Untitled
By Mai
She missed him, damn it.
It was her fault anyways, she kept thinking to herself. What made her think that because he had died he would have acted any different? Hadn't they broken up for good once already? Why had he taken him in before, if she knew he would leave her eventually?
She did not cry though. She was not the one who cried, anyways. Not for him. Only when he died did she cry for him. He was alive, and well, so she had no reason to cry for him. They had broken up too many times for this to make her cry.
She had better things to do anyways. Like working, unfortunately. If she didn't have time to clean her room, well then, she didn't have time to cry. Not that she did not enjoy her work. Inventing things, solving problems, that is what she lived for. She loved doing those things, it relaxed her, disconnected her from her problems, from the real world. But paperwork was a different matter. She loathed paperwork. She would never like paperwork, and she would never be good at paperwork. But somebody had to do it. Besides, she didn't want to have time to clean her room.
I feel like cake. Working past midnight were an excuse to get midnight snacks. Or else she would have gone to bed long ago. What is the fun of working so late if one can't have some delicious, chocolate cake? Yamcha never liked chocolate cake. She should quit thinking about him, she told herself sternly. He left without a word, how typical for a guy. She wasn't seeing much of him, anyways, towards the end. He was always training, and if he wasn't, he would not be home. We were not really acting as a couple, we might as well be broken apart. Enough nostalgia for now. She had chocolate cake in her hands…
Ok, enough procrastination, she had to get to work. She was behind schedule enough as it is. It was not only that she hated paperwork. It was his fault. As if building his gravity rooms were not enough trouble (albeit very entertaining). So many broken windows had to be fixed. And, damn it, she was his host, and she would not have her guests dying on her. He might still be evil, but she wasn't, and as his host, she had to obligation to see he was alright.
She was very angry at him last night. After all the time she had spent caring for him, he couldn't rest for a few days? He would probably blow up the gravity room sometime soon too. He was right though. She did want to live in three years. And it was the job of all her friends to do so. It was what they lived for. And what they died for too, sometimes…
Well, nostalgia never got any work done. Especially not this kind of work. Well, at least I'll have an excuse to sleep in late tomorrow. God knows I deserve some sleep after the last few days.
**********************************
The stars are always very beautiful, magnificent. He had never destroyed a star. Planets, sure, many of those, but to destroy a star was beyond him. He did not if he did or did not have the power to do so, but they were so beautiful, so perfect, that destroying them would be wrong. Only perfection was meant to survive. The beautiful, the wise, the intelligent, the strong. Unlike myself. A stray corner of his mind had brought forth this unbidden thought. He was not strong enough. He was not meant to be alive.
But he was alive. Because of beings that were above him, who were stronger than him, and had let him live. By beings that were wiser than him, and had brought him to life. By a being that was more beautiful and smarter than him, and had saved his life.
Pain
Not just physical pain. Not the fact that he had enough open wounds in his body to overwhelm him with it, to take him to the brink of consciousness. He had suffered physical pain too many times before. The scars on his body were proof of that. The beautiful, wonderful pain. The reward for the total exertion of his body.
No, not that type of pain. He never loathed that sensation of complete weariness after battle. But the other pain. The pain that did not go away after healing was the one he abhorred. The aches in his soul left only open wounds, not scars. Each tiny scratch would reopen each time a new one would appear. That pulsating, never ending, pain. The one which would torment him at night. The kind of pain which he would rather die than have to endure another second of it.
Pride
What was he proud of again. Himself? A wounded creature, that barely had strength to stand up once more. A mortal with nothing to lose, because he had lost everything already. A being who had been defeated at everything. A man who was once a prince. A being who swore to achieve revenge. A soul who would not be cast forever into hell until it stood up once more. He took everything I had left: the certainty that I was the strongest saiyajin, my revenge, my dignity. He was not going to take my pride too. I will kill him. I will make him pay. He spared my life once, and he is in debt. He owes me his death for not giving mine to me. And I will make sure I receive retribution.
Which is why he endured the pain; why he tried to stand up once more. He was a warrior who had an unadulterated will to live on; to fight for what was to be his. That was the object of his pride.
Beauty
A soothing presence to bring peace to you after the nightmare. …She was the only one who had been nice to him in this accursed planet. She was a vulgar low-class wench, but she was beautiful, nevertheless. For only that would her life be spared. I do not destroy the magnificent after all. But she did not have to bother me during my training.
Darkness…
**********************************
"Bulma, how come dear Yamcha hasn't been here in the last few days? I miss his company." Really, she hardly saw the young man around here anymore. Bulma said last time he was busy training, but he couldn't be that busy. She was seeing even more of young Vegeta these days…
"We broke up, mother. Again. He left the other day, supposedly to train undisturbed in some far unknown place. God, does he really hate my presence this much that he really be thousands of miles away than close to me?"
