LEAPING MOUNTAINS
written by State Hopper
CHAPTER EIGHT
(Flash backs written in Italics)
"Jesus Christ Vegeta! Your son's up there!" Buckling every available joint a stranger stared back at me, where from behind green eyes he became something else, something removed from what we had built. Gathering at my fingers fear raged from within, fear for something other than myself. "Don' chu, not our home, not here..." words quivered "Please." Advancing like a mobile weapon, I was approached by a creature who snarled at every sound I made. I saw it then, the face of someone who use to be there. He was isolated in that second, detached without corporeal emotion... that man from over eleven years ago.
Lowering his hand, Vegeta slowly, like a stretching cat, withdrew toward the weight room. I'd asked myself for months upon years how Vegeta, a man who had raped the universe into a bloodied heap, could be loved so unconditionally.
Standing out beneath the porch light, I watched as Trent waved goodbye from the yards edge. Would I have done the same for him, would I have risked it all for him? "I never said thanks and well, that I never forgot you... I tried, it made it easier to believe that I was dead. I know y---" I stopped "I hope you're... happy."
"I'd be happier if you came home."
"I am home." That night, studying Track's small profile I wondered, if I woke... would I remember him? Would I know that he had ever existed, that I'd been a mother.
Two days had passed, and already I wondered if it had all really happened, if perhaps Trent was the lie. Today was Sunday and what a glorious day it was, just the way Sundays were meant to be. The tournament had arrived. I had never been to the northern part of the city before. I arrived alone, as Track had stayed at the Son's the previous night. Sighing into the heat of the morning, I wound my way between a collection of manufactured bodies and designed personalities, beginning to wonder what it all meant. For if indeed this was all inside my head, did that mean that they were all parts of me? Stopping in the shade of the ticket office, I watched a pair of red cloaked monks discuss the contents of their clip boards.
"Excuse me?" Spoke a thin faced man. "You look familiar, Capsule Corporation right?"
"Oh, do you work for the Briefs?"
"No, I'm a friend of Yoshida's" he adjusted his dark rimmed glasses "I think I meet you once before, it was a Christmas party. You attended with your husband right, caused quiet a fuss..." The so called 'Christmas party' was one night in particular that I would prefer no one remembered. It was three days before Christmas, roughly two year ago. Bulma's husband, Yoshida Yohei, had invited quite a number of his colleagues, as had the Brief's their investors. In my finest evening gown, Vegeta escorted me suitably attired; though proceeding to spend most of his time out on the balcony nursing a single glass of wine.
Things began to go sour at around midnight. The man's name was Ken Marshall, a former associate of Yohie. Out on the ballroom floor, I was drunkenly spun around the room. I recall catching Bulma's expression from beside the buffet table, a look of pure embarrassment. Clutching at my pounding head, I remember trying to pull away, between the laughs and excuses. I'm still not sure how long Vegeta had been watching, either way Ken ended up inside the nearest plastered wall. Vegeta just stood there, retracting his finger as if it were the plainest thing in the world. Almost two years later and I am still in debt to Vegeta's momentary retreat from his usual stoic self.
Pushing the memory back within the dark box inside my head, I squinted up into the face of that I had no recollection. "Look, I'm sorry, but I really must be going, my son's competing."
"Oh, what's his number?"
"I don't know yet, which is why I must be going. It was nice to meet you Mr?"
"Sakamoto, but you can call me Toshio."
"I'd rather stick with Sakamoto if you don't mind." I stopped "look if you see Yohei, give my wishes." Dipping his head, Mr. Sakamoto smiled.
"Look I hate this cloak and dagger business..."
"Wha'd you mean?"
"I'm a counselor, I mostly work with couples." He produced a shiny white business card. "I was told that you would probably oppose the idea"
"Blasted busy bodies!" he retracted his hand "Sorry you've been misinformed Mr. Sakamoto, if any one needs counseling its the damn Yoshida's, they've obviously to amuse themselves elsewhere!"
"Please don't be angry. They'd good intentions Mrs. Vege-"
"It's Henderson! And I am not angry, I'm furious!"
"Please I didn't mean to offend, please, take my card... my number's there if you wish to talk, free of charge. A friend of Yohei's..." I stared at him "Is a ... friend of mine."
"I know you're only doing your job, but I don't need any help. Sorry to've wasted your time Mr. Sakamoto but I'm late, if you'll excuse me" gesturing lightly, Mr. Sakamoto stepped aside for the shade to become a welcoming companion inside the under thirteen's changing block. Glancing back over my shoulder, the tall man who I 'd no previous memory, disappeared into the glare of sunlight.
