A blank canvas, silent, empty and blinding in its nothingness. An abyssal expansion of eternal whiteness is all that surrounds Vegeta. With an absolute nothing as his landscape, Vegeta's mind begins to struggle with the extreme unnaturalness of wherever he is. He has no points of reference, no sources of light, no horizons, no nothing, there is no visual stimuli to indicate where he is at all. If not for the feel of ground beneath his bare feet then he would not even be able to tell if there was a surface beneath him or not. Crouching down to examine what he is stood on he springs back up in surprise. The clothes on his body are not the ones he had upon entry to Washu's lab. His boots and gloves are still gone yet his training jumpsuit has been replaced by a horrid and crude hide garment. Some form of roughly crafted and fur covered tunic that cuts off well before his knees is now the single item of clothing he has. One inhalation through his nose gains a shudder of revulsion from him. He is wearing Oozaru leather. Only one person he knew ever had such a savage and barbaric form of clothing, even then it was a trophy and never worn, and that man was his father, the King. Wearing the skin of his own kind does little to phase him, however its rank smell is abhorrent.
Looking about again to see but blinding whiteness in all directions, the Saiyan dressed in Saiyan leaps to the air. He then nimbly lands on his feet a few seconds later. His deep breaths become shallower, quicker and louder. Vegeta points a hand and then drops it to his side again. Nothing happened. His biceps start to bulge and his fists start to shake violently. Vegeta has no ki at all. A mighty roar of rage escapes his throat. Trembling with furious anger he futilely attempts to sense about and fails, his whole life's work has been cut off from him and he feels very vulnerable and exposed. He has been backed up into a corner and is ready to instinctively lash out at anything near him in the hope that just his physical form will suffice. Vegeta bounces on the tips of his toes and warily scans about with his eyes as adrenaline floods into his muscles. He has no idea what is going on, where he is or what has happened to him, yet he does know who is to blame and howls out her name.
Washu answers, a low chuckle resounding from all around the Saiyan before the air begins to fizz and burn several metres in front of him. Her bright shock of magenta hair is tied back in a very strict ponytail and she appears older than normal. She is in her adult form but Vegeta's keen eyes can spy a few minute creases by her eyes and lips to see that this is a more mature form of Washu than he has seen before. A long and sleeveless pure white lab coat drapes around her with the abrupt contrast of the armour Vegeta wears jutting out from her shoulders and covering her chest and torso; she designed it and so she is now wearing it. Donning longer hip and crotch guards than the Saiyan prince has ever worn, it appears as if Washu is wearing some heavy and protective skirt underneath her lab coat. The scientist steps out of the stark emerald tear that immediately seals up behind her and she grins darkly as Vegeta yells his questions at her.
Bending his knees, pivoting slightly and reaching behind him, Vegeta flings Washu over his shoulder in a well practised judo throw and pins her to the ground. Acting purely on his combat instinct alone his mind is whirring at how she got behind him without him noticing. Without ki his speed is impeded to a colossal degree, consequently Washu's speed is far in excess of anything she could ever normally achieve. His mighty arm muscles bulge and tense as his shoulders roll and push with great force down upon the frail woman who is effortlessly standing up and pushing him aside as if his strength were but naught. Gasping in alarm and shock, Vegeta backflips away from Washu and takes up a defensive stance.
" What the hell is going on?" The Saiyan's mind is in complete disarray, nothing at all is making sense to him: the scenery, his lack of ki and Washu's dominance. Washu slowly cracks her knuckles as he has done to her so many times and gradually begins to walk towards Vegeta. Halfway through demanding an answer from her again, the warrior is silenced as a booted foot slams into his jaw and sends him spiralling to the side. He could not sense her movement at all, spitting out blood that vanishes on contact with the pristine white floor. Being so acclimatised to relying on his sixth sense it is jarring for him to essentially be left blind and deaf to ki.
A second boot impacts hard under his ribs as he just begins to get back up and before he gets sent through the air an elbow plants itself in his spine and slams him back down to the ground. Grimacing in pain, Vegeta pushes himself up onto his hands and knees and the sole of a boot gently rests itself on his face. His knuckles whiten in anger. Attempting to push her over and unbalance her, he goes to ram his head against her foot but instead gets kicked over onto his back with a broken nose. Vegeta stands back up, cracks the cartilage within his nose back into place and asks again what is going on. A brief and ecstatic cackle tears out of her pursed lips as she disappears.
" You are in my world now, little monkey." A sinister voice dripping with hate sounds out from right next to the Saiyan's ears. His fist finds nothing there.
"I made it myself, not like you'd give a damn about it. This is my realm, and no, for all your previous strength and power, you are nothing in here compared to me." Washu appears behind Vegeta and rests her hands on his head to emphasise the height difference between them. She pushes down and his knees buckle. Before he can raise any sort of guard a fist hits him down to the ground. Washu steps down on Vegeta's sternum as he lays there momentarily dazed and starts applying pressure onto his ribcage. Hard and rough fingers start digging into her calf muscle to remove the limb. He jabs hard at the back of her knee and hits a pressure point. With her leg spasming in pain, Vegeta rolls out from under her and propels himself into the air with his arms.