"I don't think so dear. Yamcha-kun has always been very independent, like you dear. He enjoys being free sometimes too." Bulma was always so jealous of poor Yamcha. That is why he went to other women, just to spite her. But she couldn't say that to her daughter, now could she? It would only make matters worse.
"Oh, mom, it is just that I knew that he was going to leave again. Or that I was going to kick him out. We are always breaking up since we first started going out with him. Why do we get together again?" She had broken up for god with him the last time, before the Saiyajin ever came to her beautiful planet. Why did she think that his death and subsequent resurrection would have changed him at all?
"Bulma-chan, really, don't you know? You still loved him, even after all the times you broke up. Didn't you tell me you cried when he died? Well, that proves you still had feeling for him. But, do you love him enough to have him in the house all day long? Think about that, honey." Poor dear Bulma-chan. She was so smart for some things, but couldn't figure out the first thing about love. I guess she takes after her father's side…
"You're right mom. Yamcha is not meant to be the person that I will spend the rest of my life with. Maybe that is why I could never commit to him. Fate was trying to tell me we were not meant to be. But how am I ever going to find another guy to go out with?" Heaven knows that I have been going out with Yamcha since I was sixteen. Well sort of. We always broke up, but we always got back together again. I am no good for this finding a date business. I even thought about wishing for a boyfriend to the eternal dragon. I didn't need the dragon back then, though. I found Yamcha.
"Seriously honey, you are too worried about things. Just pick a guy. There are plenty of cute guys out there. You are just too worried about finding the perfect guy. Just go out into the world and have fun. You are too… preoccupied by these things." When she was sixteen, I should have taught her how to find boyfriends, instead of letting her father teach her how to find dragon balls. "But for right now, sit down, relax, have a cup of tea."
"I am already having tea, and I am sitting down."
"Then let me get you some ice cream. And relax. Maybe Vegeta-chan will drop by later and you can talk to him a while," she added in that cheerful tone of hers.
"He is never around, mom. He is always training in that infernal capsule of his," responded Bulma, rather bitterly.
"Oh, you just don't have enough patience. When lunch time rolls around, he'll come."
"I doubt he'll want to talk to me, or anyone."
"Well, in any case, you can still sit down and just stare at him. He is really cute, you know?"
"MOM!"
"Well, isn't he?"
Bulma found nothing to answer.
Unfinished --- Gomen Nasai!!
By Mai
She missed him, damn it.
It was her fault anyways, she kept thinking to herself. What made her think that because he had died he would have acted any different? Hadn't they broken up for good once already? Why had he taken him in before, if she knew he would leave her eventually?
She did not cry though. She was not the one who cried, anyways. Not for him. Only when he died did she cry for him. He was alive, and well, so she had no reason to cry for him. They had broken up too many times for this to make her cry.
She had better things to do anyways. Like working, unfortunately. If she didn't have time to clean her room, well then, she didn't have time to cry. Not that she did not enjoy her work. Inventing things, solving problems, that is what she lived for. She loved doing those things, it relaxed her, disconnected her from her problems, from the real world. But paperwork was a different matter. She loathed paperwork. She would never like paperwork, and she would never be good at paperwork. But somebody had to do it. Besides, she didn't want to have time to clean her room.
I feel like cake. Working past midnight were an excuse to get midnight snacks. Or else she would have gone to bed long ago. What is the fun of working so late if one can't have some delicious, chocolate cake? Yamcha never liked chocolate cake. She should quit thinking about him, she told herself sternly. He left without a word, how typical for a guy. She wasn't seeing much of him, anyways, towards the end. He was always training, and if he wasn't, he would not be home. We were not really acting as a couple, we might as well be broken apart. Enough nostalgia for now. She had chocolate cake in her hands…
Ok, enough procrastination, she had to get to work. She was behind schedule enough as it is. It was not only that she hated paperwork. It was his fault. As if building his gravity rooms were not enough trouble (albeit very entertaining). So many broken windows had to be fixed. And, damn it, she was his host, and she would not have her guests dying on her. He might still be evil, but she wasn't, and as his host, she had to obligation to see he was alright.
She was very angry at him last night. After all the time she had spent caring for him, he couldn't rest for a few days? He would probably blow up the gravity room sometime soon too. He was right though. She did want to live in three years. And it was the job of all her friends to do so. It was what they lived for. And what they died for too, sometimes…
Well, nostalgia never got any work done. Especially not this kind of work. Well, at least I'll have an excuse to sleep in late tomorrow. God knows I deserve some sleep after the last few days.
**********************************
The stars are always very beautiful, magnificent. He had never destroyed a star. Planets, sure, many of those, but to destroy a star was beyond him. He did not if he did or did not have the power to do so, but they were so beautiful, so perfect, that destroying them would be wrong. Only perfection was meant to survive. The beautiful, the wise, the intelligent, the strong. Unlike myself. A stray corner of his mind had brought forth this unbidden thought. He was not strong enough. He was not meant to be alive.
