It sounded foreign, even to him.
Urgency laced Vegeta's voice, a deep cutting pain that reverberated from all sides of the arena. The battle broken Z Fighters watched in disbelief. At the sight of her death, Vegeta's badly damaged body became stiff. Pushing himself up with the last thread of strength he had left, he hobbled to her. His legs wobbled and weaved, and he fell to his knees before he reached her. Crawling the rest of the way, he grabbed onto her lifeless arm.
"Vegeta," Gohan whispered. Vegeta grabbed his daughter's body from Gohan's arms, laying her down into the ring and desperately reading for a ki. Nothing. She was lifeless. He knew the moment the beam had hit her head that the light that shined around her had dimmed.
The darkness had never seemed so terrifying.
"No…" he whispered. "No."
Removing his gloves, he shoved his hands into hers, practically begging for a reaction. It was a useless endeavor. There was no light in her eyes, no pink on her cheeks. Gently he ran his fingers to her neck to check her pulse, examining her face even closer now.
Had he ever noticed that she had a widow's peak like him? Had he ever noticed the freckle under her right eye? The way her nose was pointed right at the tip, or the softness of her bright blue hair?
How could he have missed those things? Why had he treated her so poorly? She grew up without a father, alone in a volatile future where hope was the only buoy of survival. All she wanted when she came to this time was to save it, to accomplish something the Vegeta of her time could not. And beyond that, when she came to this time she had an opportunity to experience something she had never felt before: The satisfaction of meeting someone who haunted her dreams with his absence.
All she wanted was a father who loved her, who was proud of her.
And he was proud. Looking at her, he couldn't help but feel pride. He felt that long before now. He never told her because he was arrogant and cruel. Back in the time chamber, there was a moment where the wicked coil around his soul unfurled for just a moment during their training, and he let in a soothing sense of understanding. What bubbled underneath his skin was the feeling he felt with Bulma: comfort and understanding and weightlessness.
When they emerged from the chamber, he wanted to bottle that feeling and drink it, let it satiate a hunger he had been grappling with since the day he was taken from his father. But old habits die hard, and instead of reaching for her, he lashed her with his callous words.
He pushed away love because he didn't understand it, but now as he studied her lifeless face, it was like seeing color for the first time.
Love ignites a flame that burns so bright it makes the world turn faster—it's technicolor, loud, unabashed, and unashamed. Love creates a thirst so intense and deep that it can only be quelled by diving headfirst into a river that runs wild. She may only have had a part of him, but he was everything to her.
Bravery takes many forms. Her sacrifice made her a warrior, but her ability to love so freely in spite of the pain she endured was what made her brave.
Salty tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Bulla," he whispered. "Bulla, I am sorry. I'm so sorry."
He pushed her lifeless body against his. Her limp limbs hung away from him, her blood had gone cold. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deeply.
What was it Gero had said to him at the lab? He had asked whether his daughter knew of the evil man Vegeta was—of the evil things he had done. Gero had wanted Vegeta to see the evil inside himself, to make him feel unworthy and incapable of stopping Cell.
Little did Gero know, though, that while Vegeta was those things, it wasn't going to be Vegeta who ended it. It was her. It was always her. Vegeta had a strong body and a strong mind, but he lacked what Gohan and Bulla had that allowed them to overpower Gero and Cell: strong hearts. Defeating him was never about who could best him in a physical feat, it was about who could decipher a twisted man's revenge and believe in themselves enough to end it.
Vegeta's mouth was bone dry. Gero and Frieza truly were the same: Two megalomaniacs who wanted nothing more than to control others for sport. If Cell was literally created at the hands of Gero, Vegeta was figuratively made by Frieza. Without Frieza, what kind of man would Vegeta have become? What kind of soldier would he have been? What kind of lover? Father?
Cell had chosen his fate. He walked in the shadow his creator had cast upon him. Vegeta chose a different path. Cell's life and death unlocked an understanding in Vegeta that he was no longer the person he used to be. He was a new man—one who wanted peace and one who desired love.
It's what made him hate himself for talking to Bulla the way he did. It's what made holding her in his arms now so difficult.
"I've changed," he whispered to her. "Please come back to me. I've changed."
"Vegeta," Gohan's soft voice snapped him from his trance. "Bulla...I…"
"Shut up!" He seethed. "Just shut up!"
The others had slowly come to join them, congregating in a sprawled out circle around the grieving Vegeta. Gohan surveyed the others: Everyone looked battle worn, but it was clear they had a mournful sense of relief. Even Hercule had come with them, a trickle of blood like a river running down his head.
The others shifted in silence.
Goku limped over to where Vegeta held her, and knelt to be by his former foe. He rested a hand on his shoulder, and surprisingly Vegeta accepted it.
