AnonymousDBZFan,

Oh my gosh, it is so, so wonderful to hear that I could give you a chapter that is less like reading and more like watching. That is BEST compliment I could hope to hear.3 Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed the sisters interacting with each other and giving Touketsu a hard time again (though while trying to help, lol). I was definitely working some loose parallels between trios: The three sisters, the three Saiyans, the three fused dragons. You called it - Likha is very much a parallel to Vegeta. Not in personality so much, but more in temperment and personal development in this story. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! 3

This chapter contains a mini-story that is a sequel to my 4 chapter fic "Big Brother". If you don't want that story spoiled, I recommend reading it first. If you don't care, read on!

When I originally wrote the last chapter, Touketsu Vegeta just hightails it out of Nav and leaves his belongings behind. I started overthinking before I posted and thought, 'well, his stuff is right there, he'd logically bring it with him.' Problem with logic is that it's not very symbolic. So, I changed it back to my original concept. It doesn't affect anything significant in this chapter, only that Touketsu Vegeta has left the remains of his Nav armor behind.

Wrong Turn

The pointed spires of Club Beautiful Corpse stabbed into the smog filled night sky, the polluted atmosphere holding the ambient light of the alien city like a glowing hostage. Additions had been made to the ancient, vaguely gothic building, but much of its original structure remained. Like an enormous eye of judgement, a rosetta window of dark stained glass in blues, reds, and purples loomed high over the entrance of the converted cathedral. Standing sentry for ages watching the pious and fearful attend mass, it now observed worshippers of a different ilk file in.

Crouched amongst the building's stone gargoyles, Touketsu was also watching. It would have been far easier to breeze his way in through the front entrance and simply take down the bouncers. If the princesses were here however, the ensuing mayhem could alert them to his presence. He dropped down to the clerestory windows below, put a hand to one, and melted his way through.

As soon as he entered, thumping music at intolerable levels drove right through his body. Fog filled the vast chamber, multicolored lasers flashing and strobing in time to the music, the colors changing at disorienting speed. He wrinkled his nose in disgust when the smell of narcotics and alcohol assaulted him, and he swung his way down to the triforium walkway below. He peered down.

It was a rave party, the young natives gyrating to the beat. Multiple 3d images along the walls flashed and played to the tempo, a cacophony of both entertainment and propaganda. A dj at the end of the expansive nave was the puppeteer of the spectacle, manipulating the willing souls like a preacher in his pulpit. Nearly nude acrobat artists in glowing body paint twirled from cables suspended from the high ceiling, angels spiraling in ecstasy.

Touketsu squeezed his eyes closed, irritation etching into his face as he lashed his tail. He'd always hated shit like this. Now that he was a part Oozaru demon, the sensory overload was threatening to push him into a complete rage. His eyes flew open when he was hit with a gag inducing stench. Did a sewage pipe burst somewhere? He looked to his right and hunkered down behind the stone railing.

On the adjacent side of the restricted triforium, a well-dressed, portly man had emerged from one of the entrances some distance back. He was flanked by two enormous bodyguards, one of them dragging along a thin, middle-aged man and the other a teenage girl. The well-dressed man gestured with a cybernetic hand down to the madness below, a smile on his face. The bodyguard holding the small man bent him over the railing while the girl pleaded pitiably, and he was pulled back.

Touketsu's brows drew together. The stink was coming from the apparent one in charge. In fact, both he and the smell seemed familiar. He was an ugly, yellowish color and covered in small spikes, his face reminiscent of Dodoria's. He had bulldog-like jowls and a piggy nose that looked as though it had been smooshed in with a thumb. Touketsu's eyes widened, and his back twitched in response to the ghost of a whip.

Vegeta forced himself not to blink when snapping, greenish-yellow energy shot down through the whip.

"Lord Frieza suggested one for each cycle - something to help you remember what's expected of you as you enter your adulthood. Sound good, birthday boy?"

Touketsu's heart was slamming in rage, the growing darkness over his body pulsing in time.

