Hidden Links, Part 1
~ShinraWepn~


Trunks sat beside a calm, still lake, watching his father's reflection, a mere speck, high above him as he practiced arial fighting techniques with Son Gokou. Goten was sitting next to him, humming some song he'd invented only a few moments earlier while poking at an ant trail with a stick and giggling as they got confused and ran in all directions. "Goten?" Trunks asked abruptly.
Goten looked up and smiled at his friend. "Yes, Trunks?"
"Does your dad love you?"
Goten stared at the other boy and giggled again. "Of course he loves me! What a silly question!" He kept laughing for a moment before realizing that Trunks was serious. He stopped in mid giggle and regarded Trunks in an almost concerned way. "Why? Doesn't your dad love you?" Trunks didn't answer. He merely turned his face upwards, squinting against the light of the setting sun at the two figures who moved almost faster then he could follow with his eyes. One of the two, Son Gokou he thought, turned Super Saiyajin and the other met the challenge by transforming as well. The power level in the area increased, causing small ripples to appear on the surface of the lake. Had the combatants been closer, the ripples would have been rolling waves.
"Trunks?"
"Hmm?"
"Why did you ask me that? Is everything okay between you and your dad?"
Trunks sighed. "I thought it would be." The lavender-haired boy paused and swallowed around a sudden dryness in his mouth. Then he just let what he was feeling blurt out. "It hurts, you know? When dad was fighting Maijin Boo, I couldn't stand not being able to help him. I was so mad that he knocked me out, just so that I wouldn't follow him into battle and possibly get hurt. And after everything he'd said about wishing he'd been a better father and how proud he was of me..." Goten didn't say anything. He wasn't sure that knocking them out had been an attempt to keep them safe, since Vegeta was possessed at the time. And he really didn't remember Vegeta ever saying words to such affect. But he didn't want to spoil his friend's image of his father, so he didn't say anything.
"And then he died, right?" Goten prompted. Trunks nodded, his fair hair falling into his eyes, but he made no move to brush it away.
"I could feel him die, Goten. I felt his anger at being defeated and the fear right before the end. I couldn't believe it. Dad isn't afraid of anything. I didn't say anything to anyone, but it felt as if the whole world stopped. I couldn't imagine dad not being there for me anymore."
Goten nodded. "I know how you feel. When my dad had to go back to Heaven, I tried my hardest not to cry. I couldn't help it, though. I had only just gotten to meet him and suddenly he was snatched away again." Trunks raised his head and his clear blue eyes met the other boy's black ones.
"Gomen, Goten. I forgot about that. I shouldn't have even said anything. At least I had dad around for me. You never got that chance until the evil chibi Boo was killed by your dad's Genki Dama." But Goten shook his head.
"No, it's okay. I have my father here for me now, and that's all that matters to me. Everything is fine. But you have a problem right now. I want to be able to help you if I can. Please go on." Trunks scratched the back of his head then drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them.
"It's just...I thought things would be different between us. When I saw him land with your dad and Mr. Satan and Boo, I was so happy to see him. I ran up and grabbed his hand and smiled at him. I wanted to tell him how much I love him and look up to him." A bitterness crept into his voice. "I saw how everyone ran over to your dad and how much attention he gave you and Gohan. It was all hugs and laughter and tears and happiness." Here his voice dropped to a near whisper. "I wanted my dad to hug me the way Gokou hugged you. I wanted to see him smile at me and tell me again how proud he was to have me for a son." Tears started to blur Trunk's vision and he blinked them back. "He managed a smile for Mom but he looked at me with his usual irritation, as if I were some kind of bug, flying around his head."
"Oh, Trunks," Goten sighed, also drawing his knees up and putting his arms around them. "Your dad does care about you. He just...has a hard time expressing it. Gohan told me that when you were a baby, a Trunks from the future came to Earth and helped fight Cell."
