Rhyme & Reason 6:
[ I N T E L L E C T ]




Gokou, knowing that Chichi could return at any moment and wouldn't like to see Vejiita unconscious in her house, had hastily carried the sick Saiyajin to the sofa in the make-shift rec room, Gohan's room before he moved the university campus. The rec room, like the Playstation, he taken a lot of begging for Chichi, who had wanted a guest room, to comply.

He looked back at Vejiita. He was sprawled with one arm and one leg over the end of the couch. He looked relaxed, but ever so often a tremor would run through his body and cause him as little as a twitch or as much as a mild, short spasm of his entire being. Gokou pressed his lips together.

This is not Vejiita, he thought.

Vejiita did not come to the person on whom he had declared eternal war when he got booted from his house. Vejiita rarely complimented him; the most praise he had received him was a subtle nod, or, a thumbs-up, once.

Vejiita doesn't have old friends, routinely miss appointments scheduled long before-hand, or appear inadequately attired, or sit by him after a workout.

He was sick now, he knew, watching him sleep restlessly. How long had he been sick? Was it more than stomach pains and forgetfulness?



Chester had passed out with the body and left Vejiita lost in a dark, drug-induced world of unconsciousness.

He had nightmares, those that come with this sort of obliviousness. Horrendous, suffocating blobs of formless color, sudden flashes of light that made his head pound. And the screams – he didn't know whose screams they were, but he was afraid – deathly afraid – that they were his.

He woke up what seemed like years later. Time, he knew, was unmeasurable, and about as dependable as most other people he knew. He did not dwell on that forsaken concept. Instead, he tried to figure out where precisely he was. He explored his surroundings without moving from his spot. He was not home, he knew that. Home didn't smell like this. It was morning. It had been mid-afternoon. He knew it was morning because bright sunlight was shining through the windows, birds chirping. Capsule Corp. few windows and no birds.

The others, he thought briefly before something else invaded his senses.

Kakarotto.

Kakarotto's house. Oh no.



Gokou crouched down and studied Vejiita's face. He had a nervous, bewildered expression, one that he had never seen on him before. He almost smiled; the expression was so uncanny – and dare he say cute? – on the wild Saiyajin. He would have smiled, but he looked so scared, too.

He stared up at him, paralyzed on his spot on the sofa, silent and waiting for him to speak. He granted his silent plea. "Vejiita. You came here this morning. What happened?"

No change in his expression. Gokou supposed that was a bad way to start out.

Vejiita started to pull himself out from the lumpy old sofa. Impulsively, Gokou helped him out. He heard no complaint or refusal of the assistance during or afterwards. Vejiita just sat on the couch staring at his hands. "Hungry?"

He shook his head.

"I'll go get you something."

"No, don't. I'm not hungry."

Gokou relaxed. "Okay..."

"Your wife's not home," Vejiita commented after a period of uneasy silence.

"Nope. Took Goten shopping." Vejiita raised an eyebrow at the response and looked out the window. It was a small window rather high up on the wall. It was a view of tree branches and a couple birds here and there. "Why?"

He didn't answer. After another minute, he said, "So... I came here this morning?" Gokou nodded. When he didn't ask any more questions, Gokou volunteered information.

'You came here about an hour ago not looking... that well. You said that you were with an old friend or something. That you screwed up... You weren't sure if you were welcome back home."

Vejiita's face hardened. "Dammit." He stood up. "I guess I had better be getting home... I don't think your woman likes me that much."

"She's not here."

"I know that!" he yelled. He took a stop forward and swerved around Gokou, who stood in his way. "I am going home," he told him. "I'll see you.. Tomorrow." Gokou remembered that today was Friday.

"If you can come," he ventured evenly.

"I'll be here. That women can't be too pissed at me. Would you move it?" Gokou nodded and stepped out of his way. Vejiita let himself out and Gokou followed his departing ki signature until he was closer to Capsule Corp. than his house.

Gokou suddenly heard a loud bang and saw a flash of black streak down the hallway. A moment later, Goten's door slammed shut. "Gokou, I'm home!" he heard Chichi yell. Vejiita had left just at the nick of time. "Sorry I'm so late," she said, coming down the hall after Goten, though with a bit more dignity. "But I stopped at Bulma's house after we went shopping. She was a bit busy though – cleaning up her house."

"What happened?"

