DISCLAIMER:
Rath: (finally dressed in normal fashion) "It is once again my turn to do the disclaimer. Vetyga's such a slacker…"
Vetyga: "HEEEEY! I heard that!"
Rath: (raises an eyebrow) "Well, if I'm wrong, prove it to me in the next chapter!"
Vetyga: "Is that a challenge? Oh! It's on now! Just you wait... Once and for all, it will be decided who is truly the better non-owner of DBZ!"
Rath: (whispers to reader) "That'd be me, of course!"
Rath and Vetyga: (glaring at each other as they shout in unison) "It is ME who DOES NOT OWN DBZ!"
Vetyga: (smirks at reader) "Enjoy the chapter!"
IN THE PRESENT WORLD, WITHIN THE GRAVITY ROOM:
'By now the brat must realize this will not be the safe haven he expected it to be,' the older Vegeta thought to himself as he kicked repeatedly at his invisible opponent.
Images of his younger self continuously flashed through his mind. Oh how Vegeta wanted the boy to feel regret for his actions… The boy forced his hand.
Vegeta paused mid-kick. Did he ever regret anything back when he was that age? It was so long ago, he couldn't remember. How old was Vegge anyways?
'What does it matter what his age is?' Vegeta shook his head. 'Vegge is old enough to understand the ramifications of his decisions. He went out of his way to defy me. He ignored my warnings out of spite. He knew what would happen… What I would do to him… But he did it anyways.'
Vegeta screamed as he punched the floor in a surge of anger. Large cracks snaked outwards from the impact point.
Luckily, Vegge was not in his sight. Vegeta was uncertain if he'd be able to control his reaction to him. He'd have beaten him just for being there. It wasn't hard for him to justify his treatment of the boy.
Of course, Kakarrot shared equal blame for his son's current predicament; however, there was nothing he could do about his long time rival's involvement. Like it or not, Kakarrot was still more powerful, but his younger self was not so lucky. As far as Vegeta was concerned, he had every right to punish him. He'd do whatever it took to make the boy regret each and every moment he spent here in the Present World.
Vegeta's eyes widened as he realized how much this line of reasoning paralleled Frieza's own.
'No, this is different,' Vegeta validated. 'The brat actually deserves it this time. His actions were inexcusable. He knew. He fucking knew! Vegge will never understand remorse for his actions unless I force him to. I cannot be lenient with him.'
Vegeta closed his eyes. 'One year, Trunks… Just one year…'
ELSEWHERE, INSIDE CAPSULE CORP:
Bulma was still sitting in the middle of the floor of Trunks's room. Her eyes were puffy and red from all the tears she'd shed.
A soft knock sounded from the door.
Bulma looked up. It was her mother, Bunny.
"Bulma dear…" Bunny started as she kneeled down and placed her arms around Bulma's shoulders in an embrace. "You haven't left this room all day."
"H-He's gone…" Bulma sniffled. "My poor baby… He's all alone out there."
"I know, honey," Bunny comforted. She and her husband had been informed only hours prior about the situation with their grandson.
"He could be suffering and there's nothing we can do about it," Bulma sniffled. "We'd never even know… Not for a whole year."
"I know," Bunny repeated. "But you can't lose faith. He's the son of you and Vegeta, isn't he? I'm sure he's just as resourceful and strong as the two of you are. He's the perfect combination. If anyone can make it out okay, he can."
Bulma forced a smile.
Bunny squeezed Bulma's shoulders in a comforting gesture. "Just think about it," she said as she stood up.
Bulma nodded numbly. "I will…"
"Your father and I already fed Bra her dinner and put her to bed for the night," Bunny said. "Food is still on the stove for whenever you feel like eating."
"Did Vegge eat already too?" Bulma asked suddenly.
"That's the Saiyan child you mentioned earlier, hm? I don't think so," Bunny admitted. "Vegeta said that he'd take care of him, but we haven't seen him around yet."
For simplicities' sake, both Bulma and Vegeta had decided not to tell her parents that Vegge was actually the younger self of Vegeta. Bulma had been too distraught to go into much detail and Vegeta had been too angry.
"What time is it?" Bulma asked as she glanced out the window.
It was already dark outside. She didn't realize how much time had passed. Wasn't it morning when they had arrived back on Earth? If Vegge didn't eat yet, it meant the child would have gone for days without a proper meal. They hadn't had much to eat aboard the ship they'd traveled to Planet Rijow in and she knew he wasn't fed well when he was still with Frieza.