"The dragon balls," Vegeta said hoarsely. "We have to get the dragon balls and bring her back to life."
Goku shook his head. "We can't," he sounded somber. "Piccolo and Kami, they're one now. There are no dragon balls."
Vegeta quickly shifted his weight, pulling his hands from Bulla and grabbing onto the collar of Goku's shirt. "Well you better find some damn way to bring her back!" He leaned into Goku, his eyes bloodshot and his face pale. "You better do something about this!"
"There's nothing we can do, Vegeta," Goku shored himself against the Saiyan prince and put his hands over Vegeta's. "She's gone."
Vegeta tossed Goku away and got to his feet. He parted the group and paced the line of the trench, his anger seething inside him like an open flame. There had to be a way to bring her back—he knew there just had to be.
Behind him, Vegeta sensed footsteps. He whipped his head around to see Hercule standing there looking at him with a pathetic gaze. His eyes were heavy, already brimming with tears, and his arms hung at his sides like someone paralyzed from sadness. Vegeta had not paid much attention to him during the fight, but regarding him now, he wondered whether this simple man really thought he stood a chance against the deadliest threat the Earth had ever faced.
Hercule looked almost contrite as he gently walked toward Vegeta, bridging the gap he had placed between himself and the other fighters. They all looked on with confusion and concern, but none stepped forward to stop him. Maintaining a few feet between them, Hercule finally came to a stop.
"I heard them say it was your daughter," he said softly. "During the fight."
Vegeta's eyes lasered in on him and cast a menacing glare. He did not nod nor did he move at all. Instead he waited for Hercule to speak again.
"I was so scared today," he said before clearing his throat. Another long pause drifted between the two of them. "I thought that it wasn't going to be like this."
"What do you want?" Vegeta spat. Hercule swallowed and nodded his head.
"I have a daughter too," he said softly. "And I...she's part of the reason I came here today-part of the reason I thought I could save us all from Cell."
Vegeta studied Hercule once more. He was tall and hefty, sturdy in a way that Vegeta assumed made him strong for a simple man. He transposed himself on Hercule, wondering if he was a good man or a bad one. He wondered if he loved his wife, if he gave his daughter the time of day. Did he peel back his layers of toughness to let anyone in, or was he just as callous as Vegeta?
"I guess what I'm trying to say is," Hercule sounded as if he were about to cry. "I'm sorry."
A gust of air cut across the field, whipping up dust between the two men. Hercule cast his eyes down and began fiddling with his fingers, but Vegeta looked on. No one had ever spoken to him like this before. No one had ever apologized for the misfortunes Vegeta faced, and the words tugged at his stomach in a way that made him uncomfortable.
For a moment, he considered sending a ki blast at the simpleton. Underneath his sadness was a thick layer of rage. He could tap into it and go on a destructive spree like he was known to do, but then he saw Bulla's face begging him not to, and his shoulders relaxed. He could still hear her voice drifting in his mind.
Before he had a chance to decide, Goku and Piccolo had come to stand beside Hercule. Goku rested a hand on his shoulder while Piccolo looked directly at Vegeta.
"We need to take her body and get out of here," Piccolo said. "We shouldn't stay here much longer. People might come back and figure out what happened."
Hercule jerked his head up and looked at Piccolo.
"Wait," he said, confused. "You don't want people to know? You...you guys defeated Cell. That's—I mean...Why wouldn't you want people to know?"
Piccolo's face drew even more serious. He shook his head. "This is not the kind of fame we desire," he said sternly.
Hercule's eyes went wide. He didn't know who these fighters were—or where they came from—and he knew he was being let in on a large secret. In his world, a victory like this would bring fame and fortune beyond measure, but these people didn't exactly seem of this world. They were fighting for pure honor. The thought made Hercule feel exposed and ashamed. He examined them closely.
"How will anyone know Cell is dead?" he asked earnestly.
"They just will," Goku said. "Won't they?"
Piccolo shook his head. "No, he has a point." The Namek rubbed his temple and turned back toward Gohan. The boy's skin was so white he looked ghostly. The only part of him that wasn't an ashy gray was the dried patches of blood that coated him like patchwork.
People would wonder about Cell, and they would try to find the source of who killed him. Without the dragon balls, thousands of people would remain dead—including Bulla—and people would demand answers. Would they be able to find Goku and Gohan? Would someone recognize them from the beginning of the broadcast? There was no way to truly know, but looking into the sunken eyes of Gohan, he knew it was more than he could bear.
The boy had just killed his friend as a sacrifice. And while she had invited it, he knew the memory would be burned into his skin branding him for the rest of his life. A frenzy of cameras and questions was not something he could withstand.