"Yeah, my Mom told me about that too. She said that dad thought he was quite a fighter." And I bet he wishes I were more like him, was the boy's unspoken thoughts. Then he switched his attention back to Goten who had started speaking.
"Gohan told me that at one point, Mirai Trunks was killed and that your dad went ballistic! He started blasting just about everything he saw, he was so upset."
"But that was a different me. Do you think he'd ever do that if I was in danger? Do you think he'd even care if I died?" Goten reached out a hand and placed it on his friend's shoulder and squeezed.
"I'm sure of it."
Trunks sighed and watched the sparring match going on above his head. He picked out his father from the two and studied the movements he made. Punch. Punch. High kick. Block a ki blast with one of his own, sending them both up and into space until they were nothing more then points of light in a dark orange sky from the setting sun. The two combatants grappled a bit, neither one seeming to gain any advantage over the other. At last, they separated and it was clear the sparring match was over. Gokou swept down and landed next to Goten and Trunks, that easy smile on his face, despite the many new bruises and scuff marks on his skin. Vegeta took his time in his decent. He crossed his arms and slowly lowered himself to the ground, his gold-tipped boots making only the barest of sounds when he landed.
"Hi, boys!" Gokou said, leaning his hands on his knees so that he was more on eye level with the two kids. He looked at Trunks. "Your dad gave me quite a workout this evening." He flashed his eyes up to the scowling Saiyajin prince and grinned wider. Vegeta's face was slightly more bruised and battered then Gokou's but he didn't appear overly upset that he was in that condition. He made a "hmph!" sound and turned up his nose and closing his eyes in royal disdain. Gokou chuckled and ran a hand through Goten's hair. "Hey, son. Ready to go home?"
Goten looked over at Trunks who did his best not to look disappointed that his friend was leaving. "Aww, dad. Can't I stay with Trunks a little longer?" Gokou's eyes softened as he looked between the two friends who wore identical looks of hope that he would say that it was all right. Heaving a sigh, Gokou remembered his wife's tongue lashing that morning and so he shook his head.
"I'd love to let you stay, Goten, but your Mom made me promise to bring you home by dinner time. If I don't, she'll yell at the both of us...again." The way the boy's faces fell made his heart clench in pain for them, but he forced a smile and laughed. "Oh, don't look so gloomy, you two! You can play again tomorrow." Hefting Goten up on his shoulder, he shouted, "Nimbus!" The flying yellow cloud came zipping down from the pink clouds up above, stained as they were with the last light of the sun.
"Bye, Trunks," Goten waved, squirming a bit uncomfortably. After their long talk, this sort of affectionate attention made Goten feel uneasy and mindful of Trunk's feelings. Trunks started to lift his hand to wave as well but suddenly became aware of his father's eyes on him. So instead, he ran that hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face to cover the gesture. Gokou hopped onto the cloud and grinned again.
"Bye, Vegeta! Thanks for the spar. I had a lot of fun!"
"Don't be so smug, Kakarrot! I'll beat you...one of these days!" Vegeta growled, speaking up for the first time that conversation. Gokou only laughed and looked back at Trunks. "Tell Bulma I said 'hi,' okay?" Trunks nodded as the most powerful warrior in the universe and his son flew off into the sky. Trunks watched them go and the warm breeze that tousled his hair did nothing to warm the cold on the inside of him.
"Well, are you just going to stand there all night or are we going to go?"
Trunks winced at the harsh sound of Vegeta's voice. He turned and saw that his father was already in the air, arms crossed, looking down at him. He heard his own words echoing back to him. As if I were some sort of bug, flying around his head...Exerting only the tiniest amount of effort, he raised himself up to his father's level. "Gomen," he said softly, looking into Vegeta's cold black eyes for any hint of tenderness. He saw only pride and arrogance. Vegeta didn't respond to his son's apology. Instead, he powered up and blasted off for Capsule Corp, leaving Trunks to eat his vapor trail. Trunks bit his lower lip and watched the blue streak that was his father's power signature dart off into the distance. Sometimes being around Vegeta hurt so much...Powering up as well, the little boy hurried to catch up.