"Trunks and Bra destroyed it." She noted Gokou's surprised look. "Bulma had to go out last night and asked Vejiita to watch them. And of course he didn't!" She threw up her arms and walk out of the small spare room in which Vejiita had been resting. "He took off as soon as she was gone and those kids trashed the place! Goten is lucky he wasn't spending the night over there.." she added, seething at the thought of her youngest son participating in such vandalism of her best friend's home.

"Trunks and Bra did that? That's not like them."

Chichi snorted. "You'd be surprised at what kids'll do," she told him knowingly, "when the house is empty and no one is watching them. Those two are good kids, but they're still kids."



Bulma found Vejiita in the recently refurnished living room. One would never be able to tell that the left wall was once completely aflame. He was sitting on the new dark blue sofa, one ankle crossed over his knee, placidly reading a book. Bulma had never seen him read before, at least not leisurely. She knew he could read fine, but to sit down with a novel...

"Morning, Vejiita," she said.

"Hmm..."

He didn't even look up at her, just kept reading.

"What are you reading?" He glanced up at her. His expression was startling for Vejiita. His eyes were open and inquisitive, the usual hostile and hard look gone, without a trace. One eyebrow was quirked up in a sort of questioning way.

"Umm, some sort of mystery.." he said off-handedly, pressing his lips together and glancing back at the page. Bulma waited for more of an answer, thinking that he had glanced at the page to find the title, but then realized he had started reading again.

She stepped in front of him. "Let me just look here.." she murmured, grabbing the corner of the cover and curling it so she could read the title. Vejiita continued reading as if she wasn't even there, even moving his hand up so she could see better. "Hm. Clive Cussler."

"He rocks my world," Vejiita said quietly, a small smile appearing on his face for a mere moment. He glanced up at her briefly before becoming serious again. His eyes, glued to the small print of the book, started moving. He was right back to reading.

This was curious. Vejiita was never one for conversation, but it was his behavior that was catching her attention. Composed, modest, and a timid approach at humor.

She smiled softly, remembering the morning two weeks ago when he had come home after his evening out. She had been so angry at him – she had immediately put him to work, telling him to carry out all the lumber that Trunks had brought in (he had been planning to make some kind of fort in the kitchen) and to drag the incinerated couch out to the dump. Then she had him accompany her to the mall to buy a new sofa, then kicked him out of the house the rest of the day to help the new, hired babysitter keep an eye on Trunks and Bra.

Vejiita had complied to all of this in his usual silent and sulky manner. And without a word of protest.

This normally would have worried her but she was too pleased at him following her directions with no complaint and too angry to really think straight. She thought back later about just how odd it was, but never brought it up. Maybe Vejiita felt guilty about leaving and letting the kids run amok. Whatever it was, she didn't dare mention it to him. She didn't know how he'd take it and didn't trust herself to handle his reaction.

She bent the cover of the book back more to read the title. "Hmm.." she murmured mostly to herself. "I used to have this book."

Vejiita's eyes snapped up. "Oh, yes.. I got it out of your room, hope you don't mind." His gaze drifted back to the page but continued talking. "I needed something good to read besides those pornography magazines. I don't get the chance to read that much."

"Porn magazines?" Bulma repeated. He held her gaze sincerely.

He nodded. "Yes. But don't worry, they're not mine." He denied owning them quickly as if he didn't want to upset her. So thoughtful. "They're just stacked up there in the closet, I haven't bothered to toss them out." He raised his eyebrows and shrugged and went back to reading.

Bulma sat down next to him, reading over his shoulder. After a few moments, she asked, "I didn't know you liked to read."

"I do," he said. "I've always liked reading."

She nodded. "Oh." She noticed he was silently staring at her. Finally he sighed, dog-eared the page he was on, and stood up.

"Do you need something?" he asked her.

She was taken aback. "Uh.. No, I'm just curious..." She trailed off. Vejiita nodded and narrowed his eyes, his attention focused totally on her. "I've just never seen you read before. I didn't think you cared to read books. Especially a book by a human," she added, recalling his normal distain of almost everything that had to do with humans. He crossed his arms and glanced back at the book.

"But it's a really good book." As an afterthought, "Is this about me taking it without asking?"

"Oh, no!"

"Because I understand. It's an intriguing book, and I'd like to finish it, but I promise to give it back when I'm done. I'm sure you'd like to reread it."

