Vegeta's Cat Chapter 2: Birthday, a dragon ball z fanfic

Vegeta's Cat

Disclaimer: DBZ & all its characters are the creation of Akira Toriyama. This is a work written by a fan to honor Mr. Toriyama and no copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made, etc.

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Chapter Two

The Saiyan Prince growled deep in his throat as yet another youngster came too near his feet. Sniveling rodents! They are beneath my son. Every bit of self-control the warrior had was focused on keeping his rage in check. Stupid commoners! Vegeta thought as he glared at the children. His hands itched with the desire to blast them all to Kami. Unfortunately, Bulma had already warned him not to vaporize any of his son's guests. Sighing deeply, he considered whether the hell to pay that evening would be worth the satisfaction.

"PRESENTS…PRESENTS…PRESENTS!" The chant roused the Prince out of his musing. As the mob of five year old children focused their attention on the reason for the party, the sound doubled in volume. At the head of the table, Trunks beamed with pride. The boy held his head high and grinned at the enormous stack of gifts on the table. Cake, ice cream, and drinks were quickly forgotten, and the horde of children hastily sat around the birthday boy who was brimming with excitement.

"Mine! NO, MINE! Pick MINE…" The squealing children pleaded. The lavender-haired princeling smirked. Even at five, his Saiyan blood enjoyed the feeling of power. Examining the boxes and gift bags, he chose the most gaudily wrapped one and eagerly tore it open. "Ooh…a game console…" The small voices breathed. Trunks flashed a brilliant grin at the guest who brought the present and grabbed the next-closest box to continue the unwrapping. Laughter and squeals filled the air as each gift was unwrapped. After the mountain of gifts had been opened, Bulma walked over to her son and handed him a large package. "Trunks, honey, last but not least, this is from your father and I…"

Before she could finish, Vegeta snarled, "Woman, do NOT lie to that child! The gift is from you and you alone!" Turning to his son, he continued. "BOY, make no mistake. These stupid trinkets are all WORTHLESS, and I will NOT disgrace myself with them. THAT gift is from your mother…NOT me." Turning on his heel, he walked away from the shocked party-goers and into the house.

Trunks fought back tears as Bulma hastily tried to smooth things over. "Baby, I know you're going to love this…" She unpacked a brand-new remote controlled air speeder. "OOOHs" and "AAAHs" replaced the shocked whispers of the crowd when the scientist powered up the vehicle and sent it flying over the children's heads. Bulma dazzled the children with the toy, and then turned to her son. When she offered the boy the control box, he sullenly refused to touch it.

Noting the awkwardness, the child's grandmother, Mrs. Briefs, broke the tension by calling out: "It's time for water games everyone!" Five-year-old attention spans are notoriously short, and the Saiyan's display was forgotten as soon as the water trampoline hit the pool. Bulma shot her mother a grateful look, and gently pulled her son into a hug. Behind her, Chi-Chi walked up and offered an encouraging pat. Her son, Goten, stepped out from behind his mother's skirt and tugged on Trunks' arm. Offering the birthday boy a lopsided grin, he pointed to the pool.

In a flash, the two children headed towards the water, troubles temporarily forgotten. When the boys were out of earshot, Goku's wife spoke up. "I don't see how you put up with him."

Shaking her head, Bulma replied, "Neither do I."

Chapter Three:

After all the guests had gone home, a small lavender-haired boy sat alone on his balcony. Tears streaked down his face, and he stared wordlessly at the edges of the Capsule Corporation compound. His mother knocked at the door of his room, but he ignored her. His Saiyan pride asserted itself even at this early age.

An hour later, sounds of a bitter argument drifted up into the early evening air. The end of the fight was obvious when the angry duet was replaced by the solo voice of his mother hurling curses at the now silent Saiyan Prince. This was nothing new; Vegeta and Bulma were renowned for their famous spats. Trunks could sense, though, that somehow this was different. This time, he thought, it's about ME.

Instinctively, he tensed as his senses registered the ki force of his father. The boy quickly dried his tears; he would never dishonor himself by allowing Vegeta to see him cry. A soft tap was the only indication that the elder Saiyan had arrived on the balcony. Steeling himself, Trunks stood proudly before his sire. "Boy," the Prince began. "It is well past time for you to begin training. It is disgraceful for a Saiyan warrior to begin training so late, but your mother would have none of it until now. Come." With that command, Vegeta grabbed his son and flew off into the approaching sunset.

The pair arrived at a secluded place in the wilderness. Deep shadows heralded the approaching night, and the boy was slightly anxious wondering what his father had planned. "Attack me." Vegeta said simply.

"Wha…What?" The boy replied.

"Are you deaf? I said ATTACK me!" The elder Saiyan shouted.

Something in the boy's nature responded to the challenge, and a new thrill, the thrill of the fight, coursed through his system for the first time. Trunks let loose a wild yell and jumped at his father. Surprise and pain cut the cry short, and the young warrior found himself several feet away lying on the ground.

"Pitiful!" Vegeta spat. "I know you can do better than that, child. TRY AGAIN!"

Trunks shook his head, took a deep breath, and charged his father another time. As before, he found himself flat on the ground before he knew what had happened. This time, he got angry. Vegeta smirked when he sensed the rise in the boy's ki. "Think you can do better this time, brat?" He scoffed.

A growl rose from the pit of Trunks' stomach, and without warning, he threw himself at the object of his pent-up anger. Fists flashing, he landed a flurry of punches to the Prince's midsection. The boy howled with rage at the resulting laughter.

A few minutes of unrelenting attack later, Vegeta spoke: "Enough boy, I can see that your Saiyan blood is strong enough to overcome the pitiful human taint. You will begin formal training tomorrow morning. Be prepared, I am not an easy master." Still resentful, the boy snorted at his father's words. "One last thing, child." The Prince said. "Although a true Saiyan does not need any weapon other than his body, the human contamination of your system may require you to have some 'assistance' until you reach your full potential."

From some unknown place in his body suit, Vegeta pulled out a scabbard and held it out to the boy. The covering was dark and ornately carved with intricate designs. It was almost as long as the child was tall. With awe, Trunks pulled the blade out and it flashed in the starlight. Only the young warrior's exceptional strength enabled him to hold the sword upright. "Are you trying to catch bugs, child?" Vegeta mocked. Trunks shook his head and then realized that his mouth was hanging open.

"Th…Thanks, Dad." The boy stammered.

Vegeta took the boy by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. "Son, I am the Prince of all Saiyans, and you are my heir. Never forget that. You are royalty, and you deserve honor. Do NOT settle for less."

Trunks lowered the sword and took a steadying breath. Suddenly, he understood why his father had behaved like he did at the party. "Those people," he said. "They were not proper company for a prince." It was not a question.

Vegeta stared at his son, a new respect blossoming in his eyes. He nodded in reply, and took his only child by the arms. "That," he said, eyes pointing to the sword, "is a gift worthy of a prince. Learn to use it well."