Before her mom could respond, Bulma rushed out of the room. A sinking feeling formed in her stomach. She felt guilty. No matter how upset she was by his actions, he was still just a child.
Bulma brushed away her tears as she quietly knocked on the door to Vegge's room. There was no answer, but she could hear water running in the background.
"Vegge?" Bulma called softly. Again, there was no response.
She knocked again. "Vegge?"
When still no answer came, Bulma quietly opened the door and peered inside. She was shocked to find that the room's carpet was completely flooded with water. She rushed into the bathroom only to find Vegge sitting motionlessly in the center of the tub.
"Oh, Vegge!" Bulma exclaimed as she grabbed a large towel from the bathroom shelf. She immediately plucked Vegge from the tub and wrapped him around with it.
Vegge was shivering. The water was now ice cold. Other than a heavy flinch, the child did not react to Bulma's presence. His skin had a very wrinkly looking appearance.
How long had he been sitting there like that?
Bulma noticed that his face looked swollen. When she lifted his chin up to get a better look, he immediately averted his eyes away. He remained exceptionally still, letting her move his chin side to side without complaining or struggling.
It didn't take a genius to know what happened. Her husband had beaten him…
"It's okay," Bulma whispered as she turned off the running water.
She eyed the clothes she'd originally set out for him on the bathroom counter, but it was too late to dress him in that.
Her feet sloshed through the water as she lifted Vegge up and set him on his bed.
After a moment of searching through some drawers, she pulled out a small pair of pajamas. They originally belonged to Trunks when he was close to the same age. She knew they were slightly too big, but they'd do for now.
Bulma's hands shook as she ran the large towel across Vegge's body and hair to dry him thoroughly. She saw the latest array of bruises marring his young skin. It angered her to see them, knowing that his older counterpart was the cause.
"Did you eat yet?" Bulma asked as she carefully dressed him.
"I'm not hungry," Vegge lied. His voice was strained and quiet.
Bulma didn't believe him for a moment.
"Well, I'm about to go fix some food for myself," Bulma mentioned casually. "You don't have to eat if you don't want to, but how about you join me? I'd love to have company."
Vegge shrugged. As far as he knew, it was not a request. His older self would probably be furious at him if he outright refused her. He remembered the first rule.
Bulma gently lead Vegge downstairs to the kitchen. It did not escape her attention how he limped ever so slightly, but she chose not comment on it. Now wasn't the time. First he needed to eat.
Vegge sat quietly at the table as he waited for Bulma to fix herself some food. He was surprised when she returned with two plates, one of which she placed in front of him.
"I know you're not hungry," Bulma said with an exaggerated shrug. "I just figured you might like a small taste."
Vegge's stomach grumbled in response, but he simply stared at the plate. To be honest, he wasn't sure if there was some sort of catch involved with this offering. Was it a test? She'd mentioned that he could eat it if he wished to, but all too often, what he wished for and what he got were very different things.
She never directly told him the food was his. Would she tell his older self that he'd been disobedient if he ate it without explicit permission? Would Vegeta punish him?
'Master Frieza would,' Vegge silently answered his own question. 'And he's just like Frieza, so…'
He couldn't help but recall a similar situation…
Vegeta was six years old when Frieza first summoned him to the 'Great Dining Hall'.
Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz had just recently returned from a successful purging mission. Not only was it successful, but they had completed it in record time. It was the first time they had ever finished an assignment ahead of schedule, despite it being mildly challenging.
Vegeta beamed with pride and happiness. Surely Frieza would be pleased with him this time.
The icy tyrant was notorious for being unforgiving. He had a zero tolerance policy for mistakes, failures, disobedience, or disrespect. It didn't matter how small or insignificant the incident was. Frieza forgave nothing. The few times the Saiyans had outright failed a task proved a miserable experience for Vegeta. Vegeta was made to take the brunt of all punishments. As the Prince of Saiyans, he was held fully accountable for any and all mistakes committed by both himself and his comrades.
'But he has no reason to beat me this time,' Vegeta thought, even though he knew very well that Frieza never had to have a reason for anything he did. Giving him an actual excuse simply made things worse.
