son of a bitch," Vegeta was more than irritated at that idiot Gokou's recent show of power, and that violet haired boy. Vegeta just couldn't let go of that. The boy's ki had seemed oddly familiar, but the Saiya-jin couldn't near placing it. He contemplated this for a moment, before chucking those thoughts out of his head as well, but not before running straight into Bulma as he turned into the Brief's kitchen.
The sheer force of him merely bumping into her had knocked her over, and he found her screaming obscenities left and right at him, but all he could do was frown at her for a moment, step over the peculiar little woman, and head straight for the refrigerator.
"WHY YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THAT TO ME! YOU BAKA! VEGETA! I'M TALKING TO YOU..YOU..YOU..MORON! STUPID ARROGANT PRINCE! GET BACK HERE. I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET! I'LL KILL YOU!!!" Bulma had finally found the nerve to stand, and had surprised herself in standing up to Vegeta like that; hell, barley anyone would've, aside from Gokou, but he was the only being stronger than Vegeta anyway, so of course he wouldn't have reason to be afraid of him. But Bulma, on the other hand, didn't even know how fly or control her ki, none the less harness and throw a ball of the stuff.
Vegeta had finished his raid on the refrigerator, and was holding plates upon plates of left-overs, a loaf of bread, and other miscellaneous food items that he found remotely edible. Some even tasted.. what was the human word.. decent? He shoved right by the enraged Briefs woman, and upon arriving at the base of the stairs, turned to her, and turned up the side of his mouth, letting that trademark smirk of his shine through.
"I'd like to see you try, woman," was all that escaped from his lips. Still smirking, and almost chuckling to himself, he made his way up the stairs to his quarters, leaving a dumbfounded Bulma in his wake.
Vegeta sat on the edge of his bed, shoving anything to eat that he got his hands on into his mouth, but being amazingly tidy about it. As he finished the last of what he'd brought up with him, he moved to the window that was nestled against his bed.
As he sat there and gazed out, he let loose an almost painful sigh, sometimes wishing Kakarott had left him dead. Always wishing Freiza wouldn't have destroyed his home planet. By now, he would have surely been crowned king. King of the most powerful empire anyone would've seen, would've known. King of what was rightfully his. But now, he was a mere prince, and of what? One full breed, and a nine year old demi Saiya-jin. This, he thought, was absurd, and nothing to take pride in. There was nothing left for him to take satisfaction in.. nothing.
The prince had finally figured out where Vegeta-sei would have been if it were still in space, and he sighed, gazing up towards the non-existent planet.
Inwardly, he scolded himself. This was yet another show of weakness. Another show of reason why he hadn't achieved his destiny. Of why he wasn't among the legendary Super Saiya-jins. Longing for something that wasn't even there. He was longing for a people who no longer survived. One more sigh came and went like a summer shower, but the prince refused to surrender himself to something as low as a tear.
Furious at himself, furious at the world for what they'd done to him, he cried out in despair, in anger, in hopelessness. "DAMNIT," Vegeta threw a punch at the window, shattering it, glass skirting across his soft knuckles. He cursed himself for always wearing gloves, which in turn made his hands sensitive, and the skin soft to the touch. Crimson had engulfed his right hand, and he swore at himself again for being so naive.
He stepped into his bathroom, his own private bathroom. Thank Kami-sama that they Briefs family had the sense to give him this much privacy. There may have been some.. rash and unintended causalities involved if they'd not given him this right to privacy.
Cleansing his scored hand in the cool water running from the tap, he stared blankly at the ruby colored water, which trickled down the drain. He mused with the thought of it leaving a scar, and grimaced. He had not one scar over the length of his short, well-muscled body. The prince shrugged, not really caring. No woman, or man, for that matter would ever lay eyes over him in such a way. He took no pride in scars, thinking that if he had any, they would be subtle reminders of battles lost, and hits against him that could have well been prevented.
Vegeta slipped his armor off of his head, skimming over the extremity of it; holes, and burnt spots harking back recollections of his death at Freiza's hand. Vibrations racked through his frame; it was a memory he hadn't wanted to recall. He let his bare fingers trail across the Royal Crest of the house of Vegeta-sei. Another remembrance of who he could've been, or what could've happened.
Letting the feather-light armor drop to the ground, he peeled off the snug- fitting fight suit shortly after he'd kicked off his boots; they hit his door with a rather strident thud. He reached over for a paid of pajama pants the silly earth woman had bought him, and pulled them on, rubbing his shoulders after; he was sore from the limits he was pushing himself to, to achieve this new level of strength that he so desperately desired.
A solitary eyebrow perked up as he thought he heard Yamcha's voice. "Hm… I thought he left hours ago," Vegeta's curiosity got the best of him, and he floated out of the already shattered window.
Yamcha had run into one of his many, MANY girlfriends outside of Capsule Corps. Front gates, and had taken way too long in speaking with her. She chattered on about what she wanted to do with him that Friday, how much she cared for him, and other things that he didn't really care about. What he did care about, however, was a very large, rapidly approaching power source that made the hair on the back of his neck stand.
