Loneliness.
Mama tried to tell me I'm not alone. She talked all the time about all the good I did and all the people I saved…she tried to convince me that all the people filling the streets, rebuilding their lives, are my companions.
She doesn't understand.
Seeing the people happy…the children, who've only known terror and pain, able to smile and laugh…it musters an answering smile from my heart. And it does give me a certain happiness, a certain pride, to know that I saved them. But it can't touch this empty place inside me.
An empty place…the only way to describe my pain. A gaping hole. An aching rift in my heart, in my soul. Loneliness.
Yes, I have Mama…but it's different than that.
I went to visit Gohan the other day. It's the first time I could stand to go there…I guess I really am at peace about it now. Well…more at peace. I know I can never be fully content as long as this pain persists. I told him everything…how I finally achieved Super Saiya-jin…and then how I tested its limits. I told him about my trip to the past…seeing him as a child, finally meeting Goku. Seeing my mother young…and meeting my father, the mighty Prince of Saiya-jins. He may not have been the most caring father…but he was fierce and strong, and he made me proud to be his son.
I find myself thinking of my journey often. I felt happy when I was there—whole in a way I hadn't been since Gohan died. And I don't think it was just because of what I knew I was accomplishing. I was part of something there…part of a group of warriors. Of Saiya-jins. I wasn't alone. I felt their companionship deep inside, in the uniquely primal core of a Saiya-jin spirit. They completed me.
I had that feeling when I was training with Gohan…and the loss of it made his death even harder to bear, though I did not know at the time what the mysterious aching emptiness was.
And then, to gain it back again…It was amazing. The euphoria of it was only surpassed by the joy of meeting, face to face, Vegita, Prince of Saiya-jins. And now I have lost both again.
Gohan and Vegita. They were so different…and yet, so much alike in the place they have taken in my heart.
When I was a child, Vegita was not even a memory…just a hazy figure, rarely spoken of, even by my mother. I knew he was the reason for her nightly tears…but it was some time before I realized that she cried not about him, but for him. It took even longer for me to understand that the reason she didn't speak of him often was because of the pain his loss caused her.
Gohan, on the other hand…Gohan was a constant part of my life when I was young. He was father, brother, sensei and friend all rolled into one. Mama spoke often and fondly not only of him, but also of his father. Gohan flitted in and out of my early life as he fought the Androids. He was a warrior—confident, strong, honorable…and I admired him.
His strength and what little I did hear of my father inspired me…ignited a Saiya-jin fire in my blood that refused to be ignored. I needed to be a part of it. Anytime I heard of another battle with the Androids a surge of adrenaline rushed through me, bringing me to my feet, fists clenched. I needed to be a part of the battle, to help my friend… to avenge my father…to fulfill his legacy…
To satiate the Saiya-jin hunger that raged through my blood.
It scared Mama, I know it did. She had already lost her lover…she was terrified to lose me. She didn't want me to fight…but I had to.
The day Gohan started training me was the happiest day of my young life. Finally, I could give in to the Saiya-jin fire that drove me.
I looked up to my sensei in so many ways, and he was everything to me. He was so strong…an unshakable stability. The foundation of my day to day life…
And then my world pitched upside down.
My grief was the only thing greater than my rage when I found him…with my guilt close behind. If it hadn't been for me, he could have spent more time training. If it hadn't been for me, he wouldn't have lost his arm. If it hadn't been for me…
…he might have lived.
I was the only one left. Last of the Saiya-jins, last of Earth's defenders…and though I tried my damnedest, I couldn't defeat those monsters. I couldn't avenge the man who had been my teacher, my comforter, my friend, and the closest thing to a father I ever had….
I failed him.
And I couldn't bring myself to go to him for a long time…except the day Mama and I dug his grave. We buried him near his father…Mama said he would have liked that. I couldn't seem to feel anything except the bite of the mountain wind and the wood of the shovel under my hands.
I stayed behind after Mama left. I wanted to say something, to apologize, to swear I would avenge him along with my father, to tell him I had finally accomplished what I didn't think I could….
That last thought coaxed my voice from my throat.
"Thank you…"
I could only whisper, but into that whisper went all my feelings. Even in his death, he had given me a gift…the gift to carry on the work he started.