Before reporting to the Great Dining Hall, Vegeta was ordered to thoroughly bathe and then to put on traditional formal robes of Frieza's race—the Ice-jins. He rarely ever saw Frieza formally dressed, but Vegeta knew better than to question what made this occasion so special.
The robes were knee-length and composed of some deep red silk-like material from Frieza's own home planet. It wrapped around his body in such a way that the left half of his chest and his entire left arm remained bare. A long portion of cloth draped loosely over his right shoulder and was held in place by a pin with Frieza's personal sigil. The pin signified how he belonged to Frieza…
Vegeta preferred to wear the royal symbol of Planet Vegeta, but he was not in the mood to get beaten today. Plus the thought of being allowed to eat until he was full was very appealing to him. He didn't want to ruin this opportunity.
"Can't say I like it," Radditz snorted. He and Nappa were told they were not welcome at the banquet, but he wasn't about to complain. Vegeta looked ridiculous.
Vegeta shrugged. He didn't like it either. It was far too loose-fitting on him and he didn't like how much it revealed of his skin. It drew too much attention to the fact that he was physically abused and made it obvious how malnourished he was. He hated the looks people gave him. Some people had expressions filled with pity, which was bad enough, but others seemed to find it amusing that the so-called "Prince of Saiyans" was reduced to such a state.
Besides, why couldn't he wear his own sigil?
"You'd better get going before you're late," Nappa warned.
"I know!" Vegeta snapped in annoyance. "I know how to keep track of time, Nappa. I'm not a baby."
"Of course," Nappa quickly made amends. "I wasn't implying…"
"Whatever," Vegeta interrupted. "Don't wait up for me."
Before the older Saiyans could respond, he was gone.
Once Vegeta arrived at the Great Dining Hall, he was escorted inside by some unnamed servant.
"This way if you would," the servant informed, though he did not turn to look at the child.
'Rinorian…' Vegeta mentally assessed the servant's race.
Vegeta had learned about them only a few months prior. Originally, he'd mistaken them for a different race—the Inorvians. Frieza often quizzed him about random races of the universe. Afterwards, Vegeta would be punished for any facts he got wrong or forgot.
"How can you properly exploit your enemies' weaknesses if you cannot even get their race right?" Frieza had reprimanded as he cracked the whip repeatedly across Vegeta's exposed back.
The Inorvians and the Rinorians were both reptilian-like humanoids and their names were very similar, but they hailed from opposite regions of the Anjrom Galaxy. The Inorvians were blind and their huge round bat-like ears gave them exceptional hearing. The Rinorians had cat-like eyes that gave them an advantage in areas of little light, but their hearing was extremely poor. Rinorian ears were small flaps of skin with slits that served a dual purpose as gills when under water. Both races were strong at manipulating ki…
Each race had to be approached in different ways. Confusing them could be a costly mistake. Frieza was a harsh teacher, but he was right in that regard.
Luckily, Vegeta rarely made those kinds of errors. He had a great memory.
'Rinorians can breathe on land or underwater,' Vegeta remembered as he followed behind the servant. 'Inorvians only land…'
The Hall was filled with hundreds of aliens of all shapes and sizes. Most were mingling with one another in the center of the room. Vegeta was too busy trying to recall Inorvian and Rinorian facts to pay much attention to the stares he got as he passed through the crowd.
Long koronite tables lined the perimeter of the room. At the forefront, a lone table covered with tapestries was raised up on a platform. It was there that Frieza awaited him.
His master sat in the middle seat facing towards the center of the room. To his right sat a much larger version of Frieza… Vegeta had no idea who this other 'Frieza' was, but he already didn't like him. To his left sat Zarbon and then Dodoria… Vegeta hated them too.
"Ah, right on time," Frieza greeted, breaking Vegeta out of his mental trance.
"Y-Yes, Master," Vegeta returned the greeting as he knelt down in respect. He kept his eyes focused on the floor in front of him and his face blank. He knew he had to be on his best behavior.
"You may stand," Frieza purred at him.
Vegeta did so immediately. His heart pounded anxiously in his chest. He wondered if Frieza could hear it.
"So this is the little Saiyan you've been talking about," a pompous voice sounded. It was from the larger 'Frieza'—King Cold.
"Indeed, Father," Frieza bragged.
"I was expecting the monkey to be more… savage," King Cold commented. "He almost looks civilized. You've done well."
"Of course," Frieza replied.