"Please! I'm not a traitor! I-"

Agonizing pain screamed from the center of his spine up to his brain, but from the waist down he felt nothing at all.

The man had aged further, what little hair he had left gone, but there was no mistaking. "Son of a bitch," Touketsu whispered, his eyes starting in rapt rage. "Son of a bitch, it's Durian."

He'd long thought he'd been robbed of his revenge against the former slaver. Because of Durian, the then 18-year-old Saiyan had been inches away from execution. Humiliated and brought low, Vegeta had begged for his life, the thought of dying in servitude worse than death itself. His pride survived the torture, but only barely. He watched the group turn and leave, and like a mindless predator distracted by raw flesh, his objective switched.

His eyes lit up with manic glee as they flashed purple. This was like recovering a treasured possession that was thought all but lost. His pride would be avenged. He grinned in delighted anticipation. "There will be nothing fake about your death this time, Durian. Indeed, revenge is a dish best served cold." He began to move when he paused, and he regarded the stump of his wrist thoughtfully. "I suppose, though…that I should get a handout from him first."

A set of stairs led up to a hallway that emptied into a stately room furnished with rich leathers and dark stained wood. Weapons and armor from various worlds lined the walls, some obviously very old. Durian sat down behind an ornate desk, a row of floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows behind it. Once the exterior of the old cathedral, the room was one of the many modern additions made. The strobe lights from the nave on the other side occasionally flashed through the dark windows, the thump of music barely filtering through.

"Are you trying to take advantage of my generosity, Burek?" Durian asked. "You do remember our agreement? If you can't fulfill your end of the deal, your daughter must pick up the slack."

"Please, just a little more time, Mr. Troyanda!"

"It's alright, father."

"Paska," Burek hissed over his shoulder at his daughter. "Please sir, just five more solar cycles, that's all I ask. We've been short on manpower since the spread of the illness. You must understand!"

"I understand that there has been a breach of contract. Your daughter will work for me as of tonight. Lysich?" he addressed his bodyguard. "Remind Mr. Burek not to take advantage of my good nature again."

Lysich's hand lit up with ki before grabbing Burek by his right arm. The other bodyguard restrained the tearfully pleading Paska as Lysich prepared to slice her father's hand off.

"I'd like a word with your boss, first."

Everyone turned to the deep, unfamiliar voice coming from the shadows. The intruder's pale form was barely discernible in the darkness.

Durian's eyes briefly widened in surprise that someone had gotten by his guards. What were they doing, all taking a piss break at once? The optic implant in his left eye scanned the intruder: Unidentified species, possibly reptilian given his lack of a heat signature. No weapons. Power level 0? Durian's nose wrinkled in disdain. He was so weak his scanner couldn't even pick up on it. Another beggar with a terminal illness, pleading for assistance with his medical bills.

"You can get in line and wait like the others," Durian told him with a condescending wave of his hand. "Lysich, Arum, show this man out."

Lysich shoved Burek away, and the two burley bodyguards strode towards the intruder. A flash of ultraviolet light pulsed from the shadows, and moments later both bodyguards were completely consumed by dark fires.

Durian gaped. He stood and fired a rapid volley of artificially generated ki energy through his cybernetic right hand. With a yelp Burek pulled his daughter to the floor as Durian continued firing into the dark. Every single blast was blocked and absorbed by the dripping energy sword. The mob boss dropped his arm, noxious sweat trickling down his spiky, yellow face.

Touketsu, still shrouded in shadows and the dark blade drawn, stepped closer. "Hello Durian. It's been a minute, hasn't it?"

Durian's brows drew together; this guy knew his real name. "Who - who are you?"

Touketsu extinguished the blade, his shadow hand disappearing with it. "You don't recognize me? I'm hurt. Still relying on technology to augment your pitiable ki, I see."

This guy knew him. His voice also sounded somewhat familiar. Durian glanced at the man's missing right hand. If this sickly person could generate such a deadly weapon, he'd had some artificial enhancements himself. At any rate, the man's technology seemed to trump his own.

