Tsuki no Hikari

BY : setbl
Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 1965
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT/etc. characters and related materials belong to Akira Toriyama and respective owners; the rest is mine. No monetary profit is made from any portion of this fan fiction.

Dryu, thank you for the honest and kind review. Sounds like you got to read the first chapter before it was taken down because I had forgotten that there’s a limited word count allowed for both chapter and author’s note. Everything I said there still holds true, though I won’t waste time reposting to no avail. I did want all that I said to be known, but many didn’t get to see the original A/N, so I will just have to be more specific in my details while writing. Thanks again. I hope you continue to enjoy.

Macha, I am so happy you are enjoying the story thus far and hope that I can keep you looking forward to more. This second chapter is more for information and elucidation of characters/couples/moresomes not Piccolo and Gohan, but they will have their moments here and much more as the story progresses. I do intend to finish this story eventually as I can—I hope to eventually finish all my stories—and will do my best to do so well. Thank you so much for having the kindness and courtesy to review. I hope I can keep you interested and touched.

Thank you to all who R&R; your honestly and courtesy help me grow as writer, you are all sincerely appreciated.

On with the story…  


Gohan shivered in his amnesic shishou’s arms as he surreally felt exquisite lips pressed to his neck; veritably incredulous, though not in his right mind and thoroughly aching for much more to happen, oblivious of the pain it would obviously cause his body to go through with such an act. Rational thought had become fleeting by then, so he did nothing to impede Long, drowning in the touches he had dreamed of for so long as powerful hands and fingers gripped around him tighter. He even moaned when a fang grazed his skin; a thorough erection springing to life below.


Long halted immediately after that something within him screamed; his eyes widening, horror permeating his person once he was awakened to what he had almost done. No! Such a thing must not happen again!

Long shot up then and ran as fast as he could through and out of the cavern and into the luckily by then dark evening woods. He cursed himself for having lost control for even a moment. Yes, for whatever reason he did subsist off the lifeblood of the living, and Gohan certainly smelled absolutely delectable, unlike any other prey he’d had. But he was not prey! He was… hopefully a friend, a companion? Yes, he hoped with his whole being that they could become real companions, could ease one another’s lonesome and anguishing burden somehow. He would never admit it aloud, but he was really lonely.    

When he had first awoken about a month ago, he had been naked, disoriented and so thoroughly—alone. Yet, he wasn’t at all afraid or cold in the obviously frigid ambient weather. He walked for a long while unsure of where he was, was going or why; merely pushing forward, feeling the powerful need to find—something...?

Once he came across a city—though it was night—the moment people got a good look at him they started screaming in terror, running from him, their fear so visceral he could taste it, others beginning to point weapons at him and shoot, so he ran without looking back. And as he ran an overwhelming and unrelenting hunger he could not recall having had before overtook him.

He crashed through someone’s window then, his body moving without him, grabbing the body of a lone man before he could think let alone fight back. He pierced the lanky man’s throat with ease; warm fluid essence beginning to gush from him to himself as he drank voraciously. Though, no matter how ravenously he drank, more did not seem to be enough! And no matter how much part of him cried for him to stop, he could not. He only slowed some when skinny weakly shaking arms strove to find their way around his waist; the man whispering ever so softly with his last bit of strength: “T-thank you…. I’m so tired… of trying so hard for naught…. Now I can finally… rest.”

Something shattered within Long then, but he still could not cease—the maddening hunger unrelenting—not until his prey’s heart had. And when it finally did, Long miserably let go, gingerly lying the sad and limp body on the disheveled bed in the tiny-roomed pitiful excuse for an apartment. He had no clue who or what he was, but that poor young man’s memories began to flow through him as if they were his own. The man’s own race—so-called human beings—had treated him cruelly, using things that were beyond his control like his natural physical attributes: the level of pigmentation of his skin or any part of his body, eye or nose shape, and hair texture; sexual orientation; and gender identity as lame and totally asinine excuses to act in fecklessly primitive cowardly behavior and torment him with their heinous and cowardly activities to denigrate him and amuse and falsely exult themselves. The lanky man had finally reached the limit of the abuse he could take. He was a peaceful and courageously kind and loving soul. But he had been through too much undeserved hell for too much of his short life; having reached his personal limit. For, had Long not taken his life then, he would have done so himself very soon.