"Here I rule." A stone cold voice echoes as Washu grabs his foot and hurls him back down at her feet. Vegeta made a grave miscalculation in his escape, having been able to fly since he can remember it is ingrained in him to take to the skies, not remembering he cannot. Raging at the woman with murder in her green eyes, he growls. Then his growls are cut off by her knee pressing down on his throat. Washu leans over his face as he struggles to breathe, savouring the sound of his rasped attempts for air. With one fair hand she pinches his nose and tweaks it back into a broken position.
"Here I am a Goddess, and you are nothing more than a dirty ape." Manically giggling to herself as the indomitable man who has tortured her so suffers, Washu let's her guard down. Fingers jab into her eyes with mantis like speed and precision. Reeling away and covering her face, Vegeta takes the initiative and frees himself. With her distracted by her pain and temporary blindness he easily predicts and dodges a blind swing from her and rams her over. His bare foot cracks down on her ankle twice until he hears a decent enough scream of pain from Washu to indicate that he has disabled that limb.
Vegeta sprints away from Washu and into the distance with great panting breaths as he recovers from his throttling. His mind starts turning and thinking. He comes to the conclusion that this place is a construct, with all the limitations and rules of existence being governed by the admin hell bent on killing him. Just when he starts to think he is understanding his predicament more he gets slapped across the face hard. Vegeta raises a forearm and blocks the second hand aimed for his face, and feels her power surge through his arm. He doesn't let himself get caught off guard by her sudden appearance, if what she says is true then her bending the rules to mitigate her injuries is to be expected. Neither of them fight fair in the slightest when it comes down to it. He reads her face and drops his forearm to guard his side from a kick.
Something has changed and he can feel it. Vegeta has gotten faster. He can now just about see and read Washu's movements and strikes as she begins to lay into him again. His decades of relentless training pay off against this opponent holding the upper hand in both speed and raw, brute force. If it wasn't such a dire situation he would laugh at how her tactics are so predictable. Washu's whole fighting strategy has been read by Vegeta in less than a minute of him more often than not blocking her attacks. It is all theory, not one single punch she throws his way is coming from an ounce of actual combat knowledge and experience, Washu is basing everything off of stuff she has learnt from textbooks and research materials. His speed increases again, in correlation with every blow he successfully deflects. Vegeta recklessly rolls into Washu and swipes her legs out from under her with his arms before slamming his elbow down into her throat.
On the other hand of all this, Vegeta is sure that Washu's strikes are getting slower even as he stands back up with his arms throbbing and his shins aching from just blocking her attacks. His mind begins to formulate ideas as to how their speeds are changing when physically they remain the same and ki does not exist. As he thinks on this, Washu repays him with several lightning fast blows that once again he cannot even perceive. Each blow thunders through him with such enormous strength that he is surprised that even he hasn't taken serious injury yet. Vegeta raises himself back up to his full height and keeps pondering to himself why his speed so greatly decreased then when he was only puzzling over the variance in speeds. Washu stands back for a moment and rubs at her slender neck. She has an extreme amount of strength and speed yet even with the prince's attacks being so much weaker than her own Washu has little training in how to deal with the pain and injury incurred when fighting, unlike someone else who is as accustomed to it as he is to breathing.
"You are a crafty one, Washu, you deserve merit for this attempt for actually having the slightest chance at besting me, but the time for play has ended now. I've worked it all out, this 'Goddess' has been usurped." His confident chuckles and self assured posture infuriate Washu. She does not believe that a mere Saiyan could have figured out this realm in such a short amount of time. As fast as she possibly can she throws a straight punch at the air where Vegeta was stood. He now smirks at her from a few metres away, taking no aggressive actions against her. A frown of confusion and rage contort her face, and now Vegeta tests out his theory.
He engages Washu in basic hand to hand combat. After easily blocking her first kick Vegeta learns that her power has not changed and hence decides to dodge all of her attacks lest his limbs shatter. He watches as her blows rain down around him and notices the confusion in her face grow and her attacks noticeable slow. Vegeta lightly slaps her about the face every time her punches and kicks miserably fail to hit him and laughs in her face at how the tables have turned. Then he vanishes and leaves Washu's emerald eyes darting about. She turns and dashes towards nothing as he vanishes again. His speed has far surpassed her own.
" This shouldn't be possible. How are you doing this? Tell me!" Enraged at somehow being on the losing end, Washu screams out to the smug Saiyan. She stomps her feet and grinds her teeth as he lets out one lone chuckle at her anger.
" I told you, I've worked out the rules for this place. If I'm doing something you did not expect of me, then that's just an oversight on your part." Vegeta walks over to her, calm and aloof and displaying his hands to show that he is in no way cheating or doing anything suspicious. He couldn't if he wanted to, Washu still controls this realm and he has no knowledge of how to take that power from her. She backs away from him, standing defensively as if it matters against her foe. Not believing that he has actually figured out the complexities of her pride and joy, her special realm, she waits to hear his explanation that he is all too willing to give.