Durian fell back on diplomacy. "So we're old acquaintances, eh? Had I known, I wouldn't have fired so quickly, heh. Sorry about that. Step into the light, let me have a look at you."

Touketsu did, a shaft of light falling over his form. Durian's brows knit together. The alien looked something like a satyr; shaggy black fur grew from his hips and beneath his navel, down his legs, and over the tops of his two-clawed, digitigrade feet. He had a reptilian tail and a sharp widow's peak, his wild black hair framing the pair of horns growing from his temples. There was a garnet stone just beneath his bare, white chest, and his forearms were covered in long, black fur. Strange markings like knife wounds ran beneath his eyes and over his shoulders and biceps.

"…I can't say you look familiar."

Touketsu stepped towards him, ignoring the two frightened people scrambling to hide behind one of the leather couches. "Are you familiar with Frieza?"

He snorted as he casually sat down and pulled out an Ubarian cigar. "Of course." He lit it and took a few puffs to calm his rattled nerves. "Everyone this side of the galaxy knows of his reign."

"Yes, especially those on the inside."

Durian paused. His leather chair squeaking as he leaned back, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're with the Galactic Patrol?"

Touketsu threw his head back and laughed. "Bwa ha ha! The what?"

Durian frowned, tired of this stranger's games. "Alright, punk. Who are you? How do you know me?"

"Do you remember your old job as C.O.O. on Planet Frieza 78? Do you remember stealing and reselling PTO trade secrets? Do you remember framing a Saiyan prince for treason?"

Durian's hard expression softened in surprise, his mouth going slack. "Vegeta?" He eyed the feral Saiyan up and down. He didn't think Saiyans were capable of any form other than that ape creature. Come to think of it, he bore some similarity to Frieza's race now.

"Huh. You're alive I see, if not entirely well," Durian said, tapping the ashes of his cigar into a nearby ashtray. He chuckled, the sound wheezy and dry as he shook his head. "Frieza alllways did favor you, kid. Did he uh, keep you on 78 and make you a volunteer for Biotech's genetic research?" he asked, gesturing to him with the cigar. "So what was it, gene splicing? Microcybernetics?" Touketsu didn't answer, and Durian frowned. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Hell, apparently."

Durian swallowed and chuckled nervously. "Well, whatever it was it certainly boosted your abilities. Can't be too angry about that," he remarked casually before popping the cigar back in his mouth.

Touketsu snorted mirthlessly. "All the pods that were launched during your escape were shot down." He smirked and placed a hand on his hip. "You were far craftier than Frieza gave you credit for. Made a pit-stop somewhere and re-launched it, did you?"

Durian took a good a drag from his cigar. "Veeery good, Vegeta," he smiled as he snuffed out the stub. "You couldn't see that spy right in front of your face, but you seemed to have learned a thing or two about being a detective after all."

Touketsu's smirk dropped. "I certainly did," he replied, his voice dangerously calm. "It was when my life was on the line that I realized you used that clone to fake your death."

Durian glanced up at him. Clearing his throat, he got up and approached the bar. "Look Vegeta, we were all trying to get ahead in those days. You can understand that, can't you? I'm sorry you had to deal with the fallout, but what I did, it was nothing personal."

"Could have fooled me."

"Come on. We can talk about this. Care for a drink?"

Touketsu shook his head and began walking about the room, looking at the expensive furnishings. "You set yourself up a nice, cozy little operation here, Durian. This is what you've been up to since Frieza's empire collapsed? Ducking war crimes and running a sex trafficking ring? Very underworld. Very…you."

Durian chuckled as he poured himself a drink, the decanter tinking against his glass. "Well, we do what we can to get by. Survival of the fittest and all that, am I right?"

"You're far from fit," he sneered, looking over his shoulder.

Durian chuckled again, shaking his head as he turned back to him. "Still the smart-ass."

"Huh," Touketsu snorted, a smirk twitching his lip. He nodded to Durian's right hand. "Got some replacement body parts, I see."