"Did you ever consider the fact that this is a good thing, I'm not saying cut him out entirely, but ... you've been like this for years, everyone knows it. We expected him to leave years ago, I'm surprised it's lasted this long."
"It was about Goku..."
Bulma sighed at me "when is anything not about Goku,"
"We kissed... Vegeta found out, that's why this all happened." I caught the tightening in her shoulders and clench of fists.
"You damn fool!" She erupted "Ardin why!"
"I know it was stupid, I was in a weird place, don't accuse me! I told you because I need help, your not helping!" exhaling heavily, I turned away from her.
"Did you sleep with him?"
"No! Of course I didn't."
"Well I dunno', you did kiss him."
"God, maybe it would've been better. It would've been a direct end to all of this. Perhaps I would've at least ended up with someone, instead of this, you and a kitchen table. Not that he'd leave her, not that I'd want him."
Standing up, Bulma lifted her handbag from the counter "If I'm honest," she looked down at me "you got exactly what you deserved... down to the letter."
"Mom! Mom this is for boys, you're a girl... you have to go!"
"I wanted to see if you needed any help?"
"I'm almost eight, I can do it myself." Dismissing the tone in his voice, I knelt down.
"You ready Goten?"
"Yup! My dad say's I'm ganna' win, cause I'm a Super Saiya-jin!"
"Don't be stupid. So am I" Track hopped off the bench.
"But I'm older."
"That doesn't matter." Pulling at my son's hand, he quickly tugged it free, I tired to ignore the blatant rejection but it was a hard thing to disguise. The room was small, benches and lockers, a desk and door behind us. Standing up I pushed back the hair from my face. A man was to the left of me, overseeing a pair of twin boys, which I only assumed were his son's. He nodded at me and I nodded back. The noise from the stadium had started to build, accompanied by the ruckus of a local brass band.
"Honey, your father's fighting today. Are you looking forward to seeing him? He's missed you."
"I know you're lying." he tugged at his boot.
"Excuse me," I caught movement as the only accompanying adult left the room. Waiting for the door to close, I continued. "Track why would you say that?"
"Go away!" Watching his little white and blue Gi disappear down the corridor, with more of his father present than there would ever be of me, Goten tugged at my pants.
"He didn't even wanna' play with my new toy. It's an insectabot.. Dad gave it to me, 'cause he said I deserved it, but I don't know why really?"
"That's nice honey. Where is everybody?"
"By the mayors box, my mom asked me to see her there. It's red and blue she said."
Running down toward the building's front entrance, Goten waved at me with a certain level of urgency. "I'm coming, I'm coming." Verging upon the stadiums interior, thousands upon thousands of people were screaming, yelling, and laughing like a human ocean. On stage was a young woman, singing a song I didn't recognise. I couldn't see her face but assumed she was pretty, especially by the way the announcer was smiling. Shielding my eyes from the sun, Goten shouted from out beneath an erected blue umbrella. At the entrance to the Mayors box were two armed guards, hands plastered at their sides and eyes set low beneath their helmets. Down toward their left was a small courtyard and building restricted to competitors. At the widely constructed front entrance, stood a short and slightly robust monk. In his hand was a small wooden clip board containing what I only assumed were competitors names.
"Name please?"
"Oh I'm not entered..."
"This area is restricted to competitors only."
"I know. I'm just looking after Son Goku's boy." He stared at me for a second "Son Goten, he's competing. I'm Mrs. Henderson." Browsing over his few available pages, the man's dark eyes lifted.
"You say you didn't enter?" His manner shifted. "But here you are on my list, though you didn't collect your number?"
"Ah, mistake, it was a joke, pretty lame. Just rub me off if you can. Er, I know it's an odd question but could you tell me who's arrived? I mean either Son Goku or Vegeta." Lifting up his clip board the man shrugged before answering.
"Son Goku arrived shortly before you, now Vegeta, is that a first or last name?"
"Both I suppose."
"…mmm… no, no I don't have him yet. Would you like me to have someone inform you when he arrives?"
"Oh no it's okay. I was just curious that's all." Smiling again, the man signaled me ahead. Inside the building the air was cool and refreshing, the scent of mint and thyme fighting one and other for superiority. Removing my shoes, I crossed toward the main lounge, Goten had already disappeared, my work was done. The foyer was quietly busy with polite nods, light conversation and rather sophisticated points of argument. I was pleasantly surprised, though I suspected that they were not competitors at all. Heeding a voice to my right, two blue eyes launched into sight.
"Eighteen? You're competing?"
"Why wouldn't I."
"Well. Okay sure." Catching something red in my peripheral vision, attention was shifted toward a set of slim windows facing toward the garden. "When did this start?"
