Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.
Dark Blessing: Chapter 2
Juclesia
The night's breeze was cool. Not a crisp chill, but actually quite comfortable as it grazed past him ever so gently, as though treating him like a fragile doll. But little did it know that it needn't be, not with him of all people.
With months of experience he was able to stand absolutely still without being noticed, his dark frame hidden beneath the tree's shadows, while his eyes fed stealthily off the scene that lay before him.
Off in the distance, laughter and joy rang resonantly in the air, and the figure watched as his former "friends" as they'd called themselves, jovially conversed with one another. A particularly short one, who remained close to the house, stood resolutely despite his height, his head tilted back as genuine laughter tumbled out of him; in front of him was a much taller, his unruly locks cascading to the small of his back, his lips moving yet the words muffled by others' voices.
And a few yards away from them, another man stood, joking with his wife, his son between them with bystander's ears. His hair was mussed as well, as it always was, and the next moment he brought a sheepish hand to the back of his head.
At this particular one, the vigil eyes narrowed dangerously. Kakarrot.
It was funny, how casual and carefree they were. Did they really believe themselves safe? Safe from him? Safe from the world? It was possible it was arrogance of their inhuman abilities, or perhaps it was simply naivety that contaminated their inexperienced minds.
Soon, Kakarrot . . . soon.
In a way, the predator wasn't certain why he was even there, watching them enjoy themselves with their childish games and jokes. He considered it momentarily to be a sense of unwanted nostalgia, of recalling all those times in which he himself had been in that scene, leaning casually against the wall, joining in with an occasional chuckle here or there, even though it would be nothing more than cruel amusement.
But it didn't matter anymore. That was over.
For now he had a devious plan, a plan that presently caused a wicked smirk to claim his smooth, pale lips.
"Want something to drink, Bulma?"
Wearily, almost disoriented, the blue haired woman turned to the sudden loud voice that jarred her from her troubled thoughts; she was silently grateful for Chichi's interjection.
When Bulma didn't answer as quickly as she'd been hoping, Chichi pressed on. "Some— coffee? Soda? Beer?"
Bulma considered the options, imagining the comforting liquid on her lips and on her thick, dry tongue. "S-sure."
"What'll you have?"
"Uh— I guess some coffee would do just fine."
All went as quiet as it'd been before as the hostess disappeared from Bulma's line of sight to do her bidding. Meanwhile she sank into her previous position of when she'd drifted away from the real world, her listless gaze riveted upon the table.
It was a delayed reaction when she processed the screeching of the withdrawn chair, a sound she should have heard seconds earlier, and she looked up to find her friend patiently holding the mug out to her. Unthinking she took it gingerly from the soft, aging fingers, and set it on the table. She watched in odd fascination as wisps of steam rose hypnotically from the hot liquid.
"So how'ya dealing?" Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, yet still it had the power to alarm the depressed scientist.
"Oh—fine," Bulma lied, bringing the very edge of the mug to her pursed lips, allowing just enough access so she wouldn't feel the actual searing of the contents against her mouth.
Their was no response from Chichi.
From outside came a sudden ear piercing cackle, and Bulma turned her head just in time to see a flash of orange sprint past the window. She forced a smile onto her throbbing lips; it felt foreign and strange, as though she hadn't done it in so long. "Sounds like they're havin' fun." She forced the grin to broaden only slightly, and it felt as tight as a rubber band before it snaps. "I'm glad."
Bulma could almost feel the tension that followed this eerily delighted comment. When she turned back to Chichi, she was met with a suggestive grin. "Yamcha's out there, you know," she said, "you should go talk to him; I'm sure he'd be happy to see you."
It was difficult to prevent the following scoff. She knew her friend was doing her best to get Yamcha and her back together again; it was quite blatant. But still, she couldn't imagine ever being at that two-timer's side again. "Please—. Me and Yamucha are friends, and that's all we'll ever be. Besides, I'm sure there's a lotta blondes out there he'd much rather be with."
Chichi's smile faded, and no longer did she bother hidingherconsternation. "Bulma . . . Vegeta's gone." Her words hit Bulma so suddenly, so hard, and she felt inexplicably empty as a warm hand rested on her own for unsuccessful support. "And I'm terribly sorry; believe me when I say I know what it's like to be a widow. But you have to move on. You have to move forward in life."
How dare she! Sure, Bulma was certain Chichi had too gone through a hard time after Goku's death— multiple deaths— however,it was still none of her business with her recovery from Vegeta's. So just because her husband had died Chichi expected her to just go out into the world and find another man! Did she not think her love for the arrogant Saiyan true, true enough to have knowledge of her full allegiance to him?