Yes, turns out the ki-enhancer implant had a degenerative effect on tissue. Had to get my arm replaced. But you know it was such an improvement that I was inspired to get this optic implant, too," he said with a smile, tapping at his left temple before looking pointedly at Touketsu's missing hand. "Looks like you could benefit from a prosthetic of your own." Touketsu turned away. "I could get you one."

Ignoring him, the demon Saiyan continued walking about the room, casually looking at the collection of ancient weapons on display. Durian took a sip of his drink, watching him over the rim of his glass. The energy was still quietly building in his prosthetic arm. Seventy five percent. The freak Saiyan wouldn't survive this one.

"According to my scanner you're practically dead on your feet," Durian spoke to the demon Saiyan's back. "You're sick, aren't you boy? Imagine how much better you'll be doing once we get you taken care of. What do you say, Vegeta? Looking for a job? I offer great health benefits."

Touketsu didn't appear to be listening; his keen hearing was far more attuned to the imperceptible hum of building power in Durian's weapon. His neck craned back as he looked at an enormous, curved blade hung high on the wall. "Huh. There it is again."

Durian nonchalantly took another sip of the liquor, smoothly downplaying his ever-growing anxiety. Eighty seven percent. "There's what, Vegeta?"

"Deja vu," Touketsu replied distantly. He was silent for a moment, seemingly lost in his head. "I wonder," he began to himself, and his voice strengthened. "I wonder if this is what I did after I came back from the dead."

A chill went down Durian's spine. The Saiyan was completely mad. "And what's that Vegeta?" Ninety five percent.

He turned back to the jaundiced mobster. "Scrub the universe of Frieza's memory."

"Huh," Durian snorted. "Rather hypocritical of you. You served him just like the rest of us, boy. Perhaps you should start with yourself." One hundred.

"After you."

Durian released the blast; Touketsu instantly went flat black and absorbed the fluorescent yellow energy into the void of his being. Durian gaped at the shadow, watching in fear as the yellow-green energy strobing through the briefly hidden markings changed to a burning indigo. An aura of blue and purple liquid fire burst out to drip from his form as he went Berserker.

The charcoal-skinned creature landed a bone shattering punch into Durian's flabby face, the glass of alcohol flying from the mobster's hand and hitting the floor with a crash. "FRIEZA ALMOST SLICED ME IN HALF THAT DAY!" Touketsu roared, his red eyes momentarily flaring purple as his aura went crimson.

"Vegeta, please listen," Durian garbled around a bloody mouth of shattered teeth, holding out a placating, cybernetic hand. "It's in the past! I can give you wealth! Battle! You can make a living off doing what you love!"

"How so? By yet again serving another beneath me?" he hissed as he slowly stalked up to him.

"Vegeta! Please, wait-"

"I have indeed fallen onto some hard times, Durian, and you do owe me." His lip curled into a hateful sneer, his body becoming jet black as his aura cooled to blue. "Kage-te!" The darkness raced up his body to form a hand of concentrated flat blackness over the stump of his right wrist, his blue aura wreathing it. He held it out to Durian in false appeal. "Lend a hand to a man in need, will you?"

Touketsu grabbed his cybernetic right hand and yanked the mobster up. The dripping blue aura whipped around and crawled up Durian's arm. The prosthetic freezing and disintegrating, it was converted to pure energy and simultaneously drawn away. The mobster's hand gone, he was released. The energy was pulled into Touketsu's void-like hand and converted back to matter while Durian gaped up at him. Glowing blue bones reassembled from wrist to fingertips, darkening as they were quickly wrapped in glowing muscle, then skin.

Touketsu regarded his completely regenerated hand in awe. "Much better," he grinned with accomplishment, flexing his fingers. He turned his burning eyes back to Durian. In panic, Durian scrambled backwards before getting to his feet. Touketsu rammed his clawed hand into the obese mobster's stomach, eliciting a gurgling cry from him as he leapt towards the windows.

He smashed the mobster through the glass, shattering it just as the music outside reached a deafening pitch and a glitter bomb went off. The sparkling multicolored fragments of glass rained down over the oblivious party goers, their roars of ecstatic glee drowning out Durian's choked screams.