Bulma shook her head, baffled if not somewhat amused at this behavior. "No, you keep the book, Vejiita."

He frowned, but not at her giving the book to him. He pressed his lips together again and looked away. "I see," he muttered pensively. To Bulma he said, "I'm afraid you have me mixed up with someone else."

"Excuse me?" Is he messing around? Bulma thought incredulously.

He smiled a bit to himself, as if he were entertained by a peculiar thought. "I," he began, "am not Vejiita." He flashed her a mysterious wink, then whipped around, picking up his book on the way out of the living room. Bulma followed him silently until they got into the kitchen, where she reaching out and held his elbow. He froze and turned around, waiting with polite impatience for her to let go. "Yes?" he said.

"You..." she started, eyeing him suspiciously. Was he joking? Was this some prank he was pulling in order to set her off? She shook her head and frowned. The perpetually concerned expression etched faintly on Vejiita's face irked her somewhat. "Are you going to train with Gokou tomorrow?" she said instead.

Vejiita looked surprised. "No, I wasn't planning to. Why?"

She released him. His arm fell gracefully to his side and he seemed a bit more at ease. "But you've been going so well lately. Twice a week right on schedule." He stared at her inexpressively, but it was not the same purposely stoic scowl that distinguished him from everybody else. Then he nodded slowly.

"Still," he said sensibly, "I'm not planning to go tomorrow." He set his book on the table, opened up the fridge, and submerged a moment later with an apple. He took a bite and shrugged at her. "I'm sorry, but it's just not my thing. I don't enjoy it at all."



He was still sitting at the table, finishing up his Clive Cussler novel when Trunks came through the door and dumped his backpack heavily on the table. His father did not flinch; just moved a backpack strap that had fallen on his book out of the way when he was about to turn the page. A moment later, a disgruntled Trunks pulled a chair out and rummaged through his bag.

Trunks glanced at his father. He was concentrating on the book, apparently not yet having noticed the boy's presence. That in itself was not unusual; Vejiita wasn't known for shelling out his undivided attention to most individuals. His eyebrows were raised slightly, as if in he was called to attention, and at the same time pensive. "Good book, Dad?" Trunks quipped. He glanced up, nodded aloofly in affirmation, then glanced down again. He looked a bit troubled and then pushed his chair out and headed to the refrigerator. Trunks listened to him forage through the fridge for a moment more before he went back to his homework.

It was a Friday afternoon, and he wasn't sure that if his mother should walk into the kitchen this very moment, she would squeal with delight of her son doing his homework so promptly or voice her suspicions of her son's responsible behavior.

But that it was Friday also meant that his Algebra teacher gave his students plenty of weekend homework. He had plans to go to the movies and teach Goten how to play more video games before their mothers tossed any distracting devices out.

He noticed that his father had paused behind him, apparently reading over his shoulder. Slowly his hand reached out and he pressed his index finger to an equation in his notebook. Trunks glanced up at him curiously. Vejiita appeared to be thinking. He took another bite of the apple, swallowed, then spoke, in a deep, monotone voice, "That's wrong." He paused, swallowing the rest of the apple and continued. "You added the variable to both sets of numbers on this side of the equation. You're only supposed to do it to the ones also with a variable. You've made the same mistake a few times, you, ah, might want to check that."

Trunks frowned. He spent devoted his entire biology class hour doing these problems. "This one, here?" he asked, taking advantage of his father's helpful disposition. Vejiita nodded. He sat down next to him, hauling his chair nearer to his son, and set his book and partially-eaten apple aside.

"Yes, and you didn't do this word problem right either, I can tell just by the weird way this equation is set up," he added, glancing briefly at Trunks' textbook. "I can show you a fool-proof short cut for doing these," he added, a ghost of a smile brightening his serious features.

"Oh yeah?" Trunks responded, keen to the idea of getting the work done quickly with a guaranteed A. "Like how?"

Vejiita smiled and picked out a random problem and began explaining.



"I know an insane amount of mathematics," Vejiita explained after being confronted. It was Saturday morning and after Trunks had hounded his mother for money to see a movie in town, she had retaliated by demanding that at least some of his homework be completed first. She had surprised her by brandishing neat and tidy columns of math problems, and shocked her to the core by getting them all successively correct. He persuaded her that he did not cheat. Dad helped me, he told her. "You'd be surprised at how much I know," he continued.