Thank you, Gohan.
I will never forget when I first saw him again…he was a child…I guess that surprised me. I had never thought of him as a child before. Mama was there too…so young, so beautiful, a face unmarred by tear stains, worry lines, and the dark smudges of countless sleepless nights. But one figure caught my eye above all the others.
I knew him in an instant—less than an instant. The knowledge of who he was coursed through my veins, a part of me. He showed pride in spite of that ridiculous shirt…a remarkable man, one clearly a warrior. Strong, dignified, feral…regal. A prince by blood and by character.
It sent a thrill through my soul to know this man was my father.
He didn't know me then. How could he? And even when he did know me…well, it's a good thing I wasn't still a child. He was hardly a loving father…in fact, there were times I felt sure the sight of me disgusted him. But still…I learned so much from him. So much about the art of fighting, about strength, about pride, about my birthright…about who I am.
And that subtle wave as we parted ways, that tiny mark of favor…warmed me through to my soul. I may have lost him that day…but I also gained him in a way I had never imagined possible. And he took up a place of residence in my heart and memory entwined with Gohan's. They strengthen and teach me still.
I think it pleased Mama to learn I'd met my father. She got that little smile—tinged by sadness, but glad nonetheless. I know every moment away from him eats at her soul…and I truly think I am the only reason she didn't die with him.
I heard her once…one night, when she was crying. She was calling his name, begging him to come back to her. It was the constant litany of her nights—begging the man who made her whole to come back to her so she wouldn't have to endure the pain of being apart from him. She doesn't do that anymore. Now when she speaks to him, she's calm, content.
That's why I stopped searching for a cure.
I know how sick she is. I always knew. She tried to hide it…but I knew by the way she had trouble standing, the awkward stumbling on stairs, the way she was quieter than before. I think her silence sealed the revelation more than anything…and she's only gotten quieter since all this started. She hardly speaks at all anymore…except to him. She's so pale and fragile, and her face is always pained except when she sleeps. She never goes to sleep when I'm there…but sometimes I'll leave the room and return to find her resting. It always scares me for a moment, until I notice the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
At those times, I catch a strange, vaguely familiar scent…musky and wild and strong…and I see the slight smile on her face, and I know that he comes to her, to help her sleep. My dearest hope is that when I come one day and she has finally slipped past sleep into eternity, that scent will linger on the air…and that slight smile will be on her face.
It makes her happy, I think, to know she's going to him…even if the deeds of his life took him to hell, she will still go to him, I know she will. And it will be soon. She's so weak…and then I'll be more alone than ever before.
I can't help but wonder what it will be like to be not only the last of my race, but also the last of my family. What this house will be like, drained of her presence, her warmth. How hollow and silent my life will be, without anyone who understands….
When I first thought that, I didn't know what I would do…I thought surely, I couldn't continue in the face of such hardship. To be completely alone…surely I would die….
But my Saiya-jin fire rebelled.
I told Gohan, when I went to talk to him, that Mama was dying, and that I was afraid. I told him where she wanted to be buried…next to her lover, of course. I told him that at first I hadn't thought I could carry on, just as I hadn't thought I could go on without him, just as I had thought I couldn't bear to leave the father I had only just met.
But I also told him I knew what I would do.
And I do know.
Mama will go on to be with her mate, and she will join my other teachers in my heart. Her memory will strengthen me as theirs do.
I am the last of the Saiya-jins, last of the grand warriors that proudly lived and fought among the stars. I am the son of a strong and proud woman, renowned for her brilliance. I am prince of a dead race, heir of a dead family, but I still have their memories…and their strength.
I will walk with my head held high. I will fight with all the passion and fire of my ancestors. I will make them glad to say their line resulted in me.
I will defend my home with all my strength, and, should honor demand, I will give my life for people who will most likely never know my name.
I will draw strength from those who went before me, those who taught me and shaped me: my mother, wise and loving; my sensei, brother and friend; my father, unyielding, fierce, and strong.
Though I am the last Saiya-jin, I am still a Saiya-jin, and I will not shirk my duty. I will live out my legacy with the dignity demanded of a warrior prince.
I know it is a lonely road I walk, and one with little comfort…but it is mine, and I walk it with pride.