Touketsu yanked him back so they were nose to nose, and he gripped him by the back of the neck. "I call this one 'The Hanged Man'." He ripped out Durian's entrails.

Swiftly winding the gory rope around the mobster's ankles, he flung the other end over the iron framework of the shattered window. With a single yank he hoisted the now upside-down mob boss upward as though he were on a pulley, Durian choking on his horrified screams.

"You always were a gutless bastard, Durian!" Touketsu cackled. He admired the view, Durian's bloated, gasping form the antithesis of the graceful acrobats spinning obliviously beyond on their suspension cables.

Touketsu's irises shifted to purple, the pupils disappearing as his body darkened to black. Purple light shot through his markings, the stone in his chest lighting up as a liquid purple aura exploded from his form. His body became a flat, black shadow as his aura curled up in miasmic waves.

"Shinigami." The darkness left his body, coursing up his arm to form a long curved, black blade over his hand; a scythe wreathed in curling purple energy. "I'd say, 'See you in Hell,' but your soul won't survive the trip," Touketsu smiled, his eyes becoming the Oozaru's and his voice lowering in pitch. "GOODBYE, DURIAN." He swung the blade.

Durian was sliced in half. Unlike Svaroken, Shinigami was not instantaneous; its victim suffered. His twain body hovering in the air as it was slowly consumed by the purple flames, Durian experienced all of an 18 year old Vegeta's rage, terror, betrayal, and humiliation. The nightmarish existence dragged on, millennia within a moment, a private hell apart from hell.

The negative energy produced from Durian's horrified mind was being harvested along with the rest of him. His charred skeleton wreathed in purple flames, his disintegrating body was being pulled into the scythe. Matter and soul converted to dark energy, they were fed into the blade. It retracted back over Touketsu, enveloping his form as the aura thinned and disappeared. A flat shadow with blank red eyes, Touketsu's body absorbed the power. He faded back to his pale form.

The Oozaru left Touketsu's eyes. He blinked, the sadistic grin fading from his face. What just happened? He'd teased Durian, the appetizer before the feast of his revenge and then…He couldn't recall. It was that fugue state. It was Demon Sign, it had to be. It was taking all that was his. His mouth thinned as he silently cursed Zhernobog yet again for turning him into this creature. And again, he cursed himself for letting him.

His pointed ears pricked at the sound of terrified whimpers. He turned to the two forgotten people barely peering up over the leather couch. "Perhaps you'll rethink making a deal with a devil?" Touketsu sardonically asked Burek. Frightened whimpers were his only answer, and his eyes narrowed in disgust. "Get the fuck out." The man scrambled to his feet as he pulled his daughter up with him, and they raced out of the room.

Touketsu turned back to the shattered window when he was hit with the unmistakable scent of blood, and his original objective rushed back to him. Unaware, his eyes flashed purple. Zeygorn and Zarkala were not going to escape his wrath. And I'll be present for my revenge. He leapt down to the dance floor below, weaving his way between the partygoers before stopping before a dancing pair swaying to the thumping, euphoric music.

"Mind if I cut in?" Touketsu growled. A wide-eyed Zeema looked around the shoulder of her limp dance partner, her lips crimson with blood. "Where is it?!"

The body was dropped to the floor face up when she burst into flurries and disappeared. Touketsu whirled around with a snarl, searching unsuccessfully through the fog and flashing lights. One of the partygoers shrieked when she noticed the vacant-eyed dead man by Touketsu, creating a domino effect of panic.

Touketsu pushed through the chaotic crowd, ignoring the people bumping into him in their haste to get to the exit as he scanned the dance floor. Just then his eyes latched onto a whirl of snow illuminated by passing laser lights. Shoving people out of the way, he raced after it as it descended down a wrought iron spiral staircase. Vaulting over the railing, he dropped to the floor below and straightened.

It was a catacombs, converted into a literal underground lounge. Behind the protection of corroded metal cages, bones of the planet's native ancestors lined the walls, some arranged in macabre artistic motifs. Drugged out partygoers were lounging on tombs, some making out while others were engaged in full intercourse. He got a strong whiff of blood and ran down one of the corridors before turning to a corner and finding a private room. He flung aside the tapestry covering the entrance.