" Considering my opponent and our vastly different amounts of power, the landscape, our appearances and what you said, it became fairly obvious that this place does not physically exist. The light, you've put my mind into some construct of yours, one where the mental becomes the physical."
"Yes, yes, intellect becomes raw force and such, but no-one in all my years has come anywhere close to out-speeding me. No single genius from the Academy, no Tuffle, no-one. You're a simple soldier, you cannot be smarter than them. Explain yourself!" She damns it that he has actually figured it out. Washu adjusts her lab coat's collar as she watches Vegeta prowl around her with a sickeningly smug look of self satisfaction on his face. Her plan has completely unravelled at her feet. For a few minutes she had it all, she had him at her mercy. Now she does not, and that is all that matters.
"I might not be a scholar but that in no means makes me an imbecile. I was not dropped on my head as a baby like Kakarot, though compared to your intellect I of course am lacking. Except, why would the old and feeble brains of some lab rat ever be able to compare to the mind of a true Saiyan warrior." Vegeta grins maliciously at the extreme oversight of Washu that she still has not picked up on as he continues to insult her intelligence and cement his superiority over her. A long leg extends out and soundly misses it target. Heavy, heaving breaths of rage seethe out of Washu's gritted teeth. She is at his mercy in the real world and somehow even in a world based off mental abilities he has found a way to trump her, she absolutely detests the Saiyan, what he has done and how he revels in her misfortune. This was her final plan, she cannot accept a genocidal monkey having outsmarted her and thwarted her attempt for freedom.
The stone-cold face of Vegeta appears inches away from her. She lashes out again and again and nothing comes close to even touching the Saiyan. Her best is not good enough. Vegeta tires of her efforts and grips both her wrists to stop her, without even trying she easily yanks her arms free and throws a punch straight at the bored face waiting for her to stop. A hard palm slams into her ear, leaving her disoriented and unbalanced. Her strike narrowly misses the unmoving Vegeta as she recovers from the blow. He has made his point. Washu's outrage and emotions break as she screams at the stoic man standing there, venting her frustration and hatred onto the child of the father who took everything from her.
" You can't! My mental abilities are the greatest, I am the smartest! I am the number 1 genius in the universe! What can you do that I -"
Washu freezes on the spot with her eyes wide open. The Saiyan simply nods at her as he watches the cogs in her head finally grind out the realisation of her error. A soft 'No' is uttered from her lips as she shakes her head in denial. She can't believe it to be something that should have been obvious from the get-go. Washu knew that the extreme delay to his speed due to confusion would wear off eventually, but she doesn't know how she did not foresee or predict this. Her hands grab at the side of her head. Ever since what happened to her yesterday her mind has been nowhere near what it should be, she missed something that she knows she shouldn't have and it has cost her everything. Her knees buckle.
"Your brain might be able to out perform and out calculate super computers, yet, can you control your body at anywhere close to the speeds I can? Have you mastered the ability to navigate, perceive and fight at faster than light speeds? I don't think you can. I think Little Washu was giving far too much credit to my ki and not enough to my 'simple' warrior's mind." Vegeta reiterates to the woman on her knees what she has already figured out for herself. His body is a weapon, a weapon that is useless without the mind to use it efficiently and effectively. All Washu did was simply assume that his brain managed all of that by an over reliance on his ki. Underestimating Vegeta is something she knows not to do, and yet she did it.
" I … I failed …"
The whiteness dims and quickly fades to black. Cold metal touching skin, the whining and humming of a vast array of electronics and a sterile, clean smell are what Vegeta awakes to, however all he cares about is sensing is own ki again. He smiles to himself at the feel of his ki and the strength within his actual body.
" So … what would have happened had you not toyed with me and finished me off in my confusion?" Still laying on the floor where he awoke, Vegeta asks his question to the muffled sounds he can hear close by. For a while he lays there listening as the sounds become soft sobs and then as he sits up he sees the answer to his question spelt out by the drone helpers rebuilding the lab: brain-death. Vegeta expected that, Washu would not have attempted something so rash if it would not spell a permanent end to him. Turning his head to the side he sees the small, huddled figure in the distance and walks up towards her.
Vegeta stands over the scientist weeping on the floor, curled up around an image of Yamcha held in her hand. Her magenta hair spilling out freely everywhere around her petite and juvenile body. Hearing him near her she tightens her grip on the image but does not try to run away from who she just tried to kill. Vegeta just stands there. Waiting for retribution to be delivered to her as she weeps, Washu eventually cannot stand the Saiyan's presence and silence anymore.
" Why not just finish what your father started? Go ahead, kill me. Kill me and finish off the Tuffles, it's what you Saiyans are best at." She yells shrilly up at him through wet eyes. An open palm greets her face, a palm that begins to glow. Washu flinches back at the sight of the charging blast, terror shining in her green eyes. She curls up tighter to protect the image and hide her head. The hand of the Saiyan lowers itself and the ki is discharged harmlessly back into his body, Vegeta sighs to himself looking down on such a pitiful sight.