Long felt very cold at these revelations, promising himself then that he would never lose control again, the scent of the dead man’s lingering despair stifling, only mounting his own. How he wished he could have somehow helped him truly instead of merely taking his life. And he knew, if he ever found the dastards that had harmed him, he would surely give them a taste of their own medicine.

Days later he snuck into town at night—after digging his way out of the deep hole in the ground he had dug as protection after being burnt the first time at daylight, which he had continued to use to escape the sun every day since at that point—and took clothes that would fit his grand stature from certain shops and dressed. There wasn’t much that fit him, so he had to make do with what he could get. He also snuck around more and tried the refrigerated essence in hospitals and meat shops. He learned quickly that that stuff never worked; if anything it only made the hunger more viscous and painful, granting him even less in control. No, his prey would unfortunately always have to be live.

From then on, he subsisted off the blood of live game in the wilderness outside the city. He eventually found a lonely cavern far enough away from peoples and their developments and began making it into a home for himself. Every night he woke and polished it a little more to suit his taste; making long treks to shops to procure items he fancied, leaving cured meat and pelts as payment, not wanting any part of his preys to go to waste and feeling bad for just taking things. While out he would also search: for any clues to his existence, for any more of his kind, for any explanation whatsoever. But he never found anything remotely helpful; eventually returning to his claimed cavern before the sun rose.

One time, however, he found the saddest thing while on one of his nightly quests over the earth. He had travelled a lot farther than usual, even digging holes and using foreign caverns along the way to avoid daylight when necessary, determined to get further than he ever had before, something unspoken urging him on. On this warmer section of the earth, a broken body dressed in a sleeveless deep violet dogi tied with a red obi had washed up upon the shore. He had no idea why he felt such urgency, but he immediately ran to the unresponsive young man and checked his vitals, panicking when there were none.

He began to pound on his chest then desperately; oblivious and unknowing why tears had begun to mar his own face, why his chest began to ache unbearably. He only knew with all his being that the young man must not die, beginning to breathe life into him in between pounding on his chest.

His heart was breaking the longer his attempts went on in vain. Just before he was about to give up and carry the dead man somewhere to be buried, absolute despair racking his person for the loss of one he couldn’t have possibly known; with one last pound on the dead man’s chest a strange wave of energy pulsed from his own hands to the pale man, a tail strangely sprouting from the man’s backside then, seawater spewing out of him and causing him to cough harshly many times before he was silent and immobile once more.

Long didn’t know what to feel then; though something within him was unmistakably relieved. The tailed man’s heart was beating, he was breathing even though he remained unconscious—there was hope!

Long quickly found a house with supplies; knocking its inhabitants out with a psychic wave he hadn’t before then known he could use. And after cutting away the young man’s disheveled clothing, cleaning him up and carefully taking care of and wrapping his harsh injuries, the sun was close to rising. He had no choice but to stay one day in a stranger’s home, keeping them unconscious with the newly realized ability as necessary and all the curtains closed.

He didn’t sleep that day; keeping vigil over the young man, waiting patiently for night as he meditated. Once night came again and he had fished for the family whose house and supplies he’d been using; he carefully wrapped the tailed man in some warm blankets and tied him to his back, leaving the fish he’d caught in a large metal tub as payment and thanks to the unconscious family for using their home and supplies. He was so determined to get the tailed man somewhere safe to heal, though unwilling to fully trust people after learning of all the cowardly evils they could do to even one another with no remorse, no disgust, no shame; he made it back to his cavern nights ahead of schedule at early dawn, just before the sun could do real damage to him, and had been taking care of him ever since.

Anguish-weighted tears trailed Long’s face as the only memories he could recall continued to run through the front of his mind. Lucid guilt and pain had quelled his undesired hunger momentarily, but the scents and sounds of the night quickly rekindled it.  He knew he had to hunt and feed before returning to Gohan; otherwise he’d risk harming his new... companion. If only he didn’t have to kill to live….