Bloody skeletonized corpses littered the room. He got one glimpse of the three startled princesses before they disintegrated into snow, but their night out had compromised their cloaking abilities. Touketsu's eyes widened; he could see the little effigy suspended in the center of the blizzard. He jumped through, grabbed it, and sped out of the room.

The three sisters re-materialized, dismayed. "I told you guys we had to go!" Zeema exclaimed.

"You're the one who wanted to stay on this planet!" Kuma accused.

"Whaaaat?" Likha yelled over the deep base thumping above, face flushed and eyes bouncing with nystagmus. She'd had more men than either of her sisters, and all their prey had been indulging in booze and narcotics.

"Come on, drunky!" Kuma yelled, tugging on her sister's arm. The three disintegrated into blizzards, two speeding after Touketsu and the third following in erratic, eddying circles.

Touketsu made it back to the main room and was about to leap up the staircase when he stopped. Beyond the spiral staircase was an altar, a full body, gilt reliquary of some saint's remains seated atop it like a king on his throne. He'd seen something flash at the base of it. He held the effigy out, its dark side facing him. His eyes lit up in triumph at the sight of the pulsing, anthropomorphic portal. He raced to it and jumped through.

Touketsu skid to a stop in the middle of a crossroads. He blinked in bewilderment as he turned 360 degrees, taking in the towering, alien trees. "This isn't Nav," he murmured. Three blood-red planets of varying shades faded into the frosty night sky. The portal had taken him to some other planet on the physical plane.

The effigy was suddenly knocked out of his hand by a blast of wind and snow. "Who wants to play monkey in the middle?" said the Kuma blizzard.

He bounded after the snowstorm where the effigy was suspended. "Damn you, bitch!"

"Zeema! Catch!"

The object was lobbed over his head into the cloud of flurries behind him. He gave chase and the effigy again went soaring over him and into another blizzard. It jumbled about clumsily before dropping to the ground.

"Oops."

"LI-KHA!" Kuma and Zeema shouted in dismay.

Touketsu snatched it off the road and bounded ahead, the three blizzards chasing after him. He waved it around like a flashlight as he evaded the flurries but saw no more mysterious portals open before he came upon a caravan. It was a funeral procession, the dark carriages drawn by six legged, alien steeds.

Touketsu wove between the large animals, spooking them as he bounded up over the tops of the carriages. The animals now bellowing in terror, they reared up as the entire procession crashed into each other, some of the carriages overturning. A coffin tumbled out of the ornate, black carriage in the middle.

Screams and wails ensuing behind him, Touketsu raced into the cemetery ahead, terrifying another group of mourners. He continued to aimlessly wave the effigy around before at last seeing a portal open in front of the cemetery's church. He leapt towards it and dove in where he was immediately surrounded by a raging blizzard.

The effigy was snatched from his hand again.

"Fuck!"

He looked around in exasperation, his long, black hair whipping in the wind. He was in the mountains somewhere, a waxing half-moon peeking out every so often behind the fast-moving clouds. Bringing a forearm up to shield his eyes, he trudged through the snow. He had no idea where the princesses were; their snow forms camouflaged perfectly into the weather. He suddenly froze. A pair of golden eyes, the light reflecting from the pupils, was staring back at him through the storm.

The lone, white creature practically disappeared into its environment. It cowered in surprise, ears flattened, before turning and bounding away into the blizzard. Touketsu stood stock still, staring after it. He inextricably remembered the name of that alien animal. He had even seen its kind before…when he was chasing after Bulma through the mountains. His heart began slamming in his chest.

It was a wolf.

Oh no. He closed his eyes as he stretched out his senses. Not here. Of all places to be stranded, not here. He was almost afraid to check. Then, one by one the powerful ki signatures lit up like flashing warnings in his mind. The Namekian. Gohan and his brother. Kakarot. Trunks!

…Himself.