Vegeta's face flushed red as the Hall grew silent. Surely, they all heard that remark. His little hands balled up into fists, but he kept his eyes to the floor.
"Look up and announce yourself, monkey," Frieza ordered.
"I am Prince Vegeta, last of the royal line of Vegeta-sei," Vegeta obliged proudly.
"And what are you?" Frieza asked loudly enough so that the whole room could hear.
"The Prince of Saiyans," Vegeta replied automatically.
Frieza's grating laugh echoed off the walls.
"I'll give you another try, monkey," Frieza replied calmly. "What are you really?"
Vegeta gritted his teeth. He didn't want to say it—not in front of all these people.
Why did Frieza have to publically humiliate him like this? Why did everything have to have a catch?
The smell of food wafted through the air as the servants began to set the tables. It quickly weakened his resolve. If he said the words, he'd be allowed to eat, right? It had been a while since Frieza allowed him full rations.
"I-I don't know," Vegeta whispered.
Frieza's laughter once again sounded throughout the room.
"The monkey is still but a child," Frieza excused. "And monkeys are not known to be the brightest species in the universe…"
Vegeta heard sporadic chuckles from people throughout the room, but he was too focused on Frieza to pay them much mind. Outwardly, it sounded as though Frieza was mildly amused, but Vegeta could tell he was treading on dangerously thin ice. He knew he'd be punished for this later. It was in his best interest not to push Frieza's patience any further.
The scent of food once again assaulted Vegeta's nose. He was sooo hungry…
All vegetation on the planet they'd purged was toxic to Saiyans. As an indirect result, all inhabitants and wildlife were toxic as well. Vegeta hadn't been able to scavenge anything to eat there. Of course, he had no doubt that Frieza knew…
'It's probably why he sent me there before inviting me to this stupid banquet of his…' Vegeta thought bitterly.
"One last time," Frieza said with false-patience. "What are you, monkey? I'm making it easy for you. I just told you…"
"Just… a… monkey," Vegeta's voice replied reluctantly.
Once he was full, this would all be worth it. Or so he told himself…
"Louder," Frieza ordered.
"JUST A MONKEY!" Vegeta shouted. He couldn't keep the anger or hatred out of his voice.
"Much better," Frieza praised him. "Join me now, monkey. Zarbon… Dodoria… Don't be rude. Scoot over and make room for our young guest."
"Of course, Lord Frieza," Zarbon replied as he and Dodoria stood up and shifted seats.
Vegeta did not miss the death glares they shot at him as they reluctantly conceded their seats, but he was too angry to gloat over it. The humiliation Vegeta felt burned too strongly. It wasn't like he wanted to sit next to Frieza…
Normally, he took every opportunity he could to unnerve them. It was like his form of retaliation. He did not fear them as much as he did Frieza.
Before Vegeta could sit down, Frieza grabbed a tight hold of his right arm and jerked him closer.
"I must say, you are dressed nicely today," Frieza commented casually as the other guests returned to mingling amongst one another.
Vegeta did not trust his voice, so he simply nodded in response. He was not fooled by Frieza's outwardly polite and calm tone of voice.
Frieza tightened his grip.
"You should feel honored to be present here," Frieza continued. "I invited you, because it is time you learned proper etiquette. I doubt the monkey king taught you such things. Even so, everything you do here is a direct reflection of me."
Frieza nails dug deep into the skin of Vegeta's arm, causing blood to slowly seep down his elbow.
Vegeta flinched heavily, but he dared not cry out. The coldness of Frieza's eyes warned him that that would be a very bad idea.
"Do not embarrass me any further," Frieza whispered. He then released his grip.
Vegeta reluctantly took his spot at the table. If anyone noticed how tense and shaky he had become, they did not comment on it. He felt Frieza's eyes scrutinizing every move he made. Moments ago, he had been looking forward to this banquette… Now he dreaded it. On the other hand, once it was over, he knew that Frieza would punish him… He dreaded that too.
'He said I 'embarrassed' him,' Vegeta recalled silently.
It was never good to 'embarrass' Frieza. Most people that did such a thing were killed on the spot; Vegeta, however, was a special case. Instead of flat-out killing Vegeta, Frieza usually resorted to some more public form of humiliation.
