Dark Side of the Son
Disclaimer- I don't own DB/Z/GT, and this is a non-profit thing.
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"You are afraid." The voice stated. It was not taunting; simply making an observation. Vegeta lifted his bloodied head proudly.
"I do not fear you, nor any creature." He stated scornfully.
"And thus should you fear." The voice- accompanied for once by a body- leapt away in a bright flash of white light, leaving Vegeta alone for a brief moment, pounded into the rocky mountainside he had grown so accustomed to over the past few nights. Then he awoke.
Since that night two days ago- that most unholy night of the new moon- the nightmares had continued, and now, on the third day, Vegeta was beginning to remember more about each dream. Things such as the voice. And now, the body. It was clearly female, and hauntingly familiar, as some thing out of a past, half remembered, half blotted out of existence.
Realizing he would not sleep anymore that night, Vegeta crept out of bed carefully, so as not to wake a slumbering Bulma. The thin sliver of a moon followed him down the spiraling hallways of Capsule Corp., peeking in at the Prince through an occasional window. Shortly, Vegeta found himself outside. Snapping out of the trance-like stupor that had overtaken him, he wondered why he had completely passed by the Gravity Room and ended up here.
The moon provided next to no light to see by, but Vegeta didn't care. Not being the philosophical sort, he had been inclined to ignore his errant imagination and continue daily life. This, he acknowledged now, would not be possible. Something was not right.
Thus should you fear. The being's words came back to haunt him. He was not afraid, and certainly not of some apparition that visited him in dreams. But it was true. Something felt wrong. Surrounding himself in the familiar warmth of his power, he took off into the night sky, causing swirling shadows to form and dissipate in his wake. Where he was going, he did not know. When he got there though, he hoped to find an answer or two.
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Goku had been having a similar problem to the Prince's. His dreams were slightly more troubling, and he grasped wisps of the visions like a blind man adheres to his cane. The vision did not worry him as much as his inability to recall the more intimate, and likely crucial, details of Earth's supposed fate. The image tortured him at night, taunted him at dawn, and all but vanished with the full force of the sun. During the day, it was merely an unpleasant lingering in the depths of his mind, but so locked away in the furthest chamber of his heart that he could not quite grasp it. Thus it was for the first two days. The horrid events that haunted Earth's champion escalated on the third day. For the first time in his existence, Son Goku was afraid.
Gohan could tell there was something wrong with his father. He could feel it in his very ki, though Goku went about as if everything was entirely normal. Not haunted by peculiar sights in his waking moments, Gohan was the last of those of Saiyan blood not teetering on the edge of explosion. Still, he sat up long nights, for some reason kept from sleep by an odd sort of concern for his father. With no basis in fact, this concern was little more than a fleeting care that intensified from dusk until dawn. The lack of sleep was not apparent on the boy's young face, nor in his daily actions. He was growing accustomed to his nightly reveries and began thinking of himself as an insomniac. He wouldn't tell his mother; she'd only worry. His father didn't need to know; he was encumbered with problems of his own which Son Gohan did not feel comfortable inquiring about just yet. As the sun cycled slowly higher in the sky, the demi-Saiyan woke from his supposed sleep.
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Vegeta sat atop a crest in a hillside. If he had been looking for the ideal star-gazing location, this would have been the spot. But it was now morning. If he had been looking for a spot to enjoy the shade of trees towering in their aged existence, there were perfect specimens not ten yards away. But Vegeta did not feel compelled to move. If he had been looking for the perfect scene to paint, one untainted by any rude attributes of humans, and one so exquisite in every way that a body was afraid to breath, he was in the correct place. But his eyes were not open. The sun cast its warm rays on the Prince of Saiyans. Purple mountains loomed in the distance. These towering peaks were the reason his eyes were closed. There was something wrong with that place; perhaps it was second nature to one who can feel the spirit of others, but Vegeta did not like the presence of those pinnacles. He was by no means scared. He was simply wary.