"GET BACK HERE, DAMN IT!" he roared over the blizzard, turning all around as he tried to keep the panic from edging into his voice. "This isn't a game! I can't stay here!" he shouted as he trudged through the snow.

It was his very thoughts that both fed Zhernobog and manifested the dark ki, and he was being beset on all sides with triggers. He was taunted by his own energy signature, a flesh and blood reminder of a life that should have been his. The powerful ki signature of his rival on the fringes of his consciousness teased him. The demon within swept aside thoughts of how Kakarot aided him, demanding he affirm his self-worth and restore his pride. Unbeknownst to him, his irises flashed purple.

For a fleeting moment he was grateful he couldn't fly off this mountain until he remembered the last time he'd completely lost it: It was on Planet Rigora. After destroying Frieza and realizing he'd been enslaved before he was even born, he lost his mind and destroyed the planet he stood on. If Demon Sign took over now, all Creation could be nullified…starting with Earth.

"Alright! Alright, fine!" he shouted desperately. "I'll stay out of Nav, but I can't stay on this planet! Now bring it back!" He squinted against the blizzard. They could be long gone. His legs went rubbery at the thought. "Girls?!" He called out, his brow furrowing as hope began to leave him. His eyes screwed shut and he screamed until his voice grew ragged. "GIRLS! I can't stay here! PLEASE!" His nails raked up into his hair, his body shifting between gray and white as he hunched over. His Beserker aura began to leak from his form.

He dropped to his knees in the snow, his burning aura melting it. He was spiraling. He had to divorce himself from all feeling. His body darkened to flat black, his aura cooling to deep blue before guttering out as he went Void. Fully recovered from the debilitating hangover that hampered his efforts earlier, he reached the transformation easily. However, he now had to maintain this state of detachment.

…Indefinitely.

You've never accomplished that.

Purple eyes flew open, and with a cry he pitched forward onto his hands as a liquid-like, bloody aura exploded from him as though his body had burst. The darkness sped from his body to join it, changing the energy surrounding him into curling, purple clouds. Pale and panting, he blinked; his eyes had become the Oozaru's. His body bulged outward once as though something was trying to break free. He squeezed his eyes shut, his nightmare flashing through his mind right before he lost himself.

She placed a bloodied hand weakly against his horned head as he continued to feast on her.

"Veh-Vegetaaaa," she sobbed. "No-"

"No," he rasped. His eyes cracked open, the Oozaru gone but the irises still burning purple as he fought for control. "Bulma," he whispered, his voice cracking. His face twisting in anguish, he looked up to the sky. "Bulma! She…she's my wife!" he finally confessed into the blizzard. "She lives on this planet with our son! Please, I have to leave, they're not safe while I'm here!" He reigned in a sob of defeat, his head bowing as his body shook. "Nothing is safe."

"I don't want you with me," he said heatedly, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't want my family in Hell with me."

Hell. He'd exiled himself to the Kagemazoku's limbo to keep his family safe, but he ultimately gave into Marenna's temptation and left. His head snapped up. Kuromon could take him back. With the realization of an out, he calmed, and the purple glow left his eyes. He sat up, his body darkening and the dark light strumming as his aura collapsed to wash down in indigo flames. He held his right hand out before him.

Kuromon could alert the kais to his whereabouts, but he didn't care. If this Zeno did erase his existence, it would be preferable to the eternal hell that awaited him on the other side. His eyes became unfocused. He was always on the precipice of madness in that limbo. Eventually, he'd lose control of his mind and body, just as he nearly had here. Everything was still in danger. The energy continued to gather.

"Svaroken." The shadow and heavy flames receded to travel up his arm, coalescing into the dark ki blade.

"Marenna, did you not consider that if I die, Zhernobog could die with me?"

"No, and you're a fool if you believe that. Existence doesn't end with the destruction of one's body."

"But existence ends with the destruction of the soul," he said softly. He'd go out on his own terms, and he'd take Zhernobog with him. Touketsu tilted his head back and positioned the tip of the sword to his throat. His brows furrowed; he couldn't see the sky through the storm. "Goodbye, Bulma. Goodbye, Trunks." He closed his eyes.