" You do not wish for death." Shaking his head, he bends down and lifts the crying pubescent up onto her feet. Her tiny hands grab onto his forearms for support and she leans forward and rests her head against Vegeta's chest. She hates the Saiyan, and he hates her yet she desperately needs someone for support and he needs his training room back operational. Vegeta knows she purposefully hacked its gravity controls to lure him into this trap and knows the reason she tried to kill him. He hasn't sensed the ki of her lover all day. No sympathy is offered from him. Vegeta is staying purely to guarantee his training. As Washu's tears wet the front of his outfit the Saiyan begins to feel uncomfortable. Her small hands let go of his arms and bleary eyed she looks up at Vegeta, both palpable scorn and hurt on her childish face.
" Why did you have to scare off my Yamcha?" Those emerald eyes of hers lock onto Vegeta. Glaring up at him with abject contempt, she asks with the anguish of rejection and abandonment penetrating each of her words. Her tears continually flow as the stoic warrior looks down on her, the shame of being bested by him discarded behind the massive void that is within her heart. She needs her lover back, unable to stand him leaving her as he did without even a proper goodbye or break up. Yamcha has broken her heart, and she places all the blame squarely on the ruthless Saiyan who treated him like a punching bag. "Why did you have to make him leave me?"
Small hands feebly hit upon his solid chest as emotion takes Washu's logical mind from her again. She lowers her head and weeps whilst the uncaring Saiyan stands mute. Vegeta is unsure what to do and how he should go about getting her to stop the gravity fluctuations in the training room and calm her emotional state so she has no want to remotely tamper with it again. For now he goes to place a calming hand on her head. Washu violently lashes out to remove it and glowers up at him. Vegeta lowers his hand back down to his side. She has no want for his pity and knows well enough that he could not care less about her emotional well-being, Washu just has to make do with him being the only one here, and the only one who frequents her lab. Her need for a shoulder to cry on is strong.
" … You're a mindless ape who only cares for his own power … yet you're the only one who understands. How do you cope with it? How do you deal with being basically the last of your kind?" Washu quietly speaks her mind whilst never looking away from Vegeta's black eyes. The Saiyan frowns. He did not expect her to start drawing common ground between them and for him she is discussing a trivial matter he pays no mind to. She beseeches him for an answer, wanting help to stave off her own great feeling of isolation. Extinction for her is still a recent thing relative to her lifespan, occurring only several years before that of the Saiyans. Now all on her own again it has come back to haunt her, the perpetual lonesomeness that she is all that there is of the Tuffles.
" I killed Nappa, what makes you think loneliness or the passing of my people effects me?" Vegeta has no compassion for his fellow man or those Saiyans who were weak enough to die, he cannot give Washu any solace. Being on his own is how he prefers it. Solitude is how he lives. If being on his own affected him then he wouldn't spend most of his time locked in a room on his own training. Washu's eyes lower from his face. She nods softly to herself. Stepping back from him, she rubs away the tears from her eyes. Her childish features harden and sharpen as she grows until she is a good several inches taller than the Saiyan prince. One long stream of silver intertwines and weaves its way throughout the left side of her hair and crow's feet decorate her eyes as Washu stands in her middle-aged glory, still retaining her previous beauty yet in a more mature form.
" You never cared for your people, but you do care about the Saiyan way. Don't you find it so lonely that no matter where you go or how many people you meet that not a single one of them will ever understand you? The last of our kinds. There is no-one else like us and never will be, at least you have one other to share your species with. All I have is my science, my research and my lab. You must find it too that just fixating on one thing makes it easier. Working so you don't have time to think on it. … It's so empty though."
Washu finds relief that at long last there is finally someone she can talk to on equal footing about such things, even if he is marginally sociopathic and unfazed by death in general. She lets it out. Most of her words she says just for the sake of talking and to get it out of her, venting it after these decades of no-one understanding her situation or plainly pitying her for it. Vegeta clashes with everyone he meets, his whole abrasiveness and lack of social understanding being down to his embracing of the Saiyan way of life. Although her culture is not as radically different compared to others as that of Saiyans, there still exists this gap between her and that of other species. She stands there silently after speaking, a sad smile on her face as she reminisces to times before the Saiyans invaded her planet. Vegeta is not bringing much to the conversation at all, he is listening but he can't add much to a conversation about feelings he doesn't really feel to any degree. The most he does is very slightly nod at her mention of fixating on one thing. His training is his whole life, he never did much apart from it and yet he knows that after his wife's death the intensity of his training rose to levels similar to when he was trying to reach super Saiyan. It did not help him cope, all it did was help him distract himself from his loss.
" You've had to bury your wife, you've had both versions of your son die …" Her voice drops low as the scientist brings the topic to a much more personal level. Vegeta's head turns to look away and his face hardens. His aversion of discussing this is made very clear. The invulnerable and omnipotent Saiyan cannot hide the gaping weakness in his armour that is his wife's passing. If she wanted to, Washu could rub it in his face that she could have cured and saved her but she is setting aside her dislike of the murderer. Her eyes lower and she crosses her arms tightly against her chest. She has said this much so far and has a great urge to continue and empty it all out. Laying herself bare before the Saiyan is not a pleasant thought but she has no-one else and he will understand. Washu knows he is only here for her to revert his training room back to normal yet that only means she has an audience who has to hear her out.