“Uuhhh… grrr… uuhh… hheheheh… mmmhh… uuuhhhnnn… Tooruuunnkkuss!” panting loudly and finally screamed a dark wild-haired demi-Saiyajin at the top of his lungs, his nails biting into the sheets below him, his knuckles turning white, his body soaked in sweat and passion and on blissful fire as his lover and mate of years continued to pound his ass from behind.

Trunks only smirked wider; angling and deepening his strokes, regulating his rhythm to draw out their pleasure. He knew he’d win the bet, getting his love to scream his name before he climaxed; for Goten was a very loud and expressive lover. No matter how hard he strove to hold it all in, Goten would eventually scream out his name and he loved it; they both did.

Trunks groaned and bit his lip when Goten’s tight hot fleshy walls began tightening around him even more, waves of pure pleasure beginning to take them both, his thrusts becoming more frenzied. “Fuck!” he cried out, undulations of almost painful bliss continuing for much longer than either of them had experienced before, Goten’s face bright red as half of it and his upper body were impressed deeper into the mattress, neither of them able to stop their thrusting hips towards the other if they wanted to. The waves were immaculately intense and took them both higher than they’d ever been for an unknown amount of time. With one last intense thrust Trunks’ balls tightened, his seed spewing forcefully into his mate, his mate’s release splurging into the protective towel below him as he screamed Trunks’ name at the top of his lungs.  

Both remained quiet for a while after collapsing onto the bed and each other; only the sound of their breath trying to regulate disturbing the silence. Trunks thought everything was okay—until he scented his mate’s distress and felt him begin shuddering underneath him. He bit his lip then; angrier at Gohan than ever and quite frustrated with his mate, most of the good feelings from what would have been their most excellent love session lost, easing out of his mate and gingerly turning them both over so they were facing each other.

“Goten, you can’t keep doing this to yourself, to us. Gohan is a grown man and can and does make his own decisions. You’ve got to learn to accept that…. I know you love your older brother very much, but you neither can nor should attempt to breathe for him,” he urged softly yet firmly, his hand affectionately venturing through Goten’s wild demi locks as he gazed at him seriously.

“I know. I just wish he would have talked to someone honestly. I wish I would have been more observant. I certainly wouldn’t have let him keep wallowing in his own sorrow…. I just can’t believe I didn’t have a clue he was in love with Piccolo. If anyone should have known, it should have been-”

“There you go again Goten. Please stop. I think if anyone’s hurting most right now, it’s Videl. As much as it had to have pained her, she finally realized things herself and pushed him to follow his heart, only to lose him entirely. How do you think her and Pan are feeling, having no idea where he or Piccolo is or how they’re doing; Shen Long, Porunga and the Kaios useless in even giving a clue as to their whereabouts or why we cannot sense or return them? Even poor Dende is heartbroken right now that he’s unable to help, feeling useless as Kami of Earth; his own mates even unable to console him.”

“I know… I’m sorry, Trunks. I just can’t help the way I feel,” he uttered, sniffing audibly, attempting to turn away from his mate. But Trunks pulled him to himself and embraced him warmly, his long powerful lilac tail curling around that of his mate.

“Somehow things will turn out alright. Keep believing that and let your positivity reach Gohan wherever he is to help him back home. That’s the most any of us can do now,” whispered Trunks, his voice saturated in emotion then as well, his own piercing cerulean eyes shimmering as he strove to be strong for his mate. He had always been the stronger of the two, but Goten had always been the sweeter—perhaps stronger in his own way.

“Ah,” answered Goten lightly, his tail tightening around that of his mate as he ducked his face into the juncture of Trunks’ neck and shoulder, the two of them holding each other a few moments more before getting up for the day.


Pan and Bura lay quietly in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Though, instead of a nice sated one, a silence pregnant with great anxiety held them both tightly; Bura the first to break it.