Bulma's arms became tense upon the table, and in a poor attempt to shield her anger, her entire face pulled taut in bitterness. "Look, Chich'," she pressed through clenched teeth, her eye twitching, "I appreciate your concern— I really do; but I'm not going to give up on Vegeta so easily." Her burning gaze raised to meet Chichi. "I know you didn't like him that much, and I agree that he was a total ass; but I loved him, and I'm not going to move on without him just two months after his death! I mean— w-what if he's not even dead! What if he's alive somewhere!"
Chichi's stare shone incredibly steady— almost sympathetic. "Where, Bulma? How could he possibly be alive?"
Bulma's shoulders fell with her stressful sigh. She tore her gaze away from that from her friend— that sympathy that ripped through her heart; she couldn't take it. Meekly she instead focused her attentionon the dark brown liquid within her mug, and at her horrid reflection.
But she found she couldn't even bore into her own gaze, for it too was filled with that heart wrenching pity— that look that told her in unspoken words that she was nothing more than a weakling.
"I . . . don't know."
A voice had whispered to him, nagging him at the back of his mind; he knew he shouldn't have come. But as he had said, he hadn't done it consciously. Somewhere inside him he was angry with the fact that he had also hoped to see Bulma, to see those familiar strands of blue hair, and that arrogant, boastful smile that would lighten her face when among those other morons. For after all,it was true that they were far beneath her intellectually. And was it really bragging when it was the truth?
But anyway, he was getting too far from the point. Unaware of how it'd happened, perhaps from cursed nature, the short, bald one spotted him. He whirled away from his comrade when catching a glimpse of the silhouette beneath the tree, and began to shout in instinctual panic. Soon the taller one turned as well, and then Kakarrot.
Damn.
Well, he guessed that was his cue to leave.
Furtively he leaped through the damp leaves and into the night air, while below he hearkened to the bellows which were now crescendoing with growing confusion.
And it wasn't long until gasps rose amid the small crowd. Soon they were yelling his name, the name he hadn't heard in what felt like eternity— the name which he himself had nearly forgotten.
Vegeta.
Blast that Kakarrot. Even with his honed skills the other Saiyan still possessed that strange, unpredictable agility, and in the next instant he was inches away from his longtime rival. Vegeta scowled, and attempted to push past him.
But Kakarrot wouldn't let go so easily. He grabbed his shoulders before he had the chance, holding him in place as he shot him that familiar glare of mixed anger and concern that he so despised.
"Vegeta! It really is you! What happened to you! Y-your ki! It's g-gone!"
Vegeta only grunted in response, roughly tearing away from the grip. "Get away from me, Kakarrot!"
His enemy once again boldly blocked his path. "Why are you fighting me, Vegeta! I'm trying to help!"
The idiot! He would never change, would he? With clenched fists Vegeta released a feral growl of frustration. "Persistent fool!" he hissed. "Leave me be!"
Determined, almost desperate, the Prince waved a swift arm, thrusting Kakarrot several feet back by a mighty gust of wind. He then took that second to abscond higher into the sky, and soon after he heard voices from behind him, from the others taking flight to assist Kakarrot.
"What's all the noise about?" Chichi wondered aloud after having her conversation with Bulma drowned out by the incoherent shouts from outside.
Alert, Bulma's head snapped to the window, her eyes wide and her ears attentive.
Were they shouting . . . Vegeta?
Before she had meant to do so, she bolted from her chair, ignoring the sentence Chichi called out to her as she ran out through front door and into the rain. It pelted down upon her, soaking her clothes, ice cold against her skin, but she didn't care. Frantically her eyes darted around the yard, halting upon the cluster of forms in the sky.
There was Yamcha. Krillin. Goku. Tien. Chaozu; Puar. But no Vegeta.
Unconvinced, Bulma continued to scan the surroundings. She almost did a double take when seeing another distant figure, much higher in the sky, his side profile statuesque against the clouded moon, his head inclined against the rain.
Vegeta.
In that moment, as if he had heard her, his head turned in her direction, and even though she couldn't see his eyes, she could almost feel his intent stare; she knew he was staring right at her.
And just like that, he vanished,
leaving Bulma alone in the rain to hopelessly ponder what she'd just witnessed.
A/N: okay, for those of you who may be confused at all: this is taking place somewhere in between the end of the cell games and when the buu saga occurs. Now I know in the series, Goku is dead at this time, but in this story, I'm making it so that he was brought back to life
What happened to Vegeta that's estranged him from the others?What is his plan?Andwhat about Bulma? All your questions will be anwsered.But in the meantimePLEASE REVIEW! Give me 9 reviews or more, and I'll get started right away on the next chap. Thanks.