"Vegeta.."
"…What? What the hell are you talking about, Yamcha?" The raven haired girl looked up at him with inquisitive eyes.
He shook his head absent-mindedly. He had no idea how fast Vegeta was actually coming towards him.
"Look, babe, I'd better go. It's getting late. Gomen." He leaned down, and kissed her just as he had kissed Bulma earlier that evening. Just as he was about to pull away, he felt something wrap around the collar of his shirt, and he shuddered.
Who ever the female he was with screamed bloody murder, and made even the Mighty Prince cringe.
"Shut up, woman. This has nothing to do with you," His words were short, and his tone didn't sound like he was out for a midnight stroll and wanted to talk with someone. Yamcha shuddered again. Vegeta looked back to him, and scowled. He didn't know why he was taking the stupid woman's side in this, and he wasn't thinking of the onyx haired one. "What in the hell are you doing, human? Why are you showing compassion to her?" As he finished his question, his voice was little more than a growl.
"I..uh.. I.. You see.."
"I know what you're doing, Yamcha," Vegeta tightened his hold on his collar. "No woman deserves this. NO woman. Not even that slut." He pointed to the girl, who looked on, utterly terrified. "Tell Bulma. Tomorrow. If you don't, I will, and trust me," that godforsaken smirk of his jumped across his well-defined face. "I can, and will, exaggerate at my own will."
Yamcha gulped, and nodded. He well knew that the prince could kill him at any time he wished, even though he was supposed to have changed, no one really knew for sure.
Vegeta let the terrified man go, satisfied by the look of sheer terror that had invaded the bored, careless expression that had been there not five minutes before.
With that, the prince returned to his room, and laid on his bed, slipping into the same ritual of sleepless nightmares that invaded his soul.
'………' Thought.
"………" Spoken.
Bulma gazed happily into Yamcha's cloudy eyes; she was as happy as she'd ever been, and frankly, as happy as she ever thought she would be in her entire life. Something was different that night, but that little teal- haired woman couldn't quite place it. Not yet. He seemed distant; perhaps too distant. But it was too soon to tell.
She quickly tossed away any doubt she had at the moment, and bid him goodnight. After a lingering kiss, she gave him a tired smile, and retreated into the depths of the living quarters of Capsule Corps.
Meanwhile, Vegeta sat on the roof above the lovers, pondering the pitiful human's existence. He knew what Yamcha was doing behind Bulma's back, and even though he despised the woman with every bit of his soul, that wasn't right to do to ANY female, not even this pathetic excuse for one.
He thought about what exactly made her so pathetic to him. First of all, was the ardent temper that she bore; Vegeta had no earthly idea of where she inherited it from, as her mother was a complete moron, and her father quiet, and docile. Bulma was none of these things. Her temper actually rivaled his own, which seemed to bother the already troubled Saiya-jin prince. Another thing that disturbed him was this whole 'relationship' deal she had going with Yamcha. A lowly human. "Hell," he thought to himself, "Krillin is stronger than he is. THAT, is most certainly saying something degrading of him.."
As Vegeta stood, he shook all thoughts of the ridiculous human female, and turned to glance at his own stomach, which emitted soft rumblings, letting him know he'd waited much too long for food. He smirked to himself, and lowered himself from the roof, and straight through the back door.
"Stupid Kakarott, always having to be stronger than his prince… Son of a bitch," Vegeta was more than irritated at that idiot Gokou's recent show of power, and that violet haired boy. Vegeta just couldn't let go of that. The boy's ki had seemed oddly familiar, but the Saiya-jin couldn't near placing it. He contemplated this for a moment, before chucking those thoughts out of his head as well, but not before running straight into Bulma as he turned into the Brief's kitchen.
The sheer force of him merely bumping into her had knocked her over, and he found her screaming obscenities left and right at him, but all he could do was frown at her for a moment, step over the peculiar little woman, and head straight for the refrigerator.
"WHY YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THAT TO ME! YOU BAKA! VEGETA! I'M TALKING TO YOU..YOU..YOU..MORON! STUPID ARROGANT PRINCE! GET BACK HERE. I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET! I'LL KILL YOU!!!" Bulma had finally found the nerve to stand, and had surprised herself in standing up to Vegeta like that; hell, barley anyone would've, aside from Gokou, but he was the only being stronger than Vegeta anyway, so of course he wouldn't have reason to be afraid of him. But Bulma, on the other hand, didn't even know how fly or control her ki, none the less harness and throw a ball of the stuff.
Vegeta had finished his raid on the refrigerator, and was holding plates upon plates of left-overs, a loaf of bread, and other miscellaneous food items that he found remotely edible. Some even tasted.. what was the human word.. decent? He shoved right by the enraged Briefs woman, and upon arriving at the base of the stairs, turned to her, and turned up the side of his mouth, letting that trademark smirk of his shine through.
"I'd like to see you try, woman," was all that escaped from his lips. Still smirking, and almost chuckling to himself, he made his way up the stairs to his quarters, leaving a dumbfounded Bulma in his wake.