“Pan, you cannot keep letting this eat you up. I know you were-… that you are close with your father and Piccolo. But you mustn’t keep putting the blame on yourself. It’s not your-”

“Isn’t though? Maybe if it had been Trunks and Goten to go search for the Black Star Dragon Balls like they were supposed to, Baby would have been defeated before he ever could have entered other lifeforms to get stronger and come to Earth. The Black Star Dragon Balls would have been brought back to Earth and safely tucked away never to be used again… Piccolo wouldn’t have felt the need to give his life… Dad would… none of this would have-”

Bura immediately embraced her lover of two years earnestly just as the damn burst; holding her tightly and rubbing her back as indigo sheets fell around them. “Shh… No more. You promised you would stop doing this, Pan,” she urged strongly, pulling away to lift her mate’s chin to peer into her stunning obsidian eyes. “You did what any adventurous nine-year-old would have done—you followed your heart, went on an adventure and did help out a great deal. None of it’s your fault. Some things happen beyond our control. But we must be strong so that we can keep going and keep hope alive,” Bura proclaimed resolutely, sheen aqua-hued locks spilling past her ears.

Pan sniffed and wiped at her face. “You know, you don’t like fighting much, but sometimes I wonder if you’re not the stronger of us,” said Pan, trying to chuckle her way out of painful emotion.

“You know if I really trained and gave my all I could whip your ass any day,” quipped Bura, trying to smirk, though her jewel-like cerulean eyes were still serious and imploring of her mate.   

Pan smirked then. “You really are your father’s daughter.”

“You know you love it,” she informed mock-haughtily, her aqua-hued tail slapping Pan playfully, Pan’s riposting. And with that Bura pulled Pan into a deep sensual kiss—their hot demi-Saiyajin tongues dueling for dominance within sultry recesses—wrapping her arms around her once more, their wet naked buoyant breasts bumping and sliding against each other as the kiss became more heated.

After pulling away for breath, they held each other almost desperately for a long moment; their foreheads touching each other intimately for a while before they both got up, showered, dressed and had breakfast together before going their separate ways to work—Pan to her own dojo and Bura to her own beauty salon/spa. It was a new day. They had to keep moving.   


“Dende, please come rest with Marron and me. This isn’t healthy.”

Dende’s bloodshot eyes slowly turned to gaze at his mate. “Uub. I cannot stop. I am supposed to Guardian of Earth… But… look how many times I’ve failed her. And… Gohan and Piccolo… how could I not sense-”

Uub swiftly encircled Dende in his powerful arms then; not allowing him to turn away. “We all care for them. And no one has put more effort into loving, guarding the earth and her inhabitants than you, no one. You have failed no one. And Mister Popo will let us know if anything has changed. So please, come rest so that once they’re found, you can help them,” implored Uub earnestly, planting a kiss to Dende’s head in between his antennae.

“They’re out there; I know it, I can feel it in my bones. I just wish I-”

“Rest my Love, please. If you say they are out there, they are. Don’t you want to be ready so that you can help when the time comes?”

Dende peered into his mate’s eyes then, painful tears trickling down his face. But he nodded in the affirmative, reluctantly allowing himself to be carried bridal style to his, Uub’s and Marron’s bed; the egg he had lad after Uub had fertilized it during their lovemaking weeks ago resting easy in the light blue bassinet and a six month pregnant Marron sleeping quite soundly, though the crème sheets and covers all over the place, both sighing as they gazed at Kuririn and Juuhachigo’s daughter, their mate thoughtfully.

“It’ll be alright Dende. You’ll see.”

No more was said as they both dressed in their pajamas and got in alongside their lovely Marron; sleep finding them soon due to their exhaustion.


“Kakarotto, do not tell me you are still worried about the earth! Was it not you who insisted that the next generation needed to be able to protect it; that it could and should not always be us?”

“It’s not that Vegeta… And I know Pan, Bura, Uub, Trunks and Goten could probably take care of most threats that might come to Earth. That’s not why I’m…”

“Then what Kakarotto, and do be clear? I do not want you messing up what was supposed to be a thoughtful anniversary present for our wives,” urged Vegeta heatedly, his exasperated glare not going unnoticed by Goku.