"Vegeta, I've been thinking."
"You actually think? Good Dende, woman, will wonders never cease?"
Bulma regarded her husband from behind the other side of the mound of food he was devouring at an eye-popping rate. She watched as he picked up a Cornish game hen and polish it off in under a minute, casually spitting the bones back onto the platter that served as his plate. They were sitting in the kitchen at a table in the corner. Bulma had already finished her meal and was watching the servo-droids clearing away the dishes and washing them. In her hand was a light after-dinner cocktail. Also close at hand was an ashtray and her cigarettes. As usual, her husband's appetite far exceeded her own and as such, he was still filling his face. At least, Bulma thought, I got him to slow down and chew. I remember that one time he nearly choked himself on a T-bone steak. And he uses his napkin now, which is a plus.
Vegeta noticed her looking at the last game hen on his plate and in a rare act of kindness, forced himself to push the platter towards her. "Here, you can have it. I'm full," he announced, though his expression bordered on wistfulness as he watched her hand reach towards the chicken. Laughing, Bulma pushed the platter back towards him, deciding that teasing him like that was enough of a payback for his little jibe.
"You can have it. I know you want it," she giggled. Vegeta shrugged and ripped off a wing, stuffing it into his mouth, gnawing off the meat. Bulma averted her eyes slightly and shook her head a little. Some things were best left alone and a Saiyajin and his appetite was one of them. "Anyway, as I was saying, I think something might be bothering Trunks."
"What makes you say that?" Vegeta asked around a mouthful. He chewed and swallowed then took a long drink from his glass of water. Refilling it from the pitcher in the center of the table, he raised an eyebrow at his mate. "Well?"
Bulma shrugged and reached for her cigarettes. "I don't know. He didn't eat much tonight at dinner and he went to bed right afterwards. I hope he's not getting sick or anything." She looked for her lighter and found it under Vegeta's hand. He scowled at her when she gave him a questioning look.
"You know I hate it when you do that, woman. How many months have I told you to quit?" Carefully he removed the cigarettes from her hands and tossed them at a servo-droid which deftly caught them and deposited them into it's internal trash bin. Angrily, Bulma half rose to her feet.
"You have no right-" she began. But Vegeta cut her off.
"I have every right," he snapped. "I'm not going to allow you to poison yourself with that crap. Damn it, woman, I just got back from being dead and the first thing you want to do is kill yourself. I knew you were stupid, but to do something you know is hurting yourself is plain idiotic!" Bulma sat back down in her seat with a little bit of a huff. "Now, what were you saying about Trunks?"
"He's been really moody lately," she said, her tone still sulky. "He's been by himself a lot lately and you haven't even noticed how badly he wants some attention from you."
"What do you think I was doing taking him with me when I went to see Kakarrot? I usually don't let the brat anywhere near me when I spar. I was hoping that by watching he could learn some pointers-"
Bulma made a slicing motion with her hand. "That's not real attention and you know it. When was the last time you talked with him?"
"I talk to him all the time," Vegeta grumbled, pushing the now empty platter away from him. Bulma rolled her eyes. Why was this man so dense?
"No, I mean REALLY talk to him. Hold a conversation with him. You were revived less then a week ago. He's still in shock from the fact that you even died at all. Can't you see that he needs some reassurance from you?" Vegeta leaned back in his chair, regarding Bulma with a strange expression. "What?" she demanded, a little annoyed.
The prince took a deep breath. "If you really want to know, I've been kind of...avoiding him." He lowered his eyes and reached out one hand, toying with the bones on the platter. A servo-droid scurried up and took the tray away from him, but not before Vegeta grabbed a wishbone from amongst the pile of bones. The robot made funny little sounds at him as it emptied the platter into it's trash bin, causing the prince to give it an odd look. Then he shrugged and returned to the earlier topic. "I don't know quite what to say to him. I've been away or training for most of his life. I don't even really know him."