Vegeta sat on the edge of his bed, shoving anything to eat that he got his hands on into his mouth, but being amazingly tidy about it. As he finished the last of what he'd brought up with him, he moved to the window that was nestled against his bed.
As he sat there and gazed out, he let loose an almost painful sigh, sometimes wishing Kakarott had left him dead. Always wishing Freiza wouldn't have destroyed his home planet. By now, he would have surely been crowned king. King of the most powerful empire anyone would've seen, would've known. King of what was rightfully his. But now, he was a mere prince, and of what? One full breed, and a nine year old demi Saiya-jin. This, he thought, was absurd, and nothing to take pride in. There was nothing left for him to take satisfaction in.. nothing.
The prince had finally figured out where Vegeta-sei would have been if it were still in space, and he sighed, gazing up towards the non-existent planet.
Inwardly, he scolded himself. This was yet another show of weakness. Another show of reason why he hadn't achieved his destiny. Of why he wasn't among the legendary Super Saiya-jins. Longing for something that wasn't even there. He was longing for a people who no longer survived. One more sigh came and went like a summer shower, but the prince refused to surrender himself to something as low as a tear.
Furious at himself, furious at the world for what they'd done to him, he cried out in despair, in anger, in hopelessness. "DAMNIT," Vegeta threw a punch at the window, shattering it, glass skirting across his soft knuckles. He cursed himself for always wearing gloves, which in turn made his hands sensitive, and the skin soft to the touch. Crimson had engulfed his right hand, and he swore at himself again for being so naive.
He stepped into his bathroom, his own private bathroom. Thank Kami-sama that they Briefs family had the sense to give him this much privacy. There may have been some.. rash and unintended causalities involved if they'd not given him this right to privacy.
Cleansing his scored hand in the cool water running from the tap, he stared blankly at the ruby colored water, which trickled down the drain. He mused with the thought of it leaving a scar, and grimaced. He had not one scar over the length of his short, well-muscled body. The prince shrugged, not really caring. No woman, or man, for that matter would ever lay eyes over him in such a way. He took no pride in scars, thinking that if he had any, they would be subtle reminders of battles lost, and hits against him that could have well been prevented.
Vegeta slipped his armor off of his head, skimming over the extremity of it; holes, and burnt spots harking back recollections of his death at Freiza's hand. Vibrations racked through his frame; it was a memory he hadn't wanted to recall. He let his bare fingers trail across the Royal Crest of the house of Vegeta-sei. Another remembrance of who he could've been, or what could've happened.
Letting the feather-light armor drop to the ground, he peeled off the snug- fitting fight suit shortly after he'd kicked off his boots; they hit his door with a rather strident thud. He reached over for a paid of pajama pants the silly earth woman had bought him, and pulled them on, rubbing his shoulders after; he was sore from the limits he was pushing himself to, to achieve this new level of strength that he so desperately desired.
A solitary eyebrow perked up as he thought he heard Yamcha's voice. "Hm… I thought he left hours ago," Vegeta's curiosity got the best of him, and he floated out of the already shattered window.
Yamcha had run into one of his many, MANY girlfriends outside of Capsule Corps. Front gates, and had taken way too long in speaking with her. She chattered on about what she wanted to do with him that Friday, how much she cared for him, and other things that he didn't really care about. What he did care about, however, was a very large, rapidly approaching power source that made the hair on the back of his neck stand.
"Vegeta.."
"…What? What the hell are you talking about, Yamcha?" The raven haired girl looked up at him with inquisitive eyes.
He shook his head absent-mindedly. He had no idea how fast Vegeta was actually coming towards him.
"Look, babe, I'd better go. It's getting late. Gomen." He leaned down, and kissed her just as he had kissed Bulma earlier that evening. Just as he was about to pull away, he felt something wrap around the collar of his shirt, and he shuddered.
Who ever the female he was with screamed bloody murder, and made even the Mighty Prince cringe.
"Shut up, woman. This has nothing to do with you," His words were short, and his tone didn't sound like he was out for a midnight stroll and wanted to talk with someone. Yamcha shuddered again. Vegeta looked back to him, and scowled. He didn't know why he was taking the stupid woman's side in this, and he wasn't thinking of the onyx haired one. "What in the hell are you doing, human? Why are you showing compassion to her?" As he finished his question, his voice was little more than a growl.
"I..uh.. I.. You see.."
"I know what you're doing, Yamcha," Vegeta tightened his hold on his collar. "No woman deserves this. NO woman. Not even that slut." He pointed to the girl, who looked on, utterly terrified. "Tell Bulma. Tomorrow. If you don't, I will, and trust me," that godforsaken smirk of his jumped across his well-defined face. "I can, and will, exaggerate at my own will."
Yamcha gulped, and nodded. He well knew that the prince could kill him at any time he wished, even though he was supposed to have changed, no one really knew for sure.
Vegeta let the terrified man go, satisfied by the look of sheer terror that had invaded the bored, careless expression that had been there not five minutes before.
With that, the prince returned to his room, and laid on his bed, slipping into the same ritual of sleepless nightmares that invaded his soul.