"How much do you know?" Bulma countered. Vejiita raised an eyebrow, almost successfully hiding a look of excitement.

"By any chance," he said slyly, "have you saved any of your old high school or college textbooks? I doubt any of my old books are in any condition to be read."

"Old books?"

He nodded. "From school, as a kid." He paused. "Well, they're not mine, but no one else really looks at them. I'll go try to find one that's in one piece." He went upstairs and returned a few minutes later with a hard-back textbook under his arm. The entire thing looked like it was once water-logged, and half of the back cover was ripped off. He dropped it on the kitchen table and opened it up.

Vejiita's old math book caught Bulma's attention. She slid the book away from him and flipped through it, gazing at the long and sophisticated equations that you'd be lucky to catch sight of in a college level textbook. She gazed up at him. "You learned these as a kid?"

He shook his head. "No, not exactly." He picked at a hangnail. "I was never really kid. I came here and I automatically knew all this. I guess I'm just smart." He dropped his arm. "Someone else learned all this stuff when he was younger. The situation was, back then, purge, clean, or learn rotationally. They tried to make you a well rounded person."

"Did they?" Bulma murmured, still paging through the book.

Vejiita shrugged. "Sure. I know everything they don't."



Bulma found him later outside, asleep and curled up in a lawn chair, clutching a hardback to his chest. She hesitated to wake him. He must have slipped out of the house with Trunks while she was still drooling over his math book. Finally, she tapped him on his shoulder.

He woke peacefully, his eyes opening slowly to focus first on nothing then rolling up to look at her. He usually woke up with a jump, startled, all traces of sleep gone from his face within seconds. This afternoon he still looked drowsy after being roused.

"Yeah?" he said softly, not uncurling or sitting up.

She smiled. "Why are you outside?"

He sat up and yawned, the book sliding down onto his lap. "I don't like spending too much time inside," he confided. "I just feel... trapped after a while." He held her gaze evenly.

"I see. Are you still not going to spar with Gokou?"

He shook his head. "No, I already said I wasn't. I don't like fighting or sparring at all."

Bulma sighed, beginning to become exasperated with him again and feeling guilty about it because he wasn't being mean or anything. "Vejiita, why not? You've been going so well and have seemed to enjoy yourself. Why do you suddenly want to quit? What' wrong with you?"

Vejiita stood up. He wasn't angry. "Like I've said, I don't like fighting, and never have." He paused, but was not finished. He appeared to be thinking something over.

"You said yesterday that you weren't Vejiita," she reminded him.

"Correct. I am not," he confirmed with hesitance. "I prefer to go by the name Rhys, but you can my alias, Vejiita, if it's more comfortable for you. Rhys Williamson Schultz is the name I gave myself, fifteen years ago, in the Room of Spirit and Time. My first memories of exsistance are of that room. With that strange boy with long hair. He insisted on fighting, however, so I left till later.

"But I was often curious, so whenever that boy – another Trunks, right? – and the other guys decided to call a recess, I allowed myself to come out. These break times were short, unfortunately, and not as relaxing as they should have been. Breaks were only there to recover from yesterday's beatings and prepare for tomorrow's. I was in a constant stage of ache."

He paused again, glancing at her to make sure she was still paying attention. "Besides the pain, I didn't mind that Room too much." He glanced around. "It was big, wasn't it?" Bulma didn't answer; she didn't think he was really talking to her. He glanced back at the Capsule Corp. building, then at the territory around it. "A bit like outside, here." He stretched salubriously and continued.

"Those Cell Games. Fascinating. I loved every second of it – I'm not a fighter myself but I do enjoy the skill of the Martial Arts. I couldn't take my eyes off the fighters, not for a second. When it was all over.... The other were particularly depressed. Montgomery – he learned that strength wasn't everything. And Vejiita himself – well..." He trailed off, uncertain.

Bulma pressed, transfixed by this very strange story. "Yes, ah, Rhys... What about Vejiita?"

He sighed. "He actually tried to fight, I mean, he fought with his heart, not just to survive another day, while Cell was a big issue. That - that Kakarotto fellow died and his son defeated that monster, with almost no assistance.... I don't know what he and Montgomery were really thinking, but it just brought them crashing down.

"He whispered to himself, 'I will never fight again,' and I took over."



Note: "Rhys" is pronounced "Reese"