Bulma refrained from staring at Vegeta in absolute shock. This wasn't like him at all. He never opened up like this, at least, not to her. He sounded almost...vulnerable, lost, uncertain. The Saiyajin kept his eyes focused on the wishbone, as if pretending Bulma wasn't there made it easier for him to speak. "On Vegiita-sei, it was a danger to get to know your parent too closely since every son or daughter was expected to kill and take the place of their parent or parents when they were old enough to maintain that position. I was expected to kill my father to get the power of a planet behind me and be ruler. I...don't have a lot of experience with caring for someone. Maybe I'm reluctant to let him get close because of my own dealings with parents from way back. I just don't want to wake up one day and find him grinning down at me, ready to drive a knife into my heart or something." The prince swallowed. "I didn't do well at all with Mirai Trunks. What if I screw this up and damage the brat permanently?"
Bulma felt the urge to tell her husband that this was Planet Earth, not Vegiita-sei and that children usually didn't kill their parents. But for once, Vegeta was being open and honest, letting his concerns on the matter come to the surface. Maybe the thought of never coming back made him realize how precious his life is, she thought. I heard death can do that to a person. But Vegeta, of all people...
Perhaps realizing that he had exposed himself in some way, Vegeta abruptly raised his head and glared. "But I don't need help from you, either. You spoil him too much, woman. He's getting soft." Bulma knew that by trying to place the blame on her, he had covered up for his own moment of weakness. She allowed him his pride, mostly because of that small glimpse of his inner being that he kept walled up inside a shell of cold arrogance. It was for those moments she lived for. It was the whole reason why she fell in love with him and married him. It was the reason why she was still with him after all this time.
"I just think," Bulma said slowly, taking a sip from her glass and setting it back down, "that you could show a little more affection towards Trunks."
"Did you say affection or attention?"
His mate smiled. "A little of each wouldn't hurt." She chose to ignore Vegeta's grumbling under his breath about foolish Human sentimentality. His mask was back in place, hiding the all-too Human soul that he chose to deny having. "Maybe you should go up and take a peek on Trunks, just to see if he really is all right"
"Oh fine, woman, since you're so paranoid about the brat." The Saiyajin stood and broke the wishbone into two even pieces. Bulma pointed at them.
"Did you make a wish?"
"Huh?"
"You broke the wishbone. Did you make a wish?"
"What the hell are you talking about, woman?"
Bulma absently reached for her cigarettes that were no longer there and when she didn't feel them, sighed. "It's an old Earth custom. You make a wish and break the wishbone. You're supposed to have two people to do it, and whomever gets the biggest side gets their wish." Vegeta regarded her blankly.
"So, it's a primitive form of the Dragon Balls?"
"No!" the blue-haired woman hastened to tell him. She had the sudden picture of Vegeta on a rampage, killing every chicken in sight to get to the wishbones, acting in a berserk rage when nothing happened after wishing. "Nevermind. Sorry I brought it up." Vegeta shrugged and tossed the chicken bones on the floor where the servo-droid from earlier came up and swept it into a dustpan, wiping grease off the linoleum. Once again it made angry sounds at him. The Saiyajin stopped at studied the robot curiously.
"Is this a new one?"
"Sort of. I updated one of the old ones. This one has more memory and can perform multitasking a lot faster then the other servo-droids. Do you like it?"
"I think you updated it too well, woman," was the reply from over Vegeta's shoulder as he strode out of the room. "It's bitching at me about as much as you do."

Trunks leaned on his arms, staring out of his window, feeling the cool breeze ruffle his fine lavender hair. He had the lights off so he could see the stars better. Besides that, the darkness fit his mood. It was heavy, oppressive, a black velvet blanket that covered him in it's embrace. At dinner, he had tried his best to conceal his feelings from Bulma but he knew that she caught on that something was wrong. Vegeta was oblivious to it, as always. The fact that his own father could be so clueless to his son's feelings fueled a fire in Trunks, one that needed a safe outlet. And so, he had escaped to the privacy of his room as swiftly as possible. It was a place where he could do a hundred sit ups and push ups and practice his fighting form to release that pent up frustration.
