Kate: Edited on 5-12-2011


Vejita-sei


Gohan searched for Vegeta's energy. He had been zipping around the exterior of the gigantic white palace, but hadn't been able to distinguish much about the Prince's location or about the Saiyans inside. It was a gigantic structure, no doubt the architectural pride of the Saiyan race. The elaborately carved white stone was beautiful and distracting. The windows he could see had beautiful arches over them, with what was probably the Royal Crest above each one in some sort of silver-copper metal.

He peeked through a couple windows and was either shooed away or attacked. He escaped any pursuers, and wished he'd had the foresight to ask them a couple questions, like how to get inside or where Vegeta was. If Vegeta was in the center, or maybe even below ground, because it looked like what he could see was just the tip of the iceberg, Gohan would have to get closer in order to find him.

It took him some time, but he realized that the guards he spied on hadn't given up, they left to get reinforcements. He hadn't gone unnoticed at all; in reality his presence had caused quite a stir and more than enough excitement to rouse the guards from their lofty positions throughout the palace.

If he was going to accomplish his goal in the amount of time he had left, he needed to go directly to the top. He knew he wouldn't have enough time to be able to do everything he was planning, but there was hope, however small, of success.

He almost wanted to tell Shoran to meet up in seven days, but that would mean missing his ride back home. It had been so long since he had set his own goal, one that he didn't have to wear some stupid superhero costume to achieve. Every minute counted, and he would not allow anything to slow him down. Six days was not enough time to play hero who was allowed a face and name. He was going to live it up.

Maybe Vegeta had already been shipped off world, Gohan thought to himself. There was only one way to find out: smoke the bastard out. Gohan slowed and let the guards catch up to him. He smiled at them charmingly, before launching his gentle assault.


Chikyuu


Piccolo sat on the grassy hill by the lake a short distance from Gohan's body snatcher. The said imposter dozed in the sunshine, stomach exposed and not a care in the world. Piccolo's jaw tightened. There was no denying how wrong it was to let the situation stand, but on the off-chance this was the one and only Gohan, Piccolo couldn't let the chance pass him by. However, that didn't mean he wasn't going to feel guilty over pouring his affections, however stoic, into someone who was most certainly not the man he had been yesterday.

The boy stretched and turned over in his sleep, moving in such a perfectly terrible way that sent him careening down the hill toward the lake at a good clip. Piccolo sped to rescue the apparently still asleep Saiyan, but wasn't quite fast enough. The impostor rolled into the water with a splash.

"What the hell?" The charlatan shouted after breaking the water's surface.

Piccolo tried to remain unruffled, but it was hard to do after seeing such a characteristically Gohan action coming from someone who was very obviously not Gohan.

"Are you going to live or should I call an ambulance?" Piccolo asked. He stood far enough away so that the fake Gohan wouldn't know he had tried and failed to save him. That would be too much.

Gohan's face smiled up at him in the same lackadaisical manner the boy wore as a child.

"I'm fine, just surprised," exotic words flowed from the youth.

"I know you aren't Gohan," Piccolo said flatly. "So who are you, and where is he?"

The boy's smile didn't fade at all. "You knew all along, didn't you?" the fraud asked.

Piccolo nodded.

"Well," Gohan, who was Gohan for all needs and purposes, rose to his feet and trudged out of the lake and up the grassy slope. He slipped once, but caught himself. "the switch isn't permanent, so don't worry. You'll have your own Gohan back in a couple days."

"Where is he?" Piccolo asked.

"It was just coincidence, really," he said. Piccolo noticed the man's avoidance in answering. "we both wanted to be somewhere else for a while. He used the Dragonballs, I used an enchanted cape. He's where I was, and I'm where he was."

Piccolo was motionless. The thought that Gohan had been so upset he'd had no option but to ask the dragon for anything angered him. Why didn't Gohan come to him for help? He proved time and time again he would come through for the lad. And yet, the dragon had been the better choice. He sat, crossing his legs, making it impossible to get close to him.

"You're not going to turn me in as a fraud, right? You don't plan on bringing me back to the Saiyan we met before, do you?" Gohan placed his hands on his knees and bent at the hips to meet the man's eyes.

Piccolo stared into the depths of the dark eyes in front of him that begged and almost, just almost, seduced him into the boy's desired decision. Piccolo stayed perfectly still.

