YOU'RE ALL ALONE!

When lunchtime rolls around, Vegeta walks into the kitchen to find no Krillin and – more importantly – no sandwiches.

Needless to say, he's pissed.

Honestly, he's pissed about a lot of things. Breakfast still has him reeling, he's still not Super Saiyan yet, and he's pretty sure he gave himself a concussion while trying to become one just now. This strike to the head has him reconsidering his coma theory from a few days ago, but it mostly has him asking 'why him' and 'why now'. His knuckles are bleeding too because of course they are, and he's going to have to bear talking to that woman about fixing the gravity controls in the training chamber again because he wrecked it. Completely. He wrecked pretty much everything in the chamber completely, and he finds he's not happy with himself, something he doesn't actually realize very often but feels most of the time.

Seriously, where the fuck are his sandwiches?

The two had never established a particular time for questions and sandwiches, Vegeta realizes now, but that's not his problem. That's Krillin's problem, and he had always managed aligning their schedules before. Managed it with such a level of certainty that Vegeta also now realizes that he should've been way more suspicious of Krillin's uncanny ability to predict when Vegeta would be done training. When Vegeta first graced the Brief's home with his royal presence, he had made it very clear that no one should be able to sense his ki from within the training chamber. That was because he didn't want Kakarot or anyone else prying into his personal business and, well… he just didn't want everyone to have a play-by-play of his attempts to become Super Saiyan, alright? If the woman actually built the thing right, then that would mean that Krillin should only be able to sense him after he left the chamber – which means that either the woman built it wrong or the monk's way more competent at sensing ki than anyone gave him credit for.

… nah, it's probably the woman.

Vegeta leans back on his heels so that he can look through the doorway and down the hall. If he had caught sight of the cook, Vegeta might've just made do. The hallway's empty, though, and Vegeta really wants his sandwiches. He wonders if he should find that strange roof again, but the last time he went searching for someone to make him food, he ended up with another person entirely; and he's not sure what he would do if he came back to Kakarot making tacos. Probably scream. A lot. Or maybe the universe would just implode and do Vegeta a favor. He thinks the universe deserves it.

He moves back into the kitchen again, and he feels it. That weird feeling he had the other night when he was convinced that pigs controlled minds that Krillin had perhaps just… disappeared into the night. Except this time Vegeta's mostly wondering whether the asshole ran off while he was ahead. Krillin had gotten the last word during their previous conversation, that's for damn sure, and Vegeta wonders if maybe the bastard wants to keep it that way. Krillin's always been a bit of a shit in Vegeta's book, so Krillin taking the low road to stay on top wouldn't be all that surprising. Even worse, since Vegeta can't seem to sense his ki for some reason, the jackass could literally be anywhere – hiding out until it's time for him to return to his stupid turtle house or whatever. What is a turtle anyway?

No, Vegeta thinks. Don't go down that road. The pig was enough.

Just as Vegeta's contemplating turning the whole estate upside-down, in rushes Krillin with a paper bag taller than his head, and he's apologizing. "Sorry! Sorry," he says. His eyes are bloodshot. "I, I – well, I… had to run somewhere real quick, you know, before picking up the ingredients for the sandwiches, and I–"

He sets the bag on the counter and turns to explain the situation to Vegeta like common courtesy demands, but he finds Vegeta already seated with a look that couldn't be more disinterested if it tried.

Krillin's eyes narrow and, for a moment, he's back to the Krillin that got the last word this morning. "Never mind," he says. He turns back to the bag and tilts it forward to start unpacking everything, but he only gets to the loaf before he realizes what he actually just saw. "Uh, Vegeta…"

"What?"

"You, uh… there's blood. Running down. All over your face."

It takes Vegeta a few uncoordinated pats to find it, but he does just above his left eyebrow. He brings his hand down to look at the concerning amount of blood that's now covering it. Huh.

He looks back up at Krillin to find him nearby with a wet rag in hand. Krillin's hesitant on whether he should try and clean off the blood himself or trust Vegeta's lack of spatial awareness to somehow manage it itself. Krillin's surprised when Vegeta swipes the rag from him on the first try and manages to place it on his forehead.

"Wherever it's coming from, I… I'm pretty sure it's, ya know... higher," Krillin tells him.

Vegeta grunts and dips his head further down than necessary. Krillin gets on his tiptoes to see where the bleeding's coming from. To know for sure though, Krillin would have to… touch him, and that's pretty much the last thing Krillin wants to do today. He just got back from dealing with enough shit. He really hadn't needed this. "I'm-I'm not sure?" Krillin says.

Vegeta brings his head back up and wobbles a little as he starts to aimlessly place the rag on his scalp, bring it down after each pat to see if it's covered in blood. When Krillin doesn't move, Vegeta says, "It's fine. Head wounds always bleed like you've just been gutted." He brings the rag down one more time, winces, sees all the blood in the world on it, and applies a lot of pressure to that spot. "Just make the sandwiches."