He felt the ki level before he heard the footsteps outside his door. There was a rattle of the doorknob and in walked Vegeta. Trunks didn't turn around, but his fists did clench on the windowsill. He heard a snort as his father surveyed the contents of his room, despite the clinging shadows. The light from the hallway seemed intrusive into the comforting dimness, just as Vegeta's presence was a harsh surface against his already raw nerves. Oh, well. Let him sneer. At least he's pretending to take an interest in my life, Trunks thought to himself bitterly. There was a space where no sound was heard. At last, the tension built up so badly that the boy could take it no longer. "Don't you know how to knock?"
"Shut up, brat," was the terse response. "Your mother was worried about you, so I came up to see if you were okay."
"As you can see, I'm fine. What do you care?" the boy shot back in an icy voice. Vegeta gave a short bark of equally cold laughter.
"Didn't you hear me? I said your mother was concerned. Frankly, I think she's out of her head and getting as worrisome as Kakarrot's mate. Judging by your impertinence, I can see her fears were unwarranted."
"Whatever," Trunks said in an undertone. "You can tell her nothing is wrong." He could almost picture his father leaning in the doorways, arms crossed over his broad, muscular chest, glaring at his small son's back, willing him to dust.
"Tell her yourself. What do I look like, some third-class errand boy like Kakarrot's brat, the one you're so fond of? Deliver your own messages!" The wood under Trunks' hands creaked as he gripped it with white knuckles.
In a dangerously soft voice, he said, "You leave Goten out of this. He's never done anything to you. You can say what you want about me, but don't pick on him." But Vegeta went on as if he hadn't heard a word his son had said and in all actuality, Trunks realized, he probably hadn't. He was too self-absorbed to listen to anyone but himself.
"Anyway, you should come down and let your mother know what's going on with you before she lays eggs, or something."
"At least she cares about how I'm feeling, which is more then you ever will," the boy muttered under his breath.
"What was that, brat?"
"I said, at least Mom cares how I'm feeling," the child snapped peevishly. He heard the sound of Vegeta shifting his stance behind him.
"Alright, that 's enough of this. Are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?"
"Nothing is the matter!," Trunks shouted. "Now get out! This is my room, I didn't invite you!" The last was added out of spite. The boy felt a small amount of pleasure as the silence after his words lengthened into a generous gap. The space was long and empty and pretty soon, the void started to get annoying. What was taking Vegeta so long to reply? Usually he had a quick rejoinder to follow up anything. He always had to get in the last word. This was unlike him to be so quiet during a spat. "Well? Are you going to leave?" No response. "Dad?"
When stillness again met his words, Trunks turned his head. His door was still open, but Vegeta was no where to be seen. Startled, the boy scanned his room and didn't see the prince poking at his stuff or sitting on his bed or even leaning against the wall, glaring at him. He was simply gone. He'd left without so much as a good-bye or a footstep announcing he was departing. For some reason, that made Trunks irrationally angry. Without a second thought, he stepped onto the window sill and leapt out. Catching the wind, he powered up and flew off into the night sky. The wind whipped his hair into his face but he didn't care. "Stupid wind," he murmured with a hiccup, blinking the moisture out of his eyes. "It's making me cry."

Bulma set her book aside and looked at the little digital clock on the nightstand on her side of the bed. It was eleven thirty. Vegeta had gone up to check on Trunks around nine and had come back down a few minutes later to inform her that they had a brat for a son and that if she needed him, he would be in the gravity room. She had sighed and gotten up to try and fish her cigarettes out of the servo-droid's trash bin, but found them half buried under rubbish. She wasn't very eager to go digging through the mess so she had left them there and decided now was as good a time to quit as any. But Dende, it was hard quitting cold turkey! Finding some gum, she had put that in her mouth to ease the craving and went up to smooth over whatever hard feelings her silly husband had undoubtedly left behind.