The last time he had 'embarrassed' Frieza, Frieza made him undress himself and then chained him down so that he was laying face down on the floor. He handed his whip to anyone on his crew who wished to take a swing or two at him. Vegeta was delirious with pain by the time Frieza put a stop to it. By the time he was well again, he couldn't remember who all had taken up Frieza's offer, but Radditz and Nappa had made it a point to remember and they informed him about each and every one of them.
Vegeta promptly killed off anyone weaker than him who had struck him that day. The more strikes they had done, the longer he made them suffer before he killed them. Over 50 members of Frieza's crew died as a result. Frieza, of course, then punished him again, but in the end, Vegeta thought it was worth it. He doubted Frieza would ever repeat that form of humiliation and if he did, he doubted anyone would actually take him up on it—At least no one who didn't already beat him simply because they could. He couldn't stop Frieza from hurting him, but he sure as heck wasn't going to let some random weaklings get away with it.
'It won't be worse than that, right?' Vegeta wondered anxiously. 'What did I do wrong when he punished me that way? Was it worse than how I embarrassed him here?'
It bothered him that he couldn't always remember the reasons for his more severe punishments.
Frieza, King Cold, Zarbon, and Dodoria were all digging into their plates of food long before a female servant finally brought Vegeta his own plate. The servant casually side-stepped the puddle of blood forming on the floor from Vegeta's right arm. She did not show any concern for his well-being.
The portion of food on his plate was disappointingly small. It was less than half of what everyone else was served. He was a growing Saiyan… He should have gotten three times the amount of food as them, not less.
Vegeta glanced at Frieza, but his master was too busy chatting with his father to pay him any mind. He wanted to speak up and ask for more, but he hesitated. It was still more than he'd eaten in the last few days. He was afraid that Frieza would take it away completely if he complained. He decided he'd eat first and then ask for more. You could eat as much as you wanted at banquets, right?
Vegeta reached out with the hand of his good arm to grab a large handful of food, but before he could bring it to his mouth, Frieza backhanded him across his face. The food fell from his hand and stained the front of his clothes.
The Hall became silent once again as all attention focused back on Frieza and his ward.
"I don't recall giving you permission to eat," Frieza commented. "Or am I mistaken?"
Vegeta stared longingly at his plate, but his lack of response angered Frieza. Frieza struck him again. This time he was knocked out of his chair and into the wall behind them.
Several guests gasped in surprise.
"Forgive me, Father," Frieza turned to King Cold momentarily. "This will not take long."
King Cold held up his glass of wine in response. "Oh, I understand," he replied with a bored tone. "It can't be easy raising such filth. I still don't know why you insist on keeping the monkey, but it is not my decision."
"Stand up, monkey," Frieza commanded as he looked back to Vegeta.
Vegeta did so immediately. He glared as Frieza approached him. He tried to gauge the tyrant's next move.
Frieza took note of the state of Vegeta's clothes. Not only was it stained with food, it now had a slight rip and the pin was scratched. Frieza reached out and lightly traced his hand along the side of Vegeta's face where he had hit him.
"You've embarrassed me enough tonight…"
Bulma frowned when she noticed Vegge suddenly avert his eyes away from his plate. She knew he was hungry, so why did he hesitate?
"I'm not angry at you," Bulma said as she sat down in the chair directly across from him.
Bulma picked at her food. She struggled to find the right words. She missed her son more than anything in the world. If only Vegge had trusted them enough to tell them the truth, surely they would have worked things out?
Bulma choked back a sob. For once in her life, she was at a loss for what to do. Why did her household always have to be so dysfunctional?
The food grew cold as she and Vegge sat there in silence. Both remained lost in thought…
Rath: (Looks up) And thus concludes this latest chapter for TTWV. I hope you enjoyed it. This one ended up being longer than expected. I will have to expand more on Trunks's situation in the next chapter…
At "WildVegeta": Unfortunately, there was no Drinn or Trunks in this chapter, but perhaps next time we'll see what exactly Drinn has in mind for Trunks… Glad you still like the story!
At "mandy": Bulma will certainly try!
At "I love it": Your English seems pretty good to me so far. Keep it up! Glad my story is helping you with your learning. Hope you liked this chapter as well…
At "BeasCup": Ya, if Bulma wasn't around, things would certainly be a whole lot worse… Vegeta doesn't know how to cope well with the strong emotions he's feeling about what happened to Trunks.
I also thank everyone else who still reads/follows/favorites/etc this story.
Until next time… Sawatdee!