But he was alive. Because of beings that were above him, who were stronger than him, and had let him live. By beings that were wiser than him, and had brought him to life. By a being that was more beautiful and smarter than him, and had saved his life.
Pain
Not just physical pain. Not the fact that he had enough open wounds in his body to overwhelm him with it, to take him to the brink of consciousness. He had suffered physical pain too many times before. The scars on his body were proof of that. The beautiful, wonderful pain. The reward for the total exertion of his body.
No, not that type of pain. He never loathed that sensation of complete weariness after battle. But the other pain. The pain that did not go away after healing was the one he abhorred. The aches in his soul left only open wounds, not scars. Each tiny scratch would reopen each time a new one would appear. That pulsating, never ending, pain. The one which would torment him at night. The kind of pain which he would rather die than have to endure another second of it.
Pride
What was he proud of again. Himself? A wounded creature, that barely had strength to stand up once more. A mortal with nothing to lose, because he had lost everything already. A being who had been defeated at everything. A man who was once a prince. A being who swore to achieve revenge. A soul who would not be cast forever into hell until it stood up once more. He took everything I had left: the certainty that I was the strongest saiyajin, my revenge, my dignity. He was not going to take my pride too. I will kill him. I will make him pay. He spared my life once, and he is in debt. He owes me his death for not giving mine to me. And I will make sure I receive retribution.
Which is why he endured the pain; why he tried to stand up once more. He was a warrior who had an unadulterated will to live on; to fight for what was to be his. That was the object of his pride.
Beauty
A soothing presence to bring peace to you after the nightmare. …She was the only one who had been nice to him in this accursed planet. She was a vulgar low-class wench, but she was beautiful, nevertheless. For only that would her life be spared. I do not destroy the magnificent after all. But she did not have to bother me during my training.
Darkness…
**********************************
"Bulma, how come dear Yamcha hasn't been here in the last few days? I miss his company." Really, she hardly saw the young man around here anymore. Bulma said last time he was busy training, but he couldn't be that busy. She was seeing even more of young Vegeta these days…
"We broke up, mother. Again. He left the other day, supposedly to train undisturbed in some far unknown place. God, does he really hate my presence this much that he really be thousands of miles away than close to me?"
"I don't think so dear. Yamcha-kun has always been very independent, like you dear. He enjoys being free sometimes too." Bulma was always so jealous of poor Yamcha. That is why he went to other women, just to spite her. But she couldn't say that to her daughter, now could she? It would only make matters worse.
"Oh, mom, it is just that I knew that he was going to leave again. Or that I was going to kick him out. We are always breaking up since we first started going out with him. Why do we get together again?" She had broken up for god with him the last time, before the Saiyajin ever came to her beautiful planet. Why did she think that his death and subsequent resurrection would have changed him at all?
"Bulma-chan, really, don't you know? You still loved him, even after all the times you broke up. Didn't you tell me you cried when he died? Well, that proves you still had feeling for him. But, do you love him enough to have him in the house all day long? Think about that, honey." Poor dear Bulma-chan. She was so smart for some things, but couldn't figure out the first thing about love. I guess she takes after her father's side…
"You're right mom. Yamcha is not meant to be the person that I will spend the rest of my life with. Maybe that is why I could never commit to him. Fate was trying to tell me we were not meant to be. But how am I ever going to find another guy to go out with?" Heaven knows that I have been going out with Yamcha since I was sixteen. Well sort of. We always broke up, but we always got back together again. I am no good for this finding a date business. I even thought about wishing for a boyfriend to the eternal dragon. I didn't need the dragon back then, though. I found Yamcha.
"Seriously honey, you are too worried about things. Just pick a guy. There are plenty of cute guys out there. You are just too worried about finding the perfect guy. Just go out into the world and have fun. You are too… preoccupied by these things." When she was sixteen, I should have taught her how to find boyfriends, instead of letting her father teach her how to find dragon balls. "But for right now, sit down, relax, have a cup of tea."
"I am already having tea, and I am sitting down."
"Then let me get you some ice cream. And relax. Maybe Vegeta-chan will drop by later and you can talk to him a while," she added in that cheerful tone of hers.
"He is never around, mom. He is always training in that infernal capsule of his," responded Bulma, rather bitterly.
"Oh, you just don't have enough patience. When lunch time rolls around, he'll come."
"I doubt he'll want to talk to me, or anyone."
"Well, in any case, you can still sit down and just stare at him. He is really cute, you know?"
"MOM!"
"Well, isn't he?"
Bulma found nothing to answer.
Unfinished --- Gomen Nasai!!