"Trunks? Can I come in?" she had asked, knocking on the doorframe to her son's room. Sticking her head in, she saw an empty room and the window wide open. The implications of what had happened didn't strike her directly. Bulma then wandered around Capsule Corp, calling Trunks' name, looking in all his usual spots. At last, when she'd determined that he was nowhere in the building, she'd gone out to the last place where he might be.
Vegeta had not been happy about being disturbed. He never was when he was working out. This time, he had been in an especially foul mood when he'd flung open the door in answer to her knocks. "What is it, woman? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Is Trunks with you?" Bulma had asked.
"Of course not! Why on Earth would he be with me?"
"He's not in the house. I thought you might know where he is."
"I'm not his nanny, woman. I can't keep track of him every second of the day!"
Bulma had gotten steamed at this and yelled right in her husband's face, "No, but you are his father! Maybe it's time you started to act like one!" Turning away, she had marched off towards the kitchen again. Once inside, she had reached for the phone and called up Chi-Chi.
"Hello, Son residence," said the voice on the other end of the line.
"Gokou?"
"No, this is Goten. Who's this?"
"Oh, sorry. Hi, Goten. You sounded like your Dad. This is Bulma."
"Bulma? Hi! What's up? Want me to get Dad for you? Or Mom?"
"No, I think you can help me," the blue-haired inventor said. "Is Trunks over there?"
"Trunks?" He had sounded surprised. "Hmm, not that I know of. Maybe Mom knows. Hold on." Bulma heard Goten set the phone down and shout for Chi-Chi. There was the low burble of conversation, too soft for Bulma to have made out what was being said. But in the next moment, Gohan had picked up. "Bulma? This is Gohan. Trunks isn't here. What's wrong? Is he missing?"
"Yeah. Him and Vegeta got into some sort of disagreement, I think. Anyway, he's flown off somewhere and I haven't the first clue where to look."
Gohan's voice turned sympathetic. "Gee, that's too bad. Would you like it if Dad and I went out to look for him?" Bulma was considering this when she'd heard someone clear their throat behind her. She had turned and saw Vegeta toweling off sweat from the backs of his arms and neck. He'd made a head gesture for her to hang up the phone so he could talk with her.
"Um, thanks anyway, Gohan. I think we can manage for the time being, but we'll keep you and Gokou in mind if we end up needing some help."
"Okay, Bulma. I hope you find him. And don't yell at him too much, okay? I'm sure Trunks wouldn't run off without a good reason."
"Uh, huh. I know. Talk to you later, Gohan."
"Bye."
The inventor had hung up the phone and put her hands on her hips, watching Vegeta as he downed a gallon of milk he'd fished out of the refridge. "Well? You had something to say?"
"First of all, woman," he had begun in a slightly aggressive tone, "don't go spouting our problems to Kakarrot or his family. I'm more then capable of dealing with one lost brat without involving that half-wit."
"Well, excuse me, Mr. High and Mighty Prince of the Saiyajins! Had I thought I could rely on you to do something about the situation, I wouldn't be calling Gokou for assistance."
"Second," Vegeta had continued, his countenance a little less angry then it had been a few seconds ago. "Trunks is stronger than anything alive today, excluding me." He'd caught Bulma's half-sneer. "And Kakarrot, of course," he'd added in a sour tone. "He's got enough fighting power to protect himself from just about anything Earth can dish out at him. If this were some other planet, I might be worried. But seeing how Earth is such a weak world, I don't think there is any reasonable cause for alarm."
"That shows you how much you know," Bulma had laughed, harshly. "He's just a little boy. Why don't you just say what you're thinking? You don't care a bit about Trunks or where he might be." She had expected Vegeta to blow up at her, to yell and fuss like he usually did during their fights. But instead, he got really quiet. His olive complexion blanched a bit, but whether from anger or something else she couldn't tell. He'd turned on his heel and tossed the towel he'd brought in with him over a chair.
