Twists And Turns
Chapter 3
I managed to calm my nerves by talking with Bulma. Whatever had changed, whatever I was becoming and whether or not I was scared to death by that, she was still my friend. It was easy to talk to her, I didn't have to keep watching what I said as much – though I obviously omitted any discussion leading toward Vegeta – mostly she just talked about the things that had been going on in her life, and some scientific stuff that I'll admit was kind of lost on me.
But, inevitably, the untouched subject I'd deliberately skirted around had to come into play eventually.
"So have you noticed Vegeta's been acting all weird lately?" she asked.
I blinked; so it wasn't just me.
"Yeah..." I said tactfully. A lame, one-word answer, but at least it was a response I'd managed not to stutter like an idiot on.
"I mean, the guy's not exactly normal to begin with, but lately he's just been freaking me out." she went on.
I muttered what could pass for a reply, averting my gaze. At that moment I heard the door close and felt the ki of the very object of the conversation linger in the hallway for a second before drifting up the stairs and out of range.
I slowly released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, turning my eyes back to Bulma and forcing any thoughts or questions regarding the prince from my mind.
"So I was just wondering if -" the woman began.
She was cut off, jumping with a short scream at what sounded like a gunshot going off upstairs. For a moment I tensed, feeling for the energy-signal of the prince, wondering haphazardly for a moment if he'd shot himself or been attacked. But then I reminded myself bullets couldn't do him harm, and the ki I was looking for resurfaced, strong as ever, albeit chaotic with emotions I didn't want to decipher just yet.
Bulma rushed upstairs without a word, somewhere between furious and frantic. I decided that was my cue to leave before things got awkward, and with a final glance at the retreating woman, I placed two fingers to my forehead and teleported home... though I would get no respite there. I couldn't hide from myself.
X
The minute I rematerialized, I was faced with the startled – as most people usually were when I appeared in front of them, I'd gotten used to it – and then irate face of my wife. She stormed up to me brandishing a soapy frying pan with a glare that could crack diamonds. As a matter of habit, I flinched, trying to shield myself from the impending tirade and threatening swinging of the cookware item clenched in her white-knuckled fist.
"ABOUT TIME!" she shrieked, a strand of black hair coming free of her tight bun and hanging in her face in front of her wild eyes. Honestly she was frightening to behold.
"ChiChi, I didn't-" I began, attempting to placate her before it got ugly, but she was having none of it.
"Do you have any idea how much work needs to be done around here?!" she shouted, swinging the sudsy frying pan once, which I ducked easily.
"ChiChi -" I began again, to no avail. The pitch of her shouting was grating on my eardrums, it was higher and louder than most humans could stand, let alone the acute senses of a Saiyan.
"...Between you and the boys the house is always a wreck! I just mopped the floor and then of course Goten had to track mud through the entire kitchen!"
"ChiChi-!" I tried again, louder, and again my attempt to quiet her shrieking was useless.
"...And then I tried to find the ingredients I need for dinner tonight and guess what? Someone had eaten them all! I swear, Goku, you are as bad as the kids!"
"ChiChi can you please -?" I attempted, throwing a last-ditch attempt.
"Actually, you know what? You're worse! Because you should know better! Can't you just -!"
I didn't think, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Complete, floored silence.
I could barely believe those words – that word in particular – had left my mouth. ChiChi's eyes widened so quickly and so drastically that I began to wonder which would fall out first. She stared, incredulous and not a little outraged, at me; all the color draining from her face even as mine scorched with flush.
"What did you just say to me?" she asked at last, her voice sounded strained.
I didn't answer, not trusting myself to say anything that wouldn't get me in more trouble.
I could almost feel the shock and rage radiating from my wife, and I kept my gaze on the floor. Not because I was scared or even ashamed, but because I was afraid if I looked at her I would say something worse.
"Goku-you-look-at-me-and-tell-me-what-you-just-sai d." she said sharply, all in one breath, each word clipped. She sounded like she was reprimanding one of the boys for breaking an expensive piece of china or something.
What am I, a child? I thought mutinously.
In hindsight, I probably should have cooperated with her, it would save me the trouble of digging my grave any deeper.
I met her searing gaze audaciously, "I think you heard me." I said quietly.
She just looked at me for a few seconds, as if unable to believe what she was seeing.
