Harvest of the Soulless

By Poe

Chapter Seven:

Change

"Under this November sky

I feel a world turn.

You and I are just a dream

Just a fallen dream.

Here and now, tears transgress me back to times,

Where a dream made a widow of me."

That night, I lay alone, curled up in my bed. Thanks to the broken window that I had neglected to mention to my father, the room was frigid and unwelcoming. I decided against using ki to keep me warm, and instead pulled on a few extra layers and curled up into a ball. The night breeze was actually refreshing once I had warmed up, and being able to look up at the night sky without having a slab of glass to shield it was surprisingly pleasant.

I sighed, unable to sleep. I had stared longingly out my window since I first went to bed, but it had not kept me from staying awake. Lying there, I had thought of many things that had probably not aided me in sleep. I wondered if Vegeta was right about "Saiyan instinct", if Bra and Bulma's feelings were fueled my some aspect of Saiyan nature. If not, what were they thinking? Why my father and why was this all happening at once?

And what was I to do about Trunks? The only logical explanation for his feelings would be instinct, the age difference was absurd. So, in addition to my cheating on him, it would make sense to break up with him because he only liked me for instinct. But with that in mind, then what was the point of being with Vegeta? And was this Saiyan instinct theory just a lie as my father would have me believe?

I wondered about a lot of things, it seemed yesterday was a day of question. Uncertainty and doubt were becoming a part of my life. Things I had known for so long had come into question, like my father's innocence and Vegeta's feelings for me. I even became a suspect of myself, I felt as though I was a different person than I was two days ago. How could things be changing and falling apart so suddenly? I thought I had a grip on my life, and that even when it was terrible I could reassure myself that everything was in control. Then, when things happened that were no fault of mine that hurt me, I felt myself overwhelmed with despair.

Nothing seemed to make sense but the hate that lay warm inside, ready to explode.

I shuddered as a particularly strong wind blew in and eddied around my small room. It was rather ridiculous to sleep in a room with no window; this was Japan, not medieval France. I liked to be uncivilized once in a while, but I had to admit that the conditions were absurd.

            I shifted to the side, trying to find space to be comfortable. Something was steeling away my ability to sleep, and I couldn't understand what it was. Was I apprehensive? Yes, this was clear, but about what? Since so much had happened, it would be expected of a normal person to have trouble sleeping. But I wasn't like that. Problems did not disrupt any sleeping patterns for me, unless that problem was nervousness.

            Then, in an instant, I realized what it was.

            I felt a flash of a ki signature, sudden and without alert. It was Vegeta, I knew it. I was shocked, but in a way I had known he would come all along, that was why I couldn't sleep. I had a connection with him, the Saiyan so different from me, and I could tell that he would visit me. Even if I couldn't realize it.

            But what were his intentions? And why was he coming now?

            I sat up in anxiousness and noticed my pulse had quickened. Vegeta. He was there, and he was coming for me. It was hard to believe, even though part of me had expected it. I was thrilled and at the same time fearful of what was to come. I didn't know why he was coming, even if I thought I did, there was still uncertainty.

            I had to just ignore my shock and excitement and wait for him to come. I would ask questions, hope he would answer, and in the end either get something useful out of it or not. That was the way interactions between Vegeta always had to be; straightforward and secretly complex. Exactly the words I could use to describe him.

            I wrung the blankets I had captured in my grasp, anticipating him. It seemed it would be hours before I would see him, even though I had felt his ki signature heading towards me only moments ago. It was torturous waiting to ask questions, but more importantly, to see him.

            I brushed some hair from my face, suddenly aware of my appearances. I was acting as timid as a schoolgirl, something I had never really been. I was too much of a tomboy for the short skirts they made us wear, but it seemed that now all the femininity was catching up to me. I even snuck a glance in the mirror to make sure I looked all right, but it only worsened things.

            Who was I kidding? Either he liked me for who I was, or he never would. And this was Vegeta, did I really want him to like me? I hated obsessing over something, reaching for someone who always seemed out of my grasp. What others would call "the wonders of falling in love"; I would refer to simply as horror. I was forced to depend on him for so much emotional comfort; exactly what he could not give me.

            Finally, Vegeta was nearing to the point that he would arrive in seconds. I grew more and more nervous, and grew angry at myself for being nervous about him in the first place. And before I could think another thought, he was there in my room.

            He flew in through the window, at first what seemed like a blur. With amazing precision, he stopped at once, hovering in the air with the force of his ki stirring everything in the room. I stared at him in shock, he was right in front of me. There was so much I needed to ask him and I needed to be with him with all of my being. Only one day away from him and I couldn't wait to see him again; he had fulfilled my loneliness and I loved it.

            My heart thundered as I looked at the moonlight on his face, a face of such bitter resentment and yet so handsome. I clutched the sheets tightly, frozen with shock. The questions remained in the anarchy of his entrance. What was going on? What was he doing here?

            "Vegeta, what is it now?" I asked with no resentment in my voice, then remembered quickly why he had come last time and added, "is it my father again?"

            A fierce wind found its way in and stirred things in the room as Vegeta's ki had. His face grew slightly colder and he leaned over. Curious to see what he would do, I leaned forward. His hands pressed against the comforter and he crawled leisurely on top of the bed, Vegeta's eyes intent on mine the whole time.

