LEAPING MOUNTAINS
- written by State Hopper.

CHAPTER NINE
(Flash backs written in Italics)


The next hour proceeded without incident. The younger entrants fought and as expected Track and Goten wound their way to one and other. Track won. I hadn't managed to spot Vegeta amongst the spectators, yet I liked to believe that he had watched, winning was one of the few things he understood. For years, we (his family) had felt judged by it, our worth measured by what he deemed worthy. From the smallest test of character to larger feat of strength, everything was a war with him. Who was stronger, smarter, better, and yet over the years we had developed a sort of crooked harmony. Somehow it worked, somehow we managed, well... had managed.

"Hey" Eighteen emerged from the space at my back. Dead ahead of us, amid the clamor of an enthusiastic crowd, Gohan stood centre stage. He was smiling, a sort of nonchalant smile that would have annoyed anybody faced with the prospect of hitting him. Watching the host sweep a hand out toward the crowd, cheers reached a triumphant and thundering peak.

"It's true right?" Eighteen's voice slid into the day "about Goku." My stomach knotted the moment she spoke his name and I knew it had crept up over my face, along with that familiar cool slide of shame.

"It's not so straight forward. Not like you think." I wanted to say something cruel, something that would get a rise out of her, because in all honesty I was beginning to feel like the only person in this whole damn world that was conflicted. Perhaps I just craved the friction, the complexity and punishment of being truly human. Eighteen left before I managed any sort of formal explanation. She didn't say much, and in a strange way I was pleased by her irritation. Heading back toward the changing rooms, my head echoed the day.

The door was unlocked when I reached home, after removing his shoes Track went directly upstairs to his room. We had eaten out, stopping at a pizzaria on our way home. Dumping my purse on the kitchen counter all four walls enveloped with a lack of family warmth. I was tired, my body had only just now managed to release itself of its own worrying thoughts. Goku and Vegeta's battle had began at 11.30am that day; it had lasted six hours and twenty odd minutes, shifting to the outer rangers once the tournament ring was destroyed. I had felt compelled to observe from a distance, from beside Piccolo who thankfully remained in a near state of silence. No body at any point expressed a fear for either man's life. I think we were all aware that this was the moment that both men had been either consciously or subconsciously heading toward all their lives. It wasn't an all mighty blast that took Goku down, though he himself delivered a few, it was a simple strike during hand to hand combat. Vegeta left shortly thereafter, saying not word to anyone... he didn't need to. I tried to imagine what thoughts would have been coursing through Vegeta's head, if Goku felt pleased, disappointed, or a bit of both.

Lying in bed that night I stared at the ceiling from within the grey darkness. Rolling my body over to his side of the bed, I heard Vegeta enter. My body rocked as he lowered his weight down onto the bed, fully clothed and hot against my back. "He wouldn't stop talking about you." I finally spoke, "Did you see Dad, he did this, he did that..." I reiterated "Wee thing was pretty chuffed." Huffing in acknowledgment Vegeta adjusted his pillow an after some time, he responded.

"Kakarott's not to enter here again. Due not to that nonsense but because I have nothing more to take from him. He has been beaten, he is insignificant to me now." Glancing across my shoulder, I rolled over.

"I can't promise that Vegeta, yes I'm sure he won't visit any time soon but I will have to see him again. Whether at a school function, a friend's birthday or something equally domestic... I won't lie and say 'yes, never again'." Furrowing his brow, Vegeta moved his head to stare dead into the ceiling fan. "I love you..." I continued. "but all get one do-over right... can't this be mine." Looking across at me, I saw the corner of his mouth hook upward.

"Hmph... what would be worth the trade" he smirked "this can be yours."


Goku and Vegeta would never regain their friendship, or tolerance as Vegeta said, and perhaps that was best. We didn't collect Vegeta's winnings, because as rules state the battle mustn't leave the ring. Yet with Tracks small bundle, we moved from Capsule corp, and brought a small house on the southern side of town, basically as far from the Briefs and Son's as possible. I got another job, and began night classes and Red Ruby college for older learners.

Vegeta changed after Goku's defeat. He had won. He was the known best, and Goku had acknowledged the fact. I told Vegeta I was pregnant five weeks following his victory. At first he seemed oblivious to the idea of another child, though slowly through careful nudging he began to change face. I hoped for a girl, and proposed that we call her Lane; keeping with spirit of things.

Today would have been our ten year anniversary.

Vegeta died on June 31st; five months following the tournament and along with everybody else.

Four weeks after I awoke, I could still hear his voice. My hands were pale and thin, and I'd feel my heart stop for just a moment. I hoped I would die. The embolism (as Trent informed) had left me paralyzed on the right side, Vegeta would have laughed and said that it was human problem, I would walk again. At night, I could hear Track's foot steps down the hall, running in to see me, to hug me, to call me his mum. I felt numb, as if all that I had once been was sucked out and gone. I woke to find my stomach flat and gaunt, my baby dead with the rest of them. Trent visited often, and called me pet names; like beautiful, treasure and sweetie. I couldn't muster the energy to be 'me' for him, to be what he wanted. I moved into a small house in Wellington and was granted an aid nurse for the first few weeks.

To this day, I still see Vegeta's face behind my eyelids, and though he may look like blocks of ink, nobody truly understands what he really is. I see no pictures of Track, and as I lie in bed at night I form his face over and over in my head, terrified that I might forget him...

All I want, is to be real again.

The End.