A cold wind blew off the dark ocean, chilling the two beings standing on the beach. The stars glimmered coldly overhead, their chill light paling by the minute as moonrise grew closer. The breaths from the two men fogged as they left their mouths, the cold of the night deepening as it grew later.
The Saiyan fought to keep from shivering; to do so in front of this slave would be humiliating, particularly as the lad didn't seem to feel the cold. The young boy stood calmly, his frame unshaken by shivers or cold bumps. The Saiyan growled under his breath again as his skin tightened more with the cold, bumps rising on his skin.
The horizon began to glow with a green light as the moon grew closer to rising. Finally, the first edge of its outermost ring broke the horizon, casting everything around in shades of green, yellow and blue. The Saiyan nearly said something, but his brother's words stopped him again, as they had all night. "It must be tough to lose your mother," Kakkarot's voice echoed sadly in his mind. "Remember how upset we were when Mother died?"
Kakkarot has infected me with weak compassion, Raditz thought angrily as he once again gave in to his absent brother's words. With a shiver, he stuck his hands under his arms while stomping his cold feet, throwing pride to the freezing winds. Why did I have to get this duty? Really, though, he knew why. His father owned the slave in question, and his commander disliked the third-class scientist's clout; not every third-class could request that a Guardsman slave-sit for him and be granted the request. The commander might have chosen Kakkarot for this duty, but Raditz had been picked because he had made soft eyes at Kiwini again, and her father, who just happened to be a friend of his commander's, had found out. So Raditz got to watch some damned slave inter his damned mother just because his father was a third-class scientist who wasn't worthy of a second-class's daughter. By all the gods, this duty was for a new guard or an idiot like Kakkarot, not a warrior of Raditz's prowess!
Glancing up at the rising moon, he noted that the top sweep of the moon's ring had cleared the horizon. Fighting to hide his chattering teeth, Raditz said, "The moon's up. Get this show on the road."
"The moon is not up yet," the boy replied, his voice as cold as the night. "Master Bardock said that I was released from my duties until after the moon is up."
Raditz winced, the movement causing his cold-tightened skin to hurt. "I know what my father said," he growled, emphasizing his relationship to the boy's owner. The boy took his eyes from the horizon at last, turning to stare at the Saiyan guarding him. Despite himself, Raditz felt his tail shiver with fear at the gaze of the boy before him; even his pride couldn't fight off the sensation that he had angered a terrible force.
"Master Bardock prized my mother above all his slaves," the boy spat out, heat burning in his voice as his anger inflamed his words. "He said that I should take all the time I needed to honor her. Do you repute his words?" The lad's tone was dangerous, and his unnatural blue eyes glinted darkly in the dim light.
Normally, Raditz would have laughed at this slave using this tone – he was always amused when they tried to act like Saiyans. But there was something about this boy, something about the way that the green and blue moon rose behind him and shadowed his features made the slave seem a terrible and awful creature. "Just do it before we freeze!" he snarled, his eyes dropping as he fought the urge to power up. It would be warmer, he told himself as he started to call the ki to himself. I'm not afraid of him! He ignored the fact that he had also backed up a step, moving away from the boy.
He nearly ran into the person behind him; only Saiyan reflexes kept him from knocking against his brother, Kakkarot. "By the gods!" Raditz snapped, trying to cover his momentary, unbecoming startle. "What are you doing here?"
"Father asked me to come down here, once he found out that you had this duty," Kakkarot answered, his voice carefully neutral. Raditz locked his face into as dispassionate an expression as he could manage; by sending Kakkarot, Father was implying that Raditz wouldn't – or couldn't – do his duty properly.
"Fine, you freeze your tail off," Raditz snarled and shot up into the air, glad to be away from the cold, cold beach. And from the frightening boy, though Raditz would never admit that the lad was anything other than strange in the head.
Kakkarot watched until his brother was gone, then moved to stand next to the boy. "Hiya, Trunks," he said, his normally cheerful voice subdued. "Are you doing ok?"
"Not really," the boy answered coldly, though he was happy that Kakkarot was there instead of Raditz. Of all the members of Bardock's family, Kakkarot was the kindest; he had taught Trunks some self-defense so that he could defend himself from other slaves, and he had been almost kind to Bulma. Trunks was sure that if Bulma could have picked one Saiyan to be at her funeral, she would have chosen the youngest son of Bardock's house.
Kakkarot sighed and dropped a friendly arm onto Trunks' shoulders, noting how cold the boy was. He struggled for the right words, not wanting to inflame the lad's already turbulent emotions, but his Saiyan upbringing didn't allow for many gentle words of comfort. Normally Kakkarot could offer visions of revenge, but that was not an option for a slave, and Kakkarot wasn't sure what he could say instead. He finally had to settle for offering his presence and his warmth on this cold night.
The moon crept higher in the sky and finally the bottom edge of the ring cleared the ocean's edge. With a shuddering sigh, the boy stepped forward, moving away from Kakkarot's warm presence. It was time; he could delay no longer.
As he held the small plastic urn, he knew that this was it – there would be no other chances for good-bye, no comforting thoughts of what he could do for his beloved mother on the night of her burial. His hands shook with cold and grief, but he secured one hand around the base of the urn, and slid his thumb under the pop-up tab. With a deft flick of his wrist, he opened the lid and stared inside.
A fine gray powder was nestled inside the plastic container and, staring down at it, Trunks felt a sudden surge of rage. A plastic urn, when she should have had an ivory tomb! Cremation, when she should have been entombed with honors! An unnoticed burial on the beach, when the entire empire should have been mourning for weeks to come! But this was all she had, and the only Saiyan here did not deserve his anger.
"Vegeta-sei looses its greatest treasure today," he said in a choked voice to Kakkarot. He hurled the open container in an arc high into the air, where the cold winds quickly grabbed the ashes and pulled them away while tumbling the urn into the sea. "We bury its queen, and nobody knows but you and me."
"I know that your mom was special to you," Kakkarot began, but Trunks stopped him with an up-held hand.
"No, not just to me," he growled angrily. "This whole fucking planet should be weeping in its knees, and we're the only ones here. We are the only ones who know."
"Come on, Trunks," Kakkarot said soothingly, gathering the boy to his side. "Let's go inside, now. You need to get warm, and to rest."
Trunks allowed Kakkarot to lead him away, and the Saiyan quickly forgot his words as grief-borne ravings. But it is said that the stars hear all things said under the night sky, and that they whisper the secrets of the night to the gods. And if the Vegeta-sei gods are one thing, all agree they are cruelly just.