Profle of a Saiyan Prince

02. Saiyan hands

drabble by Bulmapsut

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It's often said that the eyes are the window to the soul, but when we describe a person, we rarely focus on their hands… much less on the story they tell us.
Strong, powerful, skilled hands. Saiyan hands: scarred and weathered. Surely filled with countless broken bones that have mended over time. How many galaxies have these hands been aimed at, how many planets have they purged, how many lives have they extinguished? Space worlds incinerated and devastated with just the raising of a palm or a Final Flash. A cosmic saga summarized in ten fingers. Quadrants traversed by pressing a single button in his spacepod.

Violent, rough, calloused, precise, cold, threatening hands. Hands that didn't hesitate to extinguish life, not even the life of the most loyal, the closest one. How many civilians, children, and women did they decimate? All the power of his ki, his absurdly immense fighting power, contained in his palms in a ball of energy, requiring just a single motion to unleash it.

Tired hands, aged by a mercenary lifestyle. Hands that always clenched into a fist, but in the moment of his utmost weakness, became submissive, incapable of preventing his own death: lifeless hands.

Hands that came back to life, throbbing, finding themselves on unfamiliar land.

Hands that, suddenly, in the least expected moment—when they should have been crushed and drained of every last drop of energy—became manly with just… one… careless, innocent touch from other hands, clean hands, unshaded like his. With that subtle yet electrifying contact, these hands traveled farther than they ever had through the vastness of space. A wall was broken, an abyss crossed, and there was contact. They awakened to others, felt another person, close and inviting. Different kinds of sensations stirred: no more taking, no more depriving, now simply feeling, freely giving, enjoying. Hands that grew more confident, now warm, sure, and gentle.

Hands of a partner. Hands that, whether delicately or passionately, hold ones more fragile. Hands that, at night, are present, comforting and embracing, distributing caresses. Deceptive hands, how they hide their dark past. These hands couldn't… had... not… they couldn't, because they feel so good! Hands that wipe away tears and dissolve fears, chasing away ghosts.

Hands that finally cradle new life: in his two children, despite all the death they carry within them. Hands that now, more than ever… protect, teach, and secure. Sacrificed hands.

All that these Saiyan hands represent. After this, you'll never see them the same way again.