" I've lived over 20 millennia. I've … I've outlived them all. All my friends and colleagues were wiped out by your Oozaru, all of them slaughtered, all of them killed. A-and -and before that … long, long, before that I had to watch as one by one my family passed on around me. Parents. Loved ones. … My child." Fresh tears break her calm demeanour which she quickly stifles. Done speaking as one endangered being to another she now speaks as a parent to a parent. Sorrow is written all over her face as she recounts all those she has buried in her long life. Absently, she messes with her loose hair, Vegeta raises an eyebrow in surprise. With her ability to alter her physical form he knew she was a lot older than she appeared but 20,000 years is a time frame he finds hard to wrap his head around. The Saiyan history he knows goes back but a fraction of that to the emergence of the first super Saiyan, her entire lifespan dwarfs that of his species' culture.
"You had a child?" The Saiyan asks, trying to visualise this woman in a maternal role. The despondency within her eyes at remembering her lost child is painfully clear. He now understands why she wanted to help Ryoko with her infertility. Washu nods at his question, a thin and feeble smile on her face. Though rarely having the opportunity to show it, deep down she adores children and babies.
"Had. Taken from me first by the family of the father … and then by time, as were his children as well. All gone. They're all gone but me." Lines of saline water freely mar her face, running through the creases around her lips. Classism against her common standings cost her everything as a mother, she cannot escape from the fact that she failed her own child and could not be there for him. From the cradle to the grave there were scant more than several times she saw her son, he never recognised her as his his own mother though.
Washu's weeping begins to intensify again under the bone crushing intensity of her loneliness and grief. She has no-one, no-one to call her own and no-one to love her. The closest thing she has to friends are her employers in the Juraian royal family and the Saiyan who makes a hobby of torturing her. No single mind is supposed to handle the amount of death she has witnessed throughout her years, it is a testament to her strength that she still retains a strong grip on her sanity. Of course Vegeta sees nothing wrong with classism, his elite status as a prince an integral part of who he is, however he can only imagine how utterly destroying it would be if his son went to join his wife. At best guess a large and far off quadrant of the Milky Way would become no more from his out-letting of rage. Washu motions towards him and opens her arms, wanting to feel the comfort of a person. A hand placed on her arm stops her. Vegeta does not care for a small girl crying and resting her head on his chest but he would prefer not to be pulled into the bosom of a woman so much taller than him.
"It is your choice to prolong your life, don't bemoan the consequences of your own choosing. You have chosen life for a reason, be it a cowardly fear of death or to continue your work." Keeping Washu at a distance, the icy callousness of the Saiyan brings logic to her grieving. It is true that she has suffered much loss yet her longevity is down to her and her alone. No one except for her is keeping her alive for such an inordinate amount of time. Washu's tears still fall and his hand gently squeezes her arm. Almost silently she thanks Vegeta.
The two enemies born on the red planet that is no more stand in relative silence. Washu's muffled snuffling and sniffling the only sound to disturb the humming and buzzing of their artificial scenery. She knows what Vegeta is saying and knows she should also be thankful for being graced with an ageless form of immortality. Washu has her reasons for choosing life, despite the cost against her. Wiping away her tears with the back of her sleeve, she gives a small nod to Vegeta and he lets go of her arm. To some degree she has gotten it out of her system now and breathes deeply to herself.
" … People need me. They need my inventions, my theories, my equations. Something only a genius with my amount of experience and knowledge can achieve. Same as you or Goku not being left dead due to a need of your power. We cannot be replaced. Even those we have tutored will never surpass their mentor, they lack the drive and passion that naturally springs forth in our species that no longer exist. … You had a chance for one last generation of Saiyan if-"
" Don't. True Saiyans are born and raised in the fires of war, not made by machines." Vegeta adamantly shakes his head in denial. He does not want to hear or think about Washu's offer that he ruined for himself and for Ryoko. His steely eyes fix hers with a message telling her to immediately drop what she is about to say. Washu doesn't care for his unwillingness to talk about something so important to both the Saiyans and his own love life. She wonders though whether part of the reason he declines so hard is born from loyalty or feelings for the Juraian princess who is destined to lose in this eventuality.
" Could you have declined a female Saiyan? Truthfully I highly doubt it, despite all the kind words you said to Ryoko. Your mating season is fast approaching, there is only an infinitesimally small chance that your choice would not have been made there and then. … You can tell Ryoko that it will be rebuilt, eventually. It's not high on my schedule and you've set me back a week on finalising my analysis of that critter you fought, but she will get another chance if she wants it." Stating this with no doubt in her mind, Washu watches as the Saiyan growls under his breath and scowls immensely at her disobeying his order. Getting an accurate read off of him is proving hard for her. Deducing what the actual reason for his disinclination to even consider this proposal is baffling Washu, she can think of many reasons yet no individual one that surmounts what he would gain from this. Vegeta quickly begins to retort back with a counter argument.