"What is your name?" Piccolo turned to Hercule, who looked at him with eager and inquisitive eyes.
"Hercule," he replied. "Hercule Satan."
"Go from here, Hercule, and tell everyone that you beat Cell," Piccolo said.
The Z Fighters all looked at one another, unsure if they had misheard. Goku cocked an eyebrow at Piccolo, while Vegeta stood emotionless.
"What do you mean?" Goku asked.
"He is already a hero in the world's eyes," Piccolo said. "What happened here today was nothing short of a miracle, and it cost us the life of one of our own. We were concerned going in about the attention this would create. We knew there was no way for us to be inconspicuous, but do we really want the world to know about our true power?"
Silence gripped the group. Piccolo turned to Gohan once more.
"He is just a little boy," he said. "He deserves to have his reprieve from this."
"So you think Hercule should say he killed Cell?" Goku asked. Piccolo nodded his head.
"Yes. And he should promise us he will never expose our secrets."
Hercule stood stunned. It was true he loved basking in the light of his fame. Being one of the strongest men in the world brought money, power and respect, among other things, and his motivation for joining this fight was to continually increase his cache of clout. But that was before he saw what he saw.
Before the events unfurled, he might've been okay with taking credit for something that he did not do. Hell, he might've even reveled in it. Now there was a dead girl not even a dozen feet from him, and there were men who had shown power beyond comprehension. Cell was a foe unlike any other he could possibly imagine to face. Hercule didn't deserve to be praised for his demise.
His gaze bounced from Piccolo to Goku, and then finally he landed back on Vegeta. The grief-stricken man looked battleworn and tired. He imagined his own daughter, Videl, and what she was doing right now. He prayed she wasn't watching the TV when Cell launched his explosions into the crowd, that she didn't see the bloodshed and wonder if her father was among them.
"No," Vegeta's voice rang like a bell.
"No?" Goku responded. "Why not?"
"Because it was Bulla who saved us," Vegeta snarled. "She was the one who paid the ultimate price, not him!"
He charged toward Hercule, causing the man to wince. Goku quickly stood between them and extended his hand.
"Stop, Vegeta!" He positioned his body to shield him. "She wouldn't have wanted that kind of attention! That wasn't why she fought!"
Vegeta swatted away Goku's arm. "Who are you to tell me what my daughter wanted?"
Goku shook his head and stepped closer.
"You're right," he said softly. "But if everyone knows who we are, how will we continue to live? Bulla wouldn't have wanted that."
Vegeta scoffed. He hated hearing her name come from Kakarot's mouth. If Raditz hadn't chased Kakarot down, if he hadn't revealed what the dragon balls were, or gone to Namek, then Vegeta would've never felt this hollowness. He had cursed Kakarot's name so many times before, but this time it was different. From his pit of despair, Vegeta could see that his nemesis had inadvertently taken every satisfaction from him—which now included his child.
"She would've wanted peace," Goku's voice was calm. "She would've wanted us to live our lives and not have to worry about all of this."
Vegeta's face relaxed just slightly, but rage still pulsated through him. Goku watched him closely.
"People are going to want to know what happened," Goku said. "And I don't think they'll have trouble piecing it together from what they already know. She didn't want to live in chaos anymore—that's why she came here in the first place. Let Hercule take the credit. Let him have the glory. That way we can all live in peace, just like she wanted."
Behind Goku, Gohan slowly made his way to his father. In a childlike manner, he wrapped his hand around his father's arm-the same hand that had sent the blast barreling toward Bulla and Cell.
"Vegeta," Gohan's voice was small. "She wouldn't have wanted people to know it was her. She would've wanted us to just live."
They were right. When she had come from the future, it was in an attempt to spare them the violence she had incurred for her entire life. Her death was not meant to make her a martyr. She wanted the freedom to simply be—she wanted to ensure that those who she loved also had that chance, too.
His heart swelled and he tried his best to release some of the rage bit-by-bit. His cheeks were still stained with tears, his hands covered in the blood he found at the back of her head. Gohan watched as Vegeta's fingers instinctively flexed, curling around his palm and releasing back outstretched into the air. Back and forth, back and forth.
"Alright," Vegeta relented. "Alright."
Without saying anything further, he walked past Hercule, past Gohan and Goku and Piccolo and past the other fighters. He grabbed his daughter by the waist, hoisted her over his shoulder and jumped into the air, cutting across the sky in the direction of Capsule Corp. As everyone watched him go, Piccolo turned to Hercule. Their eyes met and a shiver shot down Hercule's spine.
"You will go now, and tell everyone what you have done," he said. "And you will forget what you really saw here today."