Goku sighed heavily before answering. “We’ve been out in space for months now. It’s been fun and all. I love to see and learn about new places, people and things. And I love to see the three of you smile so much more than you know…” He paused a moment to smile warmly at his Saiyajin no Ouji; reveling in the fact that he could make him blush with just a look now. “…But I can’t help but feel like something is wrong with Gohan, that-”

“Kakarotto, I am going to tell you this one last time. Do not make me repeat myself. Gohan is grown and made his choice years ago; just as he keeps making his own decisions each and every day of his life. If it is not to his liking, he needs to do something about it. A closed mouth just won’t get fed,” he finished curtly, folding his arms in his signature fashion while scowling as his tail tip flicked.

Goku sighed heavily then. While Vegeta wasn’t wrong about Gohan, he couldn’t help but feel like it was partly his fault as a parent. He never seemed to be as observant of important things as well as he would like. But, he had finally seen it in his eldest son’s eyes when the whole Z gang had gathered for the farewell party, to see them off on their trip—that his son was merely existing instead of fully living, merely going through expected motions and reactions, his mask of contentment fooling everyone so well, including him up to that point. He wished he would have at least talked to him before the four of them had left on this lavish excursion through space in Bulma’s best designed craft yet; the guilt becoming unbearable.

Vegeta grimaced as he watched Goku frown in contemplation. The eldest brat had had them all fooled. Anyone that had noticed—himself included—would have said something to him if they had only known. But they hadn’t, and he had made his own decision. It was up to him to be man enough to live with it or choose another way.

However, the longer he gazed at his lament-filled, frustrated subject’s face, the less he could take it; pushing up onto his tippy toes to kiss and wrap his other mate in a comforting embrace; Goku participating slowly, somewhat reluctantly.

Had you told Vegeta, just over a year ago that he would be kissing, going through the throes of passion, making love with a man he had absolutely loathed at their first meeting and much time after, obsessing over defeating him throughout the years until they had finally ascended their harsh rivalry to later become real friends; he would have never believed it.

But it was true. After the mutant Tsufurujin Baby had been defeated and people returned to New Earth, he had begun seeking his fellow Saiyajin out, in the beginning only to spar; much feeling the need to reach the new level of Super Saiyajin exhibited by Kakarotto, knowing he was the only one who could help him do so. They would spar fervently for many hours a few days a week; only going seriously hard when Senzu were available, both loving every blood and power-drenched minute of it. And soon months turned into years, and Vegeta had begun to see Kakarotto in a new light; his wished-back-to-child body having grown back into his immaculate ageless adult one. He would even smile around him, not catching himself in time to deny it; causing Goku to grin wider and himself to smile again.  

It wasn’t until lying down with his wife after an all-day spar and a later shower that he was forced to acknowledge just how deep their relationship had become. His sapphire-eyed, blue-haired princess peered at him more seriously than she ever had before; causing him to swallow thickly as he fidgeted in their covers. He knew by the look he had best just still himself and listen intently until she was through speaking.

“Vegeta, my amazing Saiyajin no Ouji…” Vegeta blushed then without trying to. No one ever complimented him like Bulma. And even after wondrous decades with her, years without having done evil, he still didn’t believe he deserved her sincere love, acceptance and worship.

Bulma loved that she could still get him to blush, and would have smiled had the subject at hand not been so severe. “…I need to speak with you about something serious.” She paused a moment then to breathe before continuing. “As much as I hate to admit it, I am not as spry as I used to be and am not going to be around forever. In all likelihood, because of your kind’s strong constitution, you will probably outlive me; just as Goku will outlive Chichi….”

Though his face remained unreadable; Vegeta felt like his heart was in a vise, surely screaming on the inside. He had known the truth without her having to tell him; he just wasn’t ready to have the heavy conversation. It was too soon; wasn’t it?! And couldn’t they just use the Dragon Balls to make her young again, so they would age more closely together?! Did they really have to talk about this, now?! She wasn’t sick, was she?! No. He didn’t scent illness from her. Just what-?