" The odds of her coming out unscathed and alive however-"
"My machine will not harm-"
" I'm talking about me. You know what damage Saiyans can do and you are probably the only one here who can fully understand the true nature of the power I wield. Strip from me my control and my mind … Ryoko would die, by my hand. My power is too great for her to have any hope of surviving that time… What about you though Washu? Given the chance would you have asked him to?" His reason is now out in the open, the protection of Ryoko from his lust filled self that he intensely dislikes and distrusts, and having promptly turned the table back on its head he sees Washu clap her hands over her ears. She has no place in arguing such things to him if she is in the same predicament as him and has not done so herself. Moisture forms at the edges of Washu's eyes again. Being reminded of the man who walked out on her is hurting her. She doesn't want to talk about Yamcha, she doesn't want to talk about all the sad things in her life anymore.
"No! Don't talk about him. It's all your fault that you got rid of him! I loved him and now he's gone." With a sharp yell, Washu reverts back to placing all the guilt of her failed relationship on Vegeta. She shouts in his face and points at him. Vegeta calmly stands there and crosses his arms.
"The blame does not primarily lie on my shoulders."
"No. It was you!" Vehemently, and with great rage in her voice, Washu shrieks at the Saiyan. Not even daring to listen to the dangerous words he just said, or giving them any thought whatsoever out of fear. No dark smile or smug smirk is on the sadistic warrior's face as he speaks clearly and in a factual manner as rational thought abandons Washu. Those green eyes of hers normally so analytical now appear wild, her whole expression like that of a cornered animal. Vegeta steps towards Washu and she hurriedly backs away. A powerful grip seizes both her arms and as she shouts at him he lowers her arms and prevents her from covering her ears.
" You drove him away on your own, without much help from me. Think on how you treated him, think on your lack of trust in him. A measly human can only take so much."
One quiet whimper is all that bursts from Washu's pursed lips. Every ounce of strength drains from her limbs as she limply hangs in Vegeta's strong grasp, her head hanging low and her pink hair falling over her face. Loud cries soon begin to sound throughout the lab. Harsh echoes rebounding back ring raucously in a grief-stricken chorus. She weeps aloud for her rent heart until her throat is dry, her face sodden with sorrow and her slim arms begin to ache from the hold of the Saiyan. Washu damns herself, cursing her abuse and maltreatment of her lover until she drove him away. Her fun and games having obviously gone too far for too long and at no point did she think to stop. Taking in a rattling breath she just keeps murmuring the same word over and over to herself; 'stupid'. The number 1 genius in the universe couldn't even tell that she was pushing someone away, she was unaware and blinded by her ego that he would ever leave her side. She feels dumb.
Motion enters her arms as she begins to fidget, her long fingers clenching tight against her palms, she wants to be let go and to be on her own now. Vegeta's hands remain firm. Washu gets her legs under her and stands up, through her swollen bloodshot eyes she stares at the warrior and strains to be released. Her weak sobbing continues as she attempts to take on and deal with the fact that it might not be Vegeta but her who she should be blaming, though her feeble struggles accomplish nothing. Vegeta calls for quiet from her, she does not silence herself or stop. In a very simple manner to stop her from trying to escape Vegeta takes to the skies with his grip being the only thing preventing her from falling. Hands wrap around his biceps and very quickly Washu is now trying to get closer to the man holding her aloft at a fatal height, fear and confusion entering her woeful visage.
" I was there when he split with Bulma, this isn't his style. It's too quiet, too cowardly. He'll come back, maybe. He sees in you a little bit of her just like I do. … What happens now is down to you. Fix the gravity room, woman, and I'll be on my way." Having said what he needs to, he descends, releases Washu and begins walking out of the laboratory. His bare feet pad silently on the floor and his black hair vanishes into the bleak darkness of the scientific realm. Vegeta is satisfied that his words will have calmed her down and allow him to get back to his training now without further interruptions. However, he feels his tongue betrayed him in admitting that the pink haired scientist reminds him of his own blue haired genius. On her own again, Washu waves her hand for her floating cushion and heavily sits down on it. Silently, tears fall from her emerald eyes and she tries to find hope in Vegeta's words. She tries to see it as perhaps a second chance but her great mind is complicating matters by over-thinking it and weighing up the odds that she won't be able to win him back over. Forcing a very weak smile onto her face in the vain hope that her romance has not yet ended, Washu summons to hand her holo-top. For the wetness clouding her eyes she cannot see what it displays, but from memory she access the correct programme and shuts down the interference for the artificial gravity generator.
"Fine then, if it will stop you pestering me so, I … I-I … I love Lord Vegeta with all my heart! "
A door closes quietly as Vegeta steps out from Washu's demesne. He stands still with his hand still on the door knob and looks across to the source of the voice. The pure hearted maiden of Jurai stands next to the floor to ceiling window with the noon sun streaming down around her, with rosy cheeks at having confessed she gradually turns around to face the cop who wheedled the truth out from her. Kiyone is too busy though standing up and sending a wry smile towards Vegeta as she excuses herself from the room, her work done. Calling from the doorway for Mihoshi to follow her and then arguing back that she cannot play with the karaoke machine, the two police officers leave the room.