"There's nothing to be done about it." Piccolo placed a hand on the Saiyan's head and pushed him down the hill gently, trying to create a distanced relationship between them.

The fake tumbled, but caught himself and just lay on his stomach, looking up the hill charmingly at the ethically challenged alien. Whenever the real Gohan returned, he wouldn't be happy to learn his mentor had sexed him up while he was away. It was like molesting a sleeping person, or making a drunk pay a debt they don't owe.

The Saiyan laughed a little, and rolled over so that he gazed up at him upside down. Piccolo was quite positively an enemy from wherever or whenever the strange impostor had arrived from. Could this be the new threat? This devastatingly provocative mountebank had removed one of the strongest of Chikyuu's defenders from the equation and took his place. If that was the rogue's plan, it was masterfully crafted and Piccolo wasn't positive the good guys would win this fight.


Vejita-sei


Vegeta sat on the floor, leaning against a leg of his father's throne. He could have easily sat in his own opulent chair, but opulence for the sake of opulence sickened him. He was the Prince, but that didn't mean he liked the way things were being done. When he became king things were going to change. He already garnered enough influence to have some say in his father's plans, but he lacked the physical power and reinforcement to overthrow him. And his father knew that.

His father was a fool not fit to be King. Allying with Freiza was a mistake even a third-class moron could point out. Vegeta let his breath out slowly. Things needed to change, and he had confidence that he could set the Saiyan race back on firm ground. He had Nappa and half the Elite forces backing him, but they were young and while experienced they were naive. He needed someone who could help him orchestrate an entire war, not just start a fight or end a battle. The Elites on his side were great men, but they... weren't the smartest bunch.

The Captain of the Elite Guard was reporting to his father, and he hadn't been listening nearly as much as he should have.

"Have you taken care of the trespasser yet?" the King asked. That perked Vegeta's ears.

The Captain smiled. "I don't believe he is a threat. He has yet to kill or even seriously injure any of the Elites."

"Someone has kept a very promising recruit secret from us. If we knew he was this capable, he'd already be in the guard."

"True."

Vegeta liked the Captain, both his spirit and his beliefs. He was kinder than any Saiyan Vegeta encountered before, but he was strong and fair. It was against the Captain's beliefs to wear the ceremonial armor any of his predecessors had. The Saiyan distributed any gifts he was given personally or professionally from the King among his men. He did not have grand ambitions; he wanted to make an honest living protecting the people.

"I want him put down. This is bad for negotiations."

Vegeta sat up. Either his father was being overly cautious, or there was something special about this trespasser. This wasn't the first trespasser by far. Vegeta remembered nearly three dozen since he turned 6. All were killed for fighting on royal grounds. His father never had to put into words that he wanted someone killed - it was a given. This was the longest Vegeta ever knew an invader to survive.

"If I may say, I believe there is something to be gained from him. Killing him would be a waste."

That was a high compliment coming from the Captain, just about the highest the man ever paid anyone. Vegeta pushed himself to his feet.

"I want him dead, Captain."

"What can be gained?" Vegeta asked. His eyes were fixed on the Captain's, and they did not waiver.

"Ah, look at him, my little boy is taking interest in something!" The King bragged. Vegeta felt like barfing on the King's lap. His father was a moron – too old and too sentimental to be effective or authoritative.

The Captain seemed to be judging Vegeta's motives and weighing the significance of the boy's sudden concern over the matter. Vegeta saw a small smile form on the man's lips. The Captain's gaze returned to the King.

"I propose we let the next King take care of this matter on personally, and see how he resolves this situation. It may give us a preview of the era to come," The Captain said.

Vegeta held his breath. He was shaking with excitement and honor and gratefulness. The Captain was placing his trust in him, challenging him and giving him all the support he could while still remaining loyal to the King. Vegeta looked at his father with determination.

"Put on a good show, boy. Don't embarrass yourself."

Vegeta was out of the room and heading to the guard post before his father finished speaking.


Vegeta followed the Captain to the last reported location of the trespasser. Vegeta saw the group of guards encircling a pair of Saiyans. Vegeta headed toward them, but the Captain gripped his shoulder, keeping him stationary. There was a long pause while they watched the duel, which looked more like the invader was playing with the Elites, before Vegeta broke the silence.

"So a trespasser gained your attention. What made it a matter to be brought to the King?"