"Yeah," Krillin says, "alright." He goes back to the bag and gets to work.

Meanwhile, Vegeta's wondering how the hell he managed to walk out of the training chamber all the way down to the kitchen while blood was cascading down his face. He's used to self-inflicted injuries, sure, but this is a whole new level of tolerance. He's actually kind of proud. If this had happened to Kakarot, he would've been screaming in pain the moment it happened!

(Yes, Vegeta's competitiveness really does run this deep).

Krillin looks back over his shoulder as he places the first completed sandwich on the platter. "You, uh… sure you don't need stitches or anything?" he asks.

Vegeta replies by getting up, walking over, grabbing the sandwich, and flopping back down in his seat at the table. Krillin watches him do all this, rolls his eyes, and goes back to making sandwiches. Vegeta thankfully doesn't notice his attitude; he's too busy sinking deeper into his chair upon first bite.

Once he's done, Krillin sets a platter of six sandwiches down in front of Vegeta and decides to sit down himself. He plays with his sleeve while he watches Vegeta eat a sandwich with one hand and nurse his head with another.

"... how did you do that exactly?" Krillin asks,

"That your question?"

"No?"

"Then don't ask."

What happened was that Vegeta had the bright idea to headbutt one of the drones. Mid-morning training always goes better than early morning training since Vegeta's already accepted that, yes, 300x Earth's gravity's probably not that great of an idea; and no, he's still not Super Saiyan. However, he always manages to do something during these mid-morning sessions that makes his afternoon sessions a bitch. Today, it's splitting his head open. Yesterday, it was almost curb stomping himself. The day before that? Nearly blowing himself up. The lunchtime sandwiches help improve his mood after these near fatalities, of course, but they don't once he done eating them. He wonders if he could use the Dragon Balls to make an assembly line of Krillins that would prepare an endless stream of sandwiches to be consumed at a moment's notice. But if he did that, wouldn't he have to answer all their questions? Couldn't he kill the original Krillin so he's no longer required to answer any questions from anybody ever again? It sure would be nice to kill a Krillin whenever he wanted. Could he then wish for another assembly line of Krillins simply to kill?

"What the hell am I talking about?" Vegeta asks. "I wouldn't use the Dragon Balls for that!"

"Um… what?"

Vegeta realizes he just said that out loud. He wonders if Krillin heard the part about making an assembly line of hims to kill. Maybe not? Who cares! You're Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans! Your ancestor murdered a king! You're the son of many kings! Kings do not like lemons! You did not eat Nappa in ritualistic cannibalism, but it'd sure be neat to eat Kakarot that way! You saw a pig, but you didn't eat that pig! You ate other pigs! Your language chip makes speaking weird! You sure wish your culture and self of self weren't stripped away from you by an intergalactic overlord who kept you around as some weird conquestional token after he killed your entire species! Remember that one time you killed an alien girl because she wasn't a Saiyan? Well, you're all alone! You're all alone! You're all a –

Vegeta's mouth hangs open, the second sandwich in his hands nowhere remotely near it. "... I think," he says, "I have a concussion."

"... Yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and take a look at your head now."

Krillin walks over and, after a moment of hesitation, takes either side of Vegeta's head into his hands. Vegeta awkwardly removes the rage around one of Krillin's arms and throws it, narrowly missing the sandwiches. Krillin moves his head from one side to the other with care.

"Well, you definitely got yourself," Krillin tells him, "but I don't think it's deep enough for, like, stitches or anything. 'Course, bleeding has nothing to do with a concussion, but…" He bends Vegeta's head down just a little bit further. "Okay, you know what? I'll bite. How did you do this?'

"I was gutted from my throne."

"What?"

"I headbutted a drone!"

Krillin lets go of Vegeta's head rather quickly and takes a sizeable step back. "You what? Why?"

Vegeta has no excuse, but his mouth does. "I don't have to explain anything to you! I'm the Prince of All Saiyans!" Smooth.

Krillin raises an eyebrow. "Okay then," he replies. "I'm gonna go get you another rag, okay?"

"About time."

Krillin knows that he should probably do more to address the wound, but he has a feeling that if he tries, Vegeta's gonna headbutt him; and again, Krillin's day's gone poorly enough, so he just fetches the rag.

The two return to how they were before Vegeta started talking complete nonsense: Vegeta eating with one hand and pressing the rag against his head with the other; Krillin doing nothing, though this time he brought them both a glass of water. "Sorry, I, uh… forgot to get more apple cider," he tells Vegeta as he slides the water over.

Vegeta grunts but doesn't complain.

"... you seriously headbutted a drone?"

Vegeta stares but doesn't confirm.

"Isn't a drone though, like…" Krillin makes a shooting rocket motion with one of his arms.

"They fly," Vegeta replies, "yes," like Krillin's a fucking idiot.

"Huh."