Ayeka stands perfectly frozen in place, her slender and delicate frame silhouetted against the bright sunlight. Her mouth hangs slightly open, her maroon eyes wide in shock and a raging conflagration of red flushes her entire face. Vegeta isn't too sure what he just walked in on or what to do, his black pupils shifting uncomfortably away from the woman who just unknowingly proclaimed her love to him. He takes his hand off of the door and looks back across at Ayeka, who stands stock still and petrified. A nervous sound escapes her and her paralysed legs manage to shuffle back an inch. Vegeta inhales and exhales through his nostrils and then starts walking towards the princess. More nervous stutterings break from Ayeka's throat as her hands raise to her crimson cheeks, she tries to back away further but soon feels the smooth glass behind her, and breaking two windows in as many days might be an option but she is too embarrassed for that thought to even cross her mind. Vegeta now stands before her, with his thick arms crossed, Ayeka's mind can't handle this. A miniscule trembling enters her body and her legs feel weak with him stood so close to her, the loud pounding of her heart deafening in her ears.
"P-p-please ta-take responsibility for-for-for … Lord V-Vegeta it's your duty to take responsibility for your actions against me as a woman, a-and as your f- fi- fi- fiancée." Bowing down low, with her long braid whipping over her shoulder, Ayeka almost head-butts Vegeta as she blurts out the only follow up to her confession that her shamed mind could think of. She closes her eyes tight and keeps her head bowed so as not to see the Saiyan. Her whole face burns a bright red at saying such a thing to him, Ayeka can barely believe that she could dare to say something so aggressive towards him yet she was not exactly thinking straight at the time. Furthermore she can't believe that she was tricked into so unashamedly declaring her love for him just as he walks into the room, it's not how she wanted to finally say it to him at all. It makes her feel guilty to just suddenly thrust this pressure onto him without warning but she doesn't know what else to say or do, her mind in a complete daze and her heart stubbornly stuck in her throat. She takes a deep breath, not even having realised that she was holding her breath the entire time.
"That worked the first time I heard it, but at that point I had already consummated my relationship with Bulma. I'm afraid you'll have to try harder than that, not that I'm debasing your pride or maidenhood. Lady Ayeka, stand." Dealing with things in a collected manner, Vegeta rests one of his rough palms on the princess' shoulder, he feels her flinch at his touch. A quiet and disappointed mewl comes from her bowed head. In a very slow and hesitant manner she stands back up, raising her blushing head slowly with her deep red eyes looking at the Saiyan, then away, and then back at him again. Biting her lower lip in anxiety and holding onto the front of her dress, Ayeka mutely asks for forgiveness for her rudeness. Her hands continue to fidget and one stray glance towards her shoulder gets Vegeta to remove his hand from her.
" Fine, you have my forgiveness. I do not appreciate being forced into things yet I can accept your reasoning for asking thus of me. … Do you want me to thank you for your proclamation also, for you know not to expect an answer from me till the tournament." Having just got out of an awkward and uncomfortable conversation with Washu he had no want to have, Vegeta is trying to find the patience to act in a civil manner towards Ayeka. He has a great desire to begin his training again, yet he knows better than to rudely walk out on Ayeka after what she accidentally said to him. Guessing that he is going to have to have another conversation about emotions and such, he resigns himself to the fact that his training may be delayed a few minutes; giving himself the excuse that it will be enough time to ensure Washu sorts out the gravity with him not knowing she has already already done so. Ayeka drops her gaze and looks down at her hands, releases her dress and clasps her hands together and then faintly smiles to herself.
"No, no, it's … it's fine. I'm … I'm happy that I finally got to say it to you, Lord Vegeta. I dropped my facade, like you said." With some of the shame dying down from so foolishly blurting out her innermost feelings, a new emotion is building inside her chest: one of mirth. Though entirely unintentional she cannot help but be glad that after all this time she has managed to speak her heart and admit her feelings. Not wanting to be someone who throws words of such magnitude so freely about and cheapening them like Ryoko does, she still felt left behind by her rival in her ability to announce her love so openly whilst she hid behind her embarrassment. This little flame of joy burning inside her evokes a true radiance to her small and timid smile. Such a smile would be infectious to most, her cute face and obvious joy would spread warmth heart to most men, Vegeta is not most by any means.
The Saiyan hears her heartfelt words yet discards them as soon as she mentions her facade. He is not so forgetful as to forget their last conversation, nor is he dull enough not to pick up on the subtext of her words. Vegeta is aware where this conversation will progress to. Ayeka has made it clear how she perceives him, his Saiyan nature and ruthlessness but a hollow front. Great pride can only be held by those with a great sense of self, doubting one's true identity, who and what you are, or are becoming, undermines his unyielding pride. In his warrior's eyes such talk might as well be an attack on him, an attack to break his honour. Vegeta does not smile in response to Ayeka's happiness. For a while he stands there with his eyes being drawn to the outside world behind Ayeka where his son playfully dodges and teases an enraged Ryoko. Uncaring as to how his son became more accepting of the women and less hostile, he looks back down at the glowing princess with a glacial iciness in his expression. He will set things straight, no mincing of his words at all, and he will leave no misunderstandings about who he is.