            "The same twisted affair he's been engaging in for months." I paused in thought. It felt as though he was hiding something from me. 

            "Why have you come, then?" I said, still grasping the blankets despite my usual stubborn bravery.

            He smirked and stopped, seating himself facing me. He was off to the side, closer to the window, and his face grew dark with shadows. "Why do you think?"

            I felt a lump grow in my throat. "Why now?"

            "Why not?"

            I remembered something and anger stirred in me. "What if I don't want you here?"

            He twitched and then let out a laugh. "You've had me once, am I to believe you will not have it again?"

            "I don't want to get pregnant," I blurted out. I regretted saying that, if I had stated that he should leave because I didn't want him, he would not find a way around it. He could always find away around my physical excuses.

            I saw him hold a small square-shaped package in between two of his fingers. I saw it and sighed, hoping to conceal the blush that had creped over my cheeks.

            "You're awfully forward," I said, adding, "And don't think that's going to solve everything. There are other reasons that I can't be with you, you know."

            "Are there?" he said, rhetorically. His hand touched the back of my neck, a gesture devoid of hesitation. I grew uncomfortable.

            "Of course! And you know that!" I said, about to cross my arms.

            "It's a pity I don't care," he said, his voice low and thick with a feral lust. Then, before I could think, he pulled me towards him. I was suddenly in his arms, and he was kissing me and flooding me with excitement. His hand was now buried in my hair, and mine were trapped in between us. Memories of our first time together hit me as felt his iron chest and the heat radiating from him. He was so warm, a sign of great power. A small bit of his ki was being released in heat form, so his power literally emanated from him. 

But I had to pull away; it was too sudden. It didn't matter that I didn't care about just how sudden it was, pulling away from him was the proper thing to do. So my hands found themselves to his shoulders and I pushed. He felt the gesture and stopped at once, tearing his lips from mine.

"I can't, I just can't," I said, avoiding his gaze.

"And why the fuck not?" he asked, irritated that I rejected him.

"It's just too soon. And those things break, and if I get pregnant, then what?"

"Then you should be honored to have a Saiyan child, and you should be honored that I came here in the first place," he responded, pointedly.

I felt some anger provoked in me. "Maybe I shouldn't say why I can't be with you, maybe I should be asking why I should in the first place."

His posture stiffened with anger. "I don't need to answer that, you know perfectly well why."

"So I can be used and thrown away?"

"If I wanted a girl to prostitute herself to me tonight, I would've turned to a whore like Bulma."

I realized that it was the first time I had heard him say her name, but dismissed it. "You treat me like a whore, what difference is there between Bulma and I?"

Frustration spread across Vegeta's face. "You were a virgin! It certainly is a difficult task to treat a virgin like a whore, is it not?"

"Well you did a good job of it." 

"What do you want me to do? Coddle you and obsess over you? I swear, brat, it's as if you have only one purpose in life and that's to demean me."

"I demean you? Well, I do learn from the best." I tried to turn around, but he caught me and held my arms so I faced him.

"You want me. I've given you what my son could never give you, and you want more." Before I could argue again, he caught me in a fierce kiss once more. I felt myself grow weak; he was so attractive I had to struggle to resist him.

But I managed to pull away from him once more. He seemed amused, not angry as he was the first time. "I told you I can't."

"And yet you want me. Who are you trying to impress by not sleeping with me? Your father?" Vegeta responded. It sounded ridiculous and I was about to argue with him, when the truth of his words hit me.

It was the perfect way to get back at him. My father said he didn't mind as long as I used protection, and thanks to Vegeta planning ahead, I had it. Now, I could get revenge and there was nothing he could do about it. If my father had any further complaints about it, I had another argument as well. It would be hypocritical of him to tell me to stop, so he wouldn't. But inside, he would suffer. And that was exactly what I wanted to happen, I wanted to make him suffer as I had and still would. Not only just because of this whole Bulma and Bra issue, but also because of those months I spent in depression. My father wasn't there for me, he only made things worse. So it was perfectly fine for me to do this with Vegeta and anger my father, it was only paying him back for all the anguish that should've never been there.

"You know what," I said, angered, "My father will be probably too caught up about Bulma to care. And if he does, then maybe he can understand what I'm going through."

"I see you're understanding my point," Vegeta said, pleased in a sort of sinful way.

"Don't rub it in," I said, with playful anger and teased him with a brief kiss. He smirked and lunged, returning the kiss with one completely lacking in virtue, but still wonderful for me. I was pushed backwards and my head pressed against the pillow, thoughts of my father slipping away completely.

"Vegeta," I said, my breathing growing heavier, "You won't throw me away, will you?"

My shirt was pulled off and tossed to the floor with no prudence or care. I felt his hand on my waist and his teeth on my shoulder. Eventually his other hand reached down and he tugged off my pants, and embarrassment and shyness creped back to me. Would I ever be comfortable around him?

"I have plans for you, little girl," he said, mockingly. I sighed and pulled off his shirt. How bizarre and beautiful everything was, and how quickly it had become. Even his words were sounding romantic, something I never thought Vegeta could be.

I smiled and kissed him.

Life was always changing, and I loved it.