In passing over those lofty heights to reach his destination (if it was indeed his destination, and not simply a chance voyage controlled by destiny) he'd caught glimpses of the terrain beneath. Like the valley, it was perfect. Rocky, yet beautiful in its roughness, it lacked the refined nature of the vale but gained something more important in the way of emotion. Those mountains cried out against the bitter hand fate had dealt them and withstood human battery; the treasure of the glen was impossible to behold save by way of air.
Since coming to Earth, the Prince had changed greatly. No longer did he seek blood. Yes, a good fight, but not the blood of the population. Perhaps Kakarot's blood, but solely for revenge- an honorable pastime in any culture. However, Vegeta still thought in the same way; nothing could hurt him, nothing would dare try, and he was the center of his universe: nothing would change that. Certainly these natural inclinations were not hazardous to himself, nor really to anyone else. But, perhaps had he not been so preoccupied with figuring out his problem, he would have realized the answer heading straight for him.
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Goku had escaped his house and the cautious eyes of his son. Gohan tried to hide it, but Goku knew he was worried. He had no reason to be, though. After all, they were just dreams. Goku lived spontaneously; that is to say, he would worry about a problem when it approached and burn that bridge when he came to it. For now, he sought Vegeta. They hadn't fought in a good while and Goku was aching for the rush of battle, minimal though it was in a spar. He needed to get his mind off of everything and this was just the way to do it.
Vegeta, incidentally, was feeling the same way for similar reasons. So if he was surprised to hear Goku touchdown nearby, he said nothing. And if Goku was surprised to see Vegeta sitting in the middle of nature with his eyes closed, he said nothing. Both warriors simply faced each other, Vegeta with his back to the offending mountains. Both began at once, picking up speed in what spectators (had there been any aside from the flora and fauna) would call an exhilarating display of subtle but deadly power. The battle soon switched to the air, brushing treetops and making them sway with hurricane force. Oddly enough, no words were spoken, no taunts or threats or proclamations. Simply the fight, raw and beautiful in the understanding that this was a holy place, and to speak would be sacrilege. No ki burned the ground, no plant was uprooted, no animal killed. Only the two, high in the atmosphere, yet amazingly close to the earth.
Simultaneously, both burst to a higher plateau. Their minds were as one, and each countered every predicted strike with the ease born of years battling. Goku felt the rush, heightened for some reason in this hallowed space, and it pounded in his ears and blurred his vision. It did not matter. What need had he for sight and sound when he was fighting? He knew his enemy and it was only this knowledge that mattered.
Vegeta felt all cares fall to the plane below and fracture into a million careless pieces. He knew very well that this was only a temporary high, but what a high it was! He and Kakarot, though the Prince would never admit, worked perfectly in sync with each other, and it was as if Vegeta did not want to strike too hard in that opening he saw for fear of ruining the ballet. Kakarot, too, he knew, felt the same.
And so the two last pure of the doomed race of Saiyan continued their race through the waning sky. The sun burned overhead now, and now sank lower in the west, now vanishing behind the shaded mountains. Stars peered out along with the dreaded moon. This indescribable, full, parade of power. Two shining warriors. A scene for stained glass windows, a legend for future scholars, but merely a relief from the torments of night for the pair. Then, suddenly, as though it had only lasted seconds, the window was shattered. Vegeta found himself back on the hillside, with Kakarot lowering himself confusedly to the ground. Vegeta stood and the two looked at each other, neither sure what had happened. Kakarot had struck a weak spot in his defenses, Vegeta supposed, but what had caused him to ruin the exhilarating fight? He loved a good battle as good as any pure Saiyan, Vegeta would admit that much on a good day, so what went wrong? It wasn't like him to make a mistake like that.
Goku was as baffled as Vegeta. For one moment- the one second it took to break the rhythm- Goku had wanted to end it.
I am Kakarot, most powerful of the Saiyan!
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so are you disappointed? Yup, it's just another 'Goku goes crazy' fic. Sorry. But if it's any consolation, it focuses mostly on Vegeta. Now then, I am indeed sorry for the length of time this particular endeavor is taking. I can only write when I'm alone, in the dark, and in a bad mood. If this one seems different, well, I think it is. Not to worry, I should be back to my normal, depressing self by next part. Toodles.
~mysticGohan33~
