"Killing my Soul"
By Pixie
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of its characters.
Pixie: This fic is A/U. It takes place on the Planet Vegeta, and yes, it is T/P. Freiza never existed, Goku never went to Earth. Chi-Chi, Bulma and Videl are all Saiyans, but never really mentioned, so does it even matter? Anyway…When Pan's father, a third class warrior called Gohan, is accidentally killed, Pan becomes the first Super Saiyan on the Planet Vegeta. For her accomplishment, she is married to the Prince of the Saiyans, a boy called Trunks. Though she loves him, he does not appear to love her back. Will his feelings change? Or is Pan stuck forever in a loveless marriage?
Chapter 1
Pan's POV
Daddy…we had a relationship that was so un-saiyanish. There was love, respect, and genuine caring for each other. But that ended. I was a female, Female 001-34711 to be exact. Son Pan. My dad was everything to me. My mentor, my teacher, my friend. He was the only person to ever see me cry. And he didn't care either. Instead of mocking me, like a normal Saiyan, he comforted me, and held me in his arms. I felt warm, safe, loved. The feelings were so overwhelming. I was twelve at this time, and had never felt loved or needed before…its sad when I look back on it. Someday, I will have a child. And I will teach her what love is. She will not be heartless. She will be like my grandfather. He is, perhaps the greatest warrior Vegeta has ever seen, surpassing even the king. But he has a heart as pure as mountain water. So he was declared third class.
That was how Planet Vegeta worked.
Fighting. You couldn't even walk outside without seeing a fight going on somewhere. I walked down the street, not in armor, but a red shirt, loose jeans and an orange bandanna. It seemed like such an ordinary day…But things were far from ordinary.
I was walking down the street, and you know what I saw? A little Saiyan girl, lying face down in the street, dead. There was a fight going on nearby, she must have gotten caught in the middle of it. Though sites like this were common, you never ever got used to them. At least I didn't. The girl's tail was so tiny and limp, she would never know love. No male would ever look in her eyes and fall in love. She would never grow strong, or learn to fight. Tears stung at my eyes, tears I fought viscously. Being seen crying could easily get me caught in a fight.
I bent down over the fragile body and began to lift her gently. But her hair-her precious, shiny, black hair was stuck to the ground, held in place by the girl's own blood. The site was so sickening, I almost threw up. At the very least, I gagged. I pulled gently at her hair, and finally the blood released it, leaving only a few strands of black hair as a reminder of where the child had died. I flew off, holding the limp body to my chest. I landed in a remote field, and blasted a hole in the ground. I placed the child in the hole, and covered her with dirt. When I was done, I checked to see if anyone was around, then wept for the fallen child, whose blood was on my shirt and my hands. I returned home, and washed away the blood, but no matter how much water I poured on myself, the site of the girl, and the anger over he pointless death would not was away.
Gohan's POV
It's a sad world indeed when your own daughter walks into the house, covered in blood. You don't even know do you? Is the blood from someone she killed? Is it from some body on the ground she picked up? I figured it was the latter, but in a world like ours, you never can tell, can you? A story such as this, can only end in grief and sorrow. I pray every day, to any god or goddess that may be listening. But the only gods and goddesses I know are earth-bound. My father, Kakkarott. My wife, Videl, so kind in caring for the poor. My daughter Pan, so innocent, and yet so knowing and still, she is kind. And my brother, Goten, so childish and happy, like our father, in this world of strife. Even I weep. I weep for fallen children, for girls like Pan, who to the world of Vegeta, are only numbers, less than Saiyan. Pan had a fire in her soul, one that constantly worried me. Most girls, though powerful and strong, were submissive to men. Videl had carried the fire in her, and passed it on to Pan. I love them both fiercely, and because of their fire within. But…others do not feel this way. Others mock their spirit. Some others want to break them. And some, some can only fear them and the awesome power their spirits hold. A knock sounds at the door, and I rise from my troubled thoughts to answer the door.