His wrist was caught by a slender, pale hand.

His eyes snapped open. Likha. Zeema standing to her right and Kuma to her left, the three sisters shared the same appalled expressions. In the redhead's hand was the doll. She carefully knelt across from him, her hand still over his wrist as her sisters moved to either side of him. It was Zeema that had stopped her sisters and urged them to go back when his furious voice became uncharacteristically plaintive.

"What are you doing?" Likha asked in a hushed voice, her brow furrowing.

Kuma knelt next to him. "We got you out of Nav so you wouldn't die."

Zeema knelt to his left and put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention. "Please don't! We didn't know she was your wife. We'll give you the effigy." He studied Zeema for a moment before looking to each of them in turn. They exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. His eyes on the redhead across from him, he let the sword collapse in a curl of heavy, smoky energy, the strength going out of him.

He didn't take his dull eyes off Likha when Zeema threw her arms around him. "You love her," she sniffed. Expressionless, Touketsu held Likha's gaze. The redhead dropped her eyes. Her hand still on his wrist, she gently turned his hand palm up and placed the effigy into it.

"You need to use it at a hotspot," she explained quietly as he looked down at it. "All populated planets have them. The effigy has to be turned dark side out at a hotspot in order to open a passageway back to Nav, but it will only open at dawn. Light side out will reveal hotspots to planets on the physical plane so long as it's night there.

He was quiet as he looked at the doll, turning it over in his hands. Zeema drew back. "We'll need to find another one if you want to leave," she said softly, her hand on his shoulder. "Hotspots on the physical plane can only be used once each night."

"They can be found in remote places where the walls between planes are thinner," Kuma said. "Places like crossroads, mountains, burial grounds, that sort of thing. Whichever planet you depart from back to Nav, you'll return to next time you travel to the Physical Plane. So unless you want to end up back here, we need to find another hotspot before dawn."

He didn't answer, and Kuma paused as the three looked at each other. They'd never seen him like this. It actually made them wish for the arrogant, infuriating man to return. It occurred to all three that they did start caring for him somewhere along the way. They stood.

"Hotspots feel warm in Nav, but cold on the physical plane," Likha said before continuing carefully. "It will be hard for you to find another one on this mountain." She and her sisters had noticed that he hadn't flown once since healing himself; it didn't appear to be a choice. "We'll stay and help you find one."

He looked up at her, his wan expression hardening.

"I promise we're not going to try taking it."

An animalistic growl reverberated in his throat, his mane and fur bristling as he drew the effigy closer to himself. The three sisters looked at each other guiltily.

"Ok when we promised not to tell anyone about your poaching we crossed our fingers," Likha confessed. He growled more loudly. "We only told Mom, though." She held her hands out to her sides, palms turned out, and her sisters followed suit. "We promise. We won't take the effigy and leave you here."

"We promise," repeated Zeema.

"We promise," said Kuma.

Touketsu looked up at each of the three goddesses standing in a semi-circle around him, searching for deception. He only found sincere expressions the likes of which he'd never seen on them. Well, on the younger two at least. Finally, he stood and approached Likha. "I'm trusting you," he told her in a low voice.

"You can," she said earnestly. He looked at the others, and they nodded.

"Very well." He followed the three goddesses, and the group disappeared into the snowy night.

The "Club Beautiful Corpse" scenes were inspired by elements from the movies "Blade", "Hannibal", and "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade". The club itself is based on The Church Nightclub, a converted Episcopal church located in Denver, Colorado.

The scene at the end where the goddesses are standing around Touketsu is an allusion to the Triple Goddess archetypes. Most famous among them is the Maiden, Mother, and Crone, often symbolized by the waxing, full, and waning moon phases.

Burek: a Croatian phyllo pastry

Paska: a traditional Easter bread of Slovak and Ukrainian origin (I bake three loaves every Easter from my grandmother's recipe).

Troyanda: Ukrainian for 'rose'. I thought it would be funny because Durian stinks.

Thank you for reading!