"About ten minutes ago, but whatever it's about they're not making much sense."
"Wha'd you mean?" Goku stopped talking the moment I asked the question, I often forgot what little sound proofing Japanese architecture provided. There was a unmistakable tint of pink to his cheeks, leading me to believe that whatever Bulma had said had bit him to the bone. I watched Goku leave at that point, via the ivy laced gateway to his left, Bulma following suit with about as much compassion as a box of nails.
"Have you done something wrong?" Eighteen inquired, my lack of response spurned further questioning "why didn't you say anything? You moved out right..." I winced inside "I'm sorry... really, but from my experience most things end well enough, if you work at it. " For a synthetic, Eighteen was sometimes the most human.
I managed to find Goku up on the viewing deck. We had not spoken since the parent-teacher evening last Thursday. Even when Track spent the night it'd been arranged by Chichi. She'd smiled when I arrived, and I knew that her suspicions had been confirmed; her marriage had been better. His elbows were dug hard into the wooden banister when I arrived, right leg stooped and mind swimming with obvious regret. Approaching with the slightest of hesitancy, I rested in the area beside him. He glanced at me briefly, both eyes low set and expression somewhat heavy. "I had to tell her Goku... everything just went to hell."
"It's okay. She just told me what was true, I didn't want to hear it."
"Wha'd she say?"
"It doesn't matter," It wasn't often that I had a 'conversation' with Goku, sure we spoke a lot but it wasn't what I would class as deep and meaningful, but at moments like this the seriousness to his voice was enough for me to see him as something undeniably human. "Look I know you think I'm an idiot sometimes..." he tapped the balustrade "but I know what I did, I know I've come off easy… this wasn't meant to be game." I didn't want to discuss 'intentions' with Goku, or the fact that anything had ever occurred, it was a section of conversation that made me uncomfortable to stand next to him. The memory of his touch was still too fresh, waiting there at the back of my head. The heat of his breath on my neck and pressure of his hands. Folding my arms upon the banister, a flock of birds swept over our heads to break apart the sunlight.
"Have you seen Vegeta?"
"I saw him."
"I think his exact words were 'Come Sunday, that idiot will be dead.'"
"I owe him the chance."
"What?"
"I got myself into this, I'll get myself out... and besides, we were drawn." Turning to face him I didn't quite know how to respond. To be loyal to my husband or to warn my friend. "Don't worry..." he smiled at me "I know what I'm doing." I left Goku at that point, it felt as if there was nothing left to say, our brief but complex interaction from a week ago was over. Weaving a path through the bodies of this world I ducked into the nearest alley for a little respite. I didn't want to be here, I wanted to go home with my son home and try to repair our family. Eighteen was right, if you want things to work out you had to work at it. Quickening my pace to match the band's thunderous and approaching beat, I squinted into the light at the end of the ally way. Stopping at the edge of public reach, I relished my escape of the summers heat for a few more seconds.
I smelt him before I heard him. That familiar scent of after shave and workout sweat. "Get out of my way." It was almost breathed into my neck. I didn't want to turn around, it was easier to say what I had to say without analysing his expression. So I simply kept both my hands against the stone, attempting at a feeble blockade.
"Will you hear me out."
"I don't give a damn what you have to say."
"I've missed you..."
"That's your problem." I could hear the stone gritting beneath his boots, ankles twisting in what I assumed was in an effort to leave. Dropping my arms I turned around to face him, and he just stared at me, dead cold.
"Vegeta, You've never managed the kind of strength to be there for us."
"What are you talking about?!"
"This isn't strength, this is a vendetta." I had always thought it best to just get along, to agree rather than to create a fuss and come off equal. I loved him, with my every thought and action I did, but it wasn't enough. Looking up at him, I made my decision. "When this tournament is over, I am moving Track and I back home. You can stay, or you can leave. You know I still love you, but I won't do this anymore. I made a mistake, a big one, one I might never live down, but if we can't get over it then we may as well just stop because there's no hope of getting over anything else." I watched his shoulders tense "You've a wonderful son, this wasn't his mistake and I'll do whatever to make sure that he doesn't pay for it. We can still be happy, and I want to believe that you can forgive me..." I paused, considering my next string of words "I want you to battle him, you've always wanted it. He knows his limits, and if he dies; he chose to. It was his choice." I was just stared at for a second, an unreadable expression that I didn't understand. Stepping forward he reached for my neck and I flinched, a reaction I regretted making. Pulling back, I watched him walk away.
TO BE CONTINUED...
AUTHORS NOTE: Thanks to the small amount of readers that have kept coming back! Boring business if you didn't!