"Self-preservation," the man admitted without shame or a shred of cowardice. "Death is the price of failure, and I can't kill him."

"Can't or won't?"

The Captain gave Vegeta a knowing look. "It's inability, not unwillingness. Nappa couldn't land a single hit on him. Neither could the other Elites who have given their all trying to subdue him."

"What about Radditz?" Vegeta asked. Radditz wasn't as strong as Nappa, but he was smarter and could pick out a weakness in any defense. It made him stand out among the young recruits.

"He remains to be the only one the trespasser refuses to fight. Do you believe they know one another?"

The Prince shook his head. Vegeta didn't understand. The situation was getting stranger and stranger, but he did not find himself moving away from it. Vegeta took a closer look at the man fighting his Elites. He wanted to laugh. The man was dressed like an exotic dancer or concubine. It would take quite a while before his men regained their pride after being beaten by what looked to be a prostitute. The crimson cloak and silver broach seemed too familiar and too ancient to not have significance, but Vegeta let it slip from his mind. The intruder didn't look crazed, and instead smiled gleefully. The group surrounding the man was thinning quickly, and the bodies scattered on the ground, unconscious, were growing in number.

"If he's so strong, then why has no one died?" Vegeta asked.

"Look carefully. He's not playing. He's teaching. It is like he is looking down on us all from a much higher position. It's almost insulting the way he's teaching them," The Captain paused before continuing, "what do you plan on doing with him?"

"Create a new era in Saiyan history."


Gohan was beginning to think he wasn't getting anywhere by just fighting guards. Maybe he was wrong, and the stronger people were standing their ground inside the palace walls. He wondered if it would have been better just to burst through the front doors guns ablaze. Not that he had any guns on hand, or even knew which side you held and which side you pointed, and most certainly he did not know where the front door was. Radditz, his uncle, was watching him fight. If Radditz hadn't been shipped off yet, then Vegeta was still there. It only made sense.

Saiyan after Saiyan hit the ground and none had been able to stand back up. He felt bad just beating them to a pulp, so he had given them a few chances to land some hits, but they missed the huge opportunity each time. They were kittens and he was beating them - that's how bad it felt. Then again, it was a hell of a thrill fighting his own kind.

"Your left side is weak," Gohan whispered into the man's ear before disappearing and showing up behind him.

Giving advice would hurt their pride, but if they listened then it wouldn't matter how much their pride had been damaged. The breeze was gentle and cool, and it brought with it a familiar scent. Gohan stopped fighting with the youth in front of him and resumed searching for his target. Before his eyes had even landed on his goal he was already heading toward it. The guards watched his movement carefully, and as soon as they noticed where he was heading they redoubled their efforts to stop him. Gohan ceased the teaching games and the being gentle to defenseless kittens act as soon as he saw Vegeta.

His plan had worked. He no longer had a need to reproach himself for being stupid, and that was a great feeling, one he hadn't had in a long, long time. Vegeta was standing right in front of him. He could feel the smile on his face grow. He looked so young and- and- and young!

"I knew you'd come," Gohan said.

Vegeta was only a few feet from him. It felt no different than standing next to the Vegeta of his own world. The same intimidating and higher-than-thou feelings were radiating off him. Or maybe they were coming from the tall, buff and sharp looking man standing behind him like a bodyguard. Gohan's smile faded after an exceedingly long awkward silence. Gohan took a deep breath. He was as stubborn as ever. Gohan would have to do all the work to get any progress.

"I was waiting for you, you know," Gohan said.

There was no way that didn't prompt a 'why', or a response of some kind. One of the guards he'd felled earlier ran at him silently, but Gohan wasn't having of it. Without looking, and one swift kick, the half-breed sent the guard flying into the stone of the palace wall. The building cracked significantly, but Gohan paid it no mind. Vegeta still hadn't said a word to him. What would he have to do to get a word out of the man? Gohan took a moment to reassess the situation he'd gotten himself into. Vegeta was standing in front of him. There was a courtyard full of beaten guards behind him, a broken wall to his right. Radditz was standing off to the side brooding about something that was probably unrelated and not Gohan's fault in the slightest, and there was a large man standing behind Vegeta. He'd caused a commotion, sure, but it wasn't something he'd expect to be out of the ordinary. The were a race of fighters.

He took a closer look at Vegeta. He was staring directly at him, but his eyes were staring off into the distance, surprised and a little horrified.