"I came in here to tell you I'm going to go look for him. You stay here in case he comes back."
Bulma had stood a little straighter. "Don't be ridiculous! I'm going to look for him too. Mom and Dad can hang around here to wait for him and contact me on the radio if he shows. I'm taking a hover car out to search the surrounding area. You can fly out to wherever it is you were going to look."
"Don't be asinine, woman!" he'd snapped on his way back out the door. "The last thing I need is for you to go wandering around as well. Just do as I told you for a change, okay?" Bulma had stood there, listening to the sound of her husband flying off, a slight smile on her face. Though he'd rather die then admit it, she realized that she'd been wrong. Vegeta did care and was just as worried as she was. He'd been trying to comfort her, in his own awkward way, and he'd also been trying to reassure himself as well. He covered his concern with bluster because his pride was too thick to let him show a weak, sentimental emotion. Trunks' disappearance had struck a cord inside him, she could tell. It had wounded him in some way, whether it was his ego or some sense of fatherly instinct.
Sighing, Bulma picked up her book again. Vegeta had been gone all this time and there had been no sign of either him or Trunks. Vegeta is right. I really need to stop worrying. I used to be all for danger and excitement. Maybe having kids mellows you. It's just that, he's my little boy. I don't care how much Vegeta brags about his fighting strength, Trunks is still just a kid. I hate to think of him out there, all alone, probably upset though Dende only knows about what. Probably something his tactless father said to him. The inventor sighed again, turning the page. I only hope that he can find Trunks and correct whatever it is he did.

He'd left Trunk's room angry. That was always his first mistake, he realized. When emotion clouds the brain, you tend to miss important things. Nappa had proven that fact so many years ago. But he'd been so impudent! And while Trunks is no saint, he's never been so rude to me in his life. Not that I care. I mean, at least the brat has some guts to stand up to me, which is more then most around this miserable hunk of rock. Him and Bulma seem to understand what I'm trying to say, even though the wrong words come out most of the time. I'm not half the bastard they think I am, really. I'll just be damned if I'll simper and fawn over people like Kakarrot. But that's no excuse for the brat to have been so cold towards me. It's not as if I bug him all the time, or anything.
Trunks hateful words still reverberated in his ears. He'd sounded exactly like Vegeta himself. That fact scared the prince to a great extent, much more then he cared to let on. Sons had a way of rising up against their fathers. He'd been preparing to do it to his father, that is, before Freeza had snatched him away and stuffed him into the cargo hold while he blew Vegiita-sei to smithereens and then gloated over the fireworks. He knew one day that his sons would do the same thing to him. But damn this blasted planet! He'd grown soft, weak. He wanted to believe that things were different and that he wouldn't one day have to encourage Trunks in killing him. Yes, he'd seen that things were very different then back home, what with Kakarrot and his brood, but Vegeta refused to use them as an example of the majority of people on Earth. Kakarrot was brain damaged and so too, it seemed, was the rest of his family. Decent fighters, all of them, but not a single bloodthirsty impulse amongst the lot.
Vegeta snapped to a halt in mid-flight and scanned the dark ground below him. The moon was full, making it easy to see. Someone had obviously wished it back with the Dragon Balls. Not that it would make much of a difference now. Trunks and Goten had their tails removed surgically at birth so as to prevent them from "going ape" as that infernal Namek, Piccolo, liked to say. Vegeta saw it as a dreadful waste of good natural fighting talent, but he'd relented to the operation at Bulma's urging. Thinking about tails, he felt a sympathetic twinge near his buttocks were his own tail had been so forcefully removed during his first sojourn on Earth. Though he could not actively seek out and destroy the little worm that had dared maul him in such a fashion, Vegeta swore that should he ever find Yajirobe alone, he'd arrange for the little puke to have a serious, and fatal, accident.