“…I want you to be happy, no matter how many more years you might live than me. I want you to live like the wonderful Saiyajin no Ouji I have been blessed to get to know and love—to the fullest, never wasting a moment or giving up, and continuing to honor your people greater than any monarch that came before you…”

No, he wasn’t going to do it. He was absolutely not going to cry. Damn this baka tensai onna! No one else could pull his heartstrings like her.

And tears did fill the prince’s eyes without his say, but he did his damnedest to make sure they did not fall; them not leaving that of his mate.

“…How do you feel about Goku?”

“What the hell does Kakarotto have to with this?!” Vegeta blurted; unable to fully contain himself at this point.

“Quite a lot, really. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other now. I have never seen either of you so simultaneously happy yet so thoroughly longing.”

“I would never-”

“You are attracted to him Vegeta. I can see—feel you undress him every time you lay eyes on him. But even more extraordinary than that, you love him Vegeta and he returns that love happily. And while Chichi and I are grateful that neither of you has attempted to cross the line, remaining honorable to us; we’re more than glad, relieved that you both feel that way for each other.”

Bulma?!” uttered Vegeta in disbelief.

“I want you to collect the Dragon Balls and wish yourself to be the same age as Goku. Since he was never returned to his original age, he’d otherwise probably outlive us all. He’s got a lot of life left in him, just as you do. At least the two of you ought to have each other until your time comes,” she urged strongly, that blazing fire of stubbornness, unrelenting love and tenacity burning in her vivid sapphire eyes, the same eyes that had made him fall for her the first time, causing his breath to hitch. She didn’t have to say: “after the rest of us are gone” but he still saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice, making him bite his lip at the harsh realization of it.   

He had to take a few breaths to compose himself before answering. “T-this is truly what you want?” he asked in an uncannily shaky unlike-his-usual voice.

“Yes. I want my dear prince, my love and my longtime wild-haired battle-junkie best friend to be as happy as they deserve to be; now and for as long as they both shall live and on,” she answered sincerely, tears having begun to fall from her own eyes.    

“A-alright… I will. But I don’t love you any less Bulma…. You were the first one to-” Bulma stopped what would have been one of his rounds of self-depreciation by locking her lips with his own. After all that they had shared together, as much power as he had in a single finger, Vegeta still felt guilty and depressed over his past sometimes; not believing that he truly deserved to live as happy and freely as he did. She had never gotten him fully over it; him still waking up in cold sweat sometimes at night. She could only hope Goku would succeed where she had failed; holding her prince in her arms with all the love she could give.

The next week, Shen Long was summoned by an emotionally weary prince. For the first time in Vegeta’s life, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with immortality; going through with his wife’s wishes with a heavy heart.

Goku was there moments after the three wishes were granted and the Dragon Balls dispersed; peering at Vegeta questioningly.

Vegeta waited a few moments before speaking up; hoping Kakarotto would notice some things on his own.

Of course, Goku did not.

So, to get back at him, Vegeta began to fib; more than annoyed with the last full-blooded member of his people. “I wished for immortality, to be eternally stronger than you and for an indestructible spaceship so I can travel the universe in style and get far away from the lot of you weaklings for good.”

He much regretted his choice of words when he turned to look at Kakarotto. He had never seen his fellow Saiyajin appear so distraught and hurt that his form trembled and tears began to fall from his large trusting eyes. Vegeta’s chest tightened them almost unbelievably; it taking everything in his power to not cry too. Never again would he even joke about such things. For, the immaculate warrior, comrade and friend in front of him did not deserve such.

“Kakarotto, I am sorry. I was joking alright? What I really wished for was to be the same age as you physically and for the return of my tail,” he paused then to show off his newly grown royal appendage, though left out the third wish purposely; hoping Goku wouldn’t ask. It was a surprise for later.

Goku sniffed and rubbed at his eyes before answering. “I don’t like jokes like that Vegeta; they’re mean,” he remarked seriously, baring his sharp Saiyajin canines.