It goes quiet again and, after a moment, Krillin gives a drawn-out sigh and sinks into his chair. He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. He leans his chair back and stares at the ceiling. "Headbutted a drone," he says mostly to himself, like he's avoiding thinking about anything different. He tilts his chair back onto four legs and says, "Who taught you how to fight anyway?"

Vegeta's surprised by the question, but right now he'd be surprised by just about anything. In his mind, he had been on a tirade about that one guy that one time in that one place that didn't think Raditz would really rip out his heart and eat it, but oh boy was he surprised because Raditz never said no to a taunt. He wonders if Krillin would ever rip out a heart. Nah. Maybe his own?

Oh, right. The question. Vegeta tries to concentrate. "Myself," he decides.

"You taught yourself?"

"Sure."

He's not wrong. He remembers when he was very young, back when he was still bound to his royal Saiyan crib in his multitude of rooms, the old woman looking after him would form his little baby hands into fists and would encourage his sudden boutful kicks. He remembers that a punching doll was his first toy and the light in his father's eyes when he showed his son how to rip it apart. He remembers sitting on a pillow next to his father's throne while he watched warriors spar for their rank. He remembers meeting the Saiyan woman, an older cousin, who was to be his teacher. He remembers Frieza killing her.

None of them had really taught him how to fight though. Not really. If Vegeta had to give credit to an outside source, it would be the Saibermen. At age four, he was walked into a ring, and he fought one. He lost. He fought one again. He lost. Vegeta's not one to criticize his culture, but perhaps his concussion is, so if he had one grievance with it, it was the fact that society said that Saiyans knew how to fight in their bones. Vegeta agrees with this statement for the most part – because he feels it, oh god does he feel it – but sending a baby into a ring or off to a planet without at least some basic training sounds a bit like… having a concussion. Just as adult Vegeta has become obsessed with beating Kakarot, baby Vegeta was obsessed with beating Saibermen.

Was it the same Saiberman each time? Doubtful, but baby Vegeta liked to think so. That's what inspired him to train. Train hard. Train so hard that, by the time he was able to defeat it, he would be able to punch its head clean off its body or something equally gruesome. Most Saiyans learned to fight entirely on the battlefield, but Vegeta was the prince apparent on a planet he hadn't been allowed to leave until he hadn't been allowed to stay, and Planet Vegeta hadn't had a war of its own in centuries. So he learned with Saibermen instead. And by learned with them, he killed them. A lot. It took him about thirty tries before he was able to snuff out the first one, but damn did he do it and he did it well. It took him another three times until he got his second, but he just kept on truckin'. Soon he was killing all the little bastards. Multiple bastards. All at once. All alone.

Once he was handed over to Frieza and later placed into his care permanently, Vegeta allowed no one to train him. He would spend his days in the chambers instead of receiving instruction, almost dying from a lack of water and foresight. Would Vegeta be better off if someone had trained him? His concussion says yes, but Vegeta says fuck you.

That's all he has to say on the subject.

"... Fascinating," Krillin says monotone.

"So you punched a Saiberman's head clean off."

"... Yes." Vegeta hadn't realized he'd be talking out loud again.

"Alright."

Vegeta bites into his fourth(?), fifth(?), sixth(?) sandwich. There's a lot less sandwiches here than he remembers just a moment ago. God, they're so good. He throws caution to the wind. "What? Weren't you trained by a turtle – whatever the hell that is?"

Krillin nods his head slowly. "I… you know, I have a feeling that's supposed to be an insult, but yeah? Kinda? I mean, the turtle that I usually live with, he knows martial arts, and he helped Master Roshi out sometimes back when Goku and I were training, so… yeah? Turtle did train me in a way?"

"Wait, wait, wait," (Vegeta shakes his sandwich with each repetition). "Turtle's a name?"

"No," Krillin replies. "He's a turtle that's named Turtle."

"... That'd be like me being named 'Saiyan'."

"No, that'd be like you being named 'Vegeta'."

Vegeta's too concussed to get it. "Kakarot got trained by a turtle?" he asks.

"Yeah, same one," Krillin replies. "Now thinking about it, Goku's been trained by all sorts of things. Two old men, a cat, a turtle, a god-Namekian-slug-demon guy, whatever the hell hangs out with him, a Kai…"

Vegeta picks up his last sandwich and shoves it into his mouth. "I'mma go train," he announces before he's even finished swallowing. He stands up and wobbles a bit.

Krillin sits up straight and looks rightfully concerned. "Uh… you sure that's a good idea, Vegeta?"

"I'MMA GO SLEEP!" That came out louder than intended.

Krillin looks even more concerned. "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to sleep if you think you've got a concussion. It'll only make it worse."

"... I'mma go train."

Vegeta turns around and leaves. Krillin knows better than to try and stop him.

"Alright," Krillin calls after him. "I'll, uh, be here!"

He's gone.

"... alone."


Sponsor: This chapter is brought to you by concussions! Concussions: you shouldn't have hit your head that hard, ya dummy.

(Additionally, the following chapter was revised on April 11, 2018 to address minor grammatical concerns. There have been no changes to content).