"...Who are you?" she said harshly.
In the back of my mind, I could feel the ki-signal of Vegeta approaching. Can't he just leave me alone?! Every time I managed to banish him from my mind, he had to show up and make it impossible.
Impatience and conflicted thoughts made me brash and I turned my back on my wife, throwing a retort over my shoulder.
"You know what, ChiChi? I really don't know anymore."
X
"Kakarot!" I heard Vegeta shout as he dropped out of the sky, "Kakarot, I need to talk to you!"
I definitely don't need to talk to you. I thought bitterly. Of all the things that could happen today, why did he have to seek me out now?
I reluctantly swung the door open and stepped outside, smothering out the nagging confusion that accompanied the thought of the prince being near my house. I could still hear ChiChi's ranting in my ears, and all I really wanted was to be alone. The last thing I needed was to humiliate myself in front of His Royal Highness again.
"What?" I snapped, knowing how stubborn he was and that he wouldn't leave until he had his way. My short rope of patience grew a little shorter and I added sharply, "Do you ever show up to anyone's house when you're actually invited?"
There was that look again. The look as if he'd been slapped in the face suddenly. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times, and I grew more irritated as his presence continued to burn up my carefully balanced tolerance.
"I just... I... well..." He stammered, obviously flustered. What is up with him these days? Bulma's right... he's freaking me out too.
"Spit it out, I haven't got all day," I said bluntly. I was really in no hurry to go back to my wife and face her slightly furious, slightly hurt glares; but given the choice between the ranting and standing here trying not to either strangle or pounce on Vegeta, I would take the ranting any day.
"N-nothing, forget it," Vegeta said at last.
I rolled my eyes exasperatedly. Awkward excuses for conversation and evading direct responses...
"That was a huge waste of my time," I muttered as he streaked away, and I was pretty sure he heard me.
Good. I thought. Maybe he'll learn his actions are affecting other people too. The world doesn't revolve around him.
I stood there for a moment, and only snapped out of my anger-laced thoughts when Goten rocketed past, Trunks trailing behind. I remembered my youngest mentioning that Trunks was staying at his grandparents' house this weekend. Halfheartedly, I wondered why he wasn't packing.
The lavender-haired demi-Saiyan's gaze drifted and landed on me for a moment, he flinched slightly, and I realized my face must have reflected the black mood I felt.
Somehow that thought made me feel worse.
X
As I walked back inside, my brooding thoughts by no means cleared, I passed the mirror in the hallway and stopped mid-step. I examined my reflection slowly; I felt like I had changed fundamentally inside – like an apple rotten to the core – surely my outside must show it?
At first I dismissed the notion. Of course I still looked like myself, thoughts and reality-checks didn't change my appearance, did they? But then something simple jumped out at me.
I'd stopped wearing my gi. The orange fighting uniform I'd donned since I'd learned what it meant. It had been a chief trait of my image. Too often I'd been referred to by strangers as "the guy in the orange." And now... what, faded denim jeans and an indigo T-shirt?
When did that happen?
Upon further inspection I noted something else. My posture had changed. Not a lot, I still stood tall and strong like I'd been taught by every martial arts master I'd ever learned from; but... it was hard to describe but I carried myself differently. It wasn't a defensive pose, it was almost animal, in the way of lithe, stalking form... Not a huge variance, it was something you'd only notice if you saw it in yourself.
….Suddenly I felt uncomfortable in my own skin.
My scrutinizing gaze lifted to look at the reflection of my face. It was still mine, of course, but there was one major change that leapt out at me instantly. What happened to my eyes?
My eyebrows, usually carried in a loose, easily friendly expression, had dropped to shadow my scarily intense eyes, almost drawing together in a perpetual glare.
ChiChi was right... Who am I?
Gods, I looked like... I looked like...
A gasp hissed between my teeth as the realization reached me.
I looked like Vegeta.
TBC
((Progress is still slow... But this story is still really fun to write. I love a complicated, conflicted Goku. And you don't get much more conflicted than how he is in NIAMY. That mirror scene kind of popped into my head just now, and actually, when he says he looks like Vegeta, he means he looks Saiyan, but he doesn't realize that. Vegeta's the only Saiyan he really got to look at up close.
Another really short chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing, as always.
-Shinsun))