“Neither do I Kakarotto, neither do I.” And before Goku could ask another question, Vegeta had swiftly closed the gap between them; delicately sliding his tongue into the ardent bliss of Goku’s mouth, his arms and tail wrapping around him strongly. It was a sloppy impromptu kiss, but Vegeta decided it was probably one of the greatest he’d ever had.

When he finally pulled away for breath, he had to smirk as his eyes laid on a wide-eyed, thoroughly flushed Kakarotto with their mixed saliva still glistening on his lips; his fingers trembling as if he wanted grasp hold of Vegeta and never let him go, yet his eyes were full with uncertainty, worry, shame and confusion.

Vegeta let him know it was alright with his eyes then; speaking and beginning to fill him in on everything he had already talked about with Bulma and Chichi. There was no more confusion in his own heart. He would do all in his power to make sure all the people he loved would live well and happy for at least as long as he lived; however long that might be.

That day, he and Goku sparred for hours before making love under the stars for hours more; both reveling when Vegeta was able to turn Super Saiyajin 4 too after taking his Oozaru form, his training with Goku for years and absorbing enough bluits waves from New Wakkusei Vegeta (renamed from the previous New Wakkusei Tsufuru) making it possible.

After kissing Goku breathless while reminiscing on how they came to be, Vegeta gently pulled away; grasping his chin to make him look at him. “We told everyone we would be gone for years… We have only been out here for a few months. If you let us finish one full Earth year out here, then we can start heading back and you can have a father/son talk with Gohan to your heart’s content. Fair?”          

Vegeta almost choked when Goku gave him such a beautifully sincerely breathtaking smile. “That’s fair Vegeta.”    

“Better hurry up in here young bucks, before we start without you!” called two still-looking-darn-good-for-their-age women together from a special room within the ship. The women had fun playing sensual ‘cougars’ ruling, ‘training’ and lavishing their tailed ‘young beaus’ when in public with them or not. Both Goku and Vegeta smirked at that. “And bring more lube. We’re ready to go all night.”

Goku and Vegeta then blushed to their ears at hearing that. Ever since the four of them got together, their sex lives had been amazing~. But even greater than that, they were all much happier and more readily coming to peace with the fact that they would not all last the same amount of time on the temporal plane. However, it was still sometimes hard to grasp that their wives/mutual-mates were such sexual beings as well; though all four thoroughly enjoyed every moment together.


Tenshinhan watched his family and friends, still in slight disbelief but nevertheless happy—enthralled as he witnessed Chaozu, Pu-erh and Yamucha playing tag with his and Chaozu’s young daughter Nabe-chan and Yamucha’s and Pu-erh’s young son Tulsi. He never would have believed or been blessed with any of it if not for Chaozu. In certain things, he—now just as wonderful as she had been before becoming a she—seemed to have more courage than them both; able to amaze him to this day. For, Chaozu had been the one to peer into his eyes years ago—after the mad Tsufurujin mutant Baby had been defeated and the earth wished back into its rightful place in the universe—so profoundly his soul bristled; certainly never expecting what came out of his mouth next then…


“What is it Chaozu?”

“I want a child—a child made of you and me, that we can both love, guide and raise before our time is up here,” he conveyed with more conviction than he ever had in his life.

Chaozu had felt the unforgiving, partial hand of death quite enough in his life; having first come from a strict and dangerous family to beginning his training to be an assassin decades ago from an evil teacher, to later becoming a decent martial artist and friend to many he would have never before dreamed of. Though he was quite grateful and blessed for the way his life had turned out after such a wayward beginning—knowing it could have been so much worse if anything had happened differently—he yearned with all his being to be able to express his love fully to the one person in the universe he not only would die for but had, so seemingly many years ago. He had already lived with his most beloved as his devout best friend and comrade for most his life, but he longed to give him more… so much more, before there was no more time left to.      

Tenshinhan was quiet for a long moment before answering. He wasn’t sure if his dearest friend and lifelong comrade wasn’t pulling a fast on him. “Chaozu, you know that-”

“If I were to use the Dragon Balls to become a fertile woman, could you love me as one, Ten-san? Could we have a family together?” implored Chaozu with his whole heart, it taking all his past training to make sure he did not break in front of his beloved, hoping with everything that Tenshinhan wouldn’t hate or think less of him for wanting such.