"And now you want me to do the same. Is that what you hope for with me, to bring out the goodness inside my heart and turn me into a kind and compassionate prince worthy of Jurai? I am a Saiyan, building me up with all those expectations of yours will do you no good. I will never be like those puny mortals, or like those ideals you probably hold for the 'perfect' prince. That is a transformation I will never possess. I will fight for you, kill for you and die for you, but never will I be able to hold what most deem a normal relationship." The warm and tender smile on Ayeka's face is mercilessly wiped from her face as Vegeta callously reminds her he has no want to change and has a very offset moral compass. He doesn't want to cause undue hurt to Ayeka yet he is losing tolerance in having his 'Saiyan-ness' always put in question. Vegeta sees a wavering in her eyes as she listens to his attempts at dispelling the notion that he can be 'bettered' in that sense. For his want to not cause her hurt he has failed. As usual his cold hearted words has killed the happy and even slightly romantic mood she had set, killed it stone dead.
" You're not a killer anymore!" An unexpected burst of anger erupts out from Ayeka. Him having so thoughtlessly spoilt her important moment where she verbally confesses her feelings to his face has riled her up. She intensely dislikes whenever he reverts back to this, like he always does, and wants him to stop relying on this simple defence mechanism whenever anyone dares to mention his changing identity. Ayeka brushes back her braided hair behind her slim shoulders as sternness seizes her cute face. Even if it means banging her head against the brick wall that is his stubbornness until he finally concedes, for the well-fare of her heart she will get him to cease this childish retort of stirring up the long dead past he won't let lie buried. He is entitled to skeletons in his closet, however she won't let him cart around the skulls on public display whenever she tries to hold a meaningful conversation with him.
" Regretfully."
"No! Please, Lord Vegeta, must you always put on this bravado. Must you always talk about your heinous crimes as if all those lives mean nothing to you. Do you know how hard it was for me to accept your dark past?" Ayeka's raised voice pleads at him to stop pushing her like this for she has said before how it upsets her so. To her it is as if he is purposefully trying to aggravate her, instead of just trying to cease a topic of conversation. She has spent long nights thinking hard on what he is and what he has done, spent hours searching her soul to see whether she has it in her to look past his bloody past and he stands there aloof trying to undo all that because he cannot face the transition that has and still is occurring within him. It leaves her wondering how his first wife ever managed to cope with him during his first years of domestication, and in darker places in her mind it leaves her wondering if a good relationship could ever form between her and her prince. He must know that what he is saying is false and she will get him to realise it. No heartless Saiyan killer would promise to never kill, would save her life nor would they still be grief stricken by the loss of a wife a year after her passing.
"If I were capable of feeling remorse for murder then my mind and sanity would have been crushed after the first planet. A single life within those billions is equivalent to nothing."
" Stop. Please! Stop, just stop talking about such horrible things. You don't mean it, you don't! I don't like it, Vegeta."
"My past can neither be altered nor swept under the carpet, the least I can do is honour them by remembering. If you stop trying to push your ideals onto me then I will stop countering with my sins."
" That's … That's not good enough."
Ayeka brings their butting of heads and shouting match to a close as she takes a deep breath and regains her demure composure. Even though he has plainly admitted he only discusses his terracidal past as a diversion for things he would rather never say, she knows he will just hurt her if she tries to argue anymore. Vegeta stands there waiting for her to continue as he formulates his next offensive in his head, her tenacity on the subject infuriates him however if she easily gave up on matters then he would find that a much worse trait. Crimson eyes flicker away from his face momentarily as she carefully choose her next words and summons the courage to say them. Telling herself that if she can say her feelings to him then she can say this to him, she calmly and coolly says his name. A very serious tone enters her words and face. She has had enough games and since Vegeta always cuts to the chase then so will she.
" I have noticed that you are fond of making deals with her and so I have a deal of my own for you: I, Princess Ayeka of Jurai, will forgive you, Prince Vegeta of the Saiyans, if you swear to me that I will never come second to that room." She states in an authoritative tone as she dismissively points her hand to the large metal door and watches Vegeta's expression change. It is a very large gamble and she knows it. The Saiyan looks incredulously at her, not believing his ears that she would even think to ask something so monumental to him. For all purposes that room is him. He lives to train, training is his life and that is where he trains.
"Forgive me of what?" Vegeta snaps back brusquely, sounding irritated as his eyes stay locked on the entrance to his training room. Only one time has he asked for forgiveness in his entire life and that was to his wife after his Majin phase. The Juraian princess observes the scowl on his face and presses on, with all her eggs in one basket she gives him her demands again.
"Speaking ill towards me, hurting me, your indiscretions with the she-beast. I – I need your answer now, Lord Vegeta. Give me a sign that I am not wasting my time and my h- h-he - heart on you." Her emotions and shyness begin to interfere with her words yet she manages to say it all and at the last sentence she jerks out her right hand with its palm facing downwards. Rosiness tints her cheeks again as her hand hangs there awaiting his obeisance, waiting for the Saiyan prince to show his acceptance of her demands by kneeling before her and kissing her hand. Standing strong against the crashing waves, she asks of the ocean to stop its tide.