He had loved him as a comrade since they were youths. But his love for him grew with each passing year they endured together as adults. He had yearned to say so earlier in their lives but hadn’t the courage then. Though after all that had happened before and because of the mutant Tsufurujin Baby, and feeling the gradual but sure pull that time had on his own body, beginning to see minute signs of aging in his beloved Ten; the feelings that had been growing in him for so long could no longer be kept silent.   

As realization that Chaozu wasn’t at all joking hit Tenshinhan—his own body beginning to shiver for reasons beyond the cold of climate they lived in as he witnessed Chaozu tremble in severe disquietude with his head down—all three of his eyes widened to near impossible proportions, seeming as if they would soon jump from his skull.    

But after a few deep breaths, Tenshinhan calmed himself; gingerly grasping, lifting and pulling Chaozu up into a warm embrace. “If it would bring you happiness, Chaozu, so too it would I…. If you are certain this is what you wish, we will search for and gather the Dragon Balls and call upon Shen Long together,” he answered sincerely, so much emotion shimmering in his eyes though he willed them to stay dry.

There was no one else in the universe he loved more, so there was practically nothing Tenshinhan wouldn’t do for him. Though, he was immensely relieved that Chaozu wanted to be the woman; for he wasn’t confident that he himself would have been strong enough to be. And though it was initially strange to think about, Tenshinhan felt them being together in such a way made sense; they had been together most their lives after all. And he had only been sexually, romantically attracted to one other person in his life. Though she was greatly attractive and quite interesting, once he found out half of Lunch would always be a less than laudable character; he had broken it off permanently, opting to train assiduously with his best friend and comrade for the rest of his life, which they had to that point. 

As he witnessed Chaozu smile then like he never had before, any doubt that it might not work left him. For once, Tenshinhan mirrored it as they gazed at each other long moments before warmly embracing once more.

Once Shen Long had been summoned, the rest of the Z Senshi showed up to see what was up. Some were surprised by their wish; others only wondered why they had waited so long. But Yamucha and Pu-erh seemed to fidget very visibly. It was then that Chaozu peered at both of them strongly; realization hitting him then like a ton of bricks. Special wishes were made that day and the rest is history.

And as Tenshinhan continued to humbly observe his wonderful life; his chest did swell when his lovely fair-skinned three-eyed daughter beckoned him to play with them all, so sweetly he could not stop his lips from grinning or his feet from lifting and moving towards them all if he tried.   


Gohan grunted and moaned lightly after falling painfully for the third time; making his sore, tender body feel the harsh permeating vibrations of each ‘landing’. Nope. Successful Bukujutsu just wasn’t possible with the state his body was in; his reserves still low as well—he needed much more to eat. As much as he yearned to go out and find Long, he would just have to wait until he returned. There were so many questions swarming in him after what had taken place between them. And he felt, even as exhausted as he was, he could not rest until they had properly conversed. So, he waited; his position awkward and surely uncomfortable, but he waited. There was too much he had to ask and say when Long returned, and he surely would.


A single tear fell from Long’s eyes as he woke with another dead body in his arms; no real relief coming to him that it wasn’t a person—it was still a life. Though, the more he fed, the less animals seemed to do. The hunger was always thick and painful; never letting up until at least partially sated… It was all too much! Though he yearned immensely for a real friend, a companion to talk to and share time with; perhaps it would be best to just take the tailed man Gohan to a people hospital. That had been too close! He had almost begun to feed from him! That must never happen. Somehow he knew if he ever brought harm to Gohan, he would never forgive himself, and would surely die that day.

Conflicting thoughts and emotions continued to roam through Long’s head as he begrudgingly wiped blood from his mouth; disgusted but unable to stop his tongue from flicking out and liking his fingers clean greedily, one last tear falling as he lifted a heavy furred body three times his size and carried it with ease. Just what was the right answer?! Should he continue to be?


Thanks for R&R. Until The Next…

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