For The Love Of The Fight

For the Love of the Fight

=*= I in no way own these characters. I do not wish to use my stories for money, however if you care to donate to the poor college girl fund I will not stop you hehe. (J/K) If you wish to sue me over my stories you are unfortunately wasting your time. The only thing I can afford is the free first consult with a lawyer.=*=


He glared at Kakorot, the idiot of his race. The only other full blooded Saiyan was the most moronic creature hd evd ever encountered. His race, the race of skilled fighters and killers, was just made a joke of by one man. One insect in the evolutionary chain of his people. Killing him was not good enough. He had to destroy him, burn his flesh from his frame and melt his bones. Laugh as this man before him was incinerated and marvel in the glories of his ultimate perfection. The perfection of an ultra elite, a prince

The warm summer air kissed the bruised and bloody bronzed skin, sending waves of pain into his nerves and down his spine. Sweat dripped from his brow and the salty water stung his large chocolate orbs. His chest heaved as he gasped for the air that refused to enter his lungs. His limbs felt heavy, made of stone, but he stood his ground.

His white golden toed boots were smeared with dirt and blood. His once immaculate white body armor and blue spandex attire was torn, cracked, and gray with debris. He lifted his arm to wipe away a trickle of blood with his shredded white gloved hand and his lips twitched into a smile. This was his home, in battle. This is where he was alive and free.

He could feel his power fluctuate and falter, raise and diminish. He was so close, so close to the one thing he wanted the most. Super Saiyan, his destiny was just out of reach, but he would have it. He would make his late father proud if it was the last thing he ever did. He would destroy this third class idiot and claim the power that was rightfully his.

His body filled with rage. An insatiable rage. A rage that ate at him, slowly killed him. Tearing mercilessly at his insides, clawing its way to the surface of his perfectly toned body. Kakorot the baby sent from his planet, the most powerful man in the universe just looked at him. Looked at him with neither hate nor respect. He simply just looked at him. Just smirked, a smirk that belonged to the prince. A smirk that was reserved for only true Saiyans, not this joke of a man.

The prince growled and charged, only to be batted away like a fly. A stupid little bug, not even worthy of the name it was given. A bug so weak that it vomits every time it lands. The same bug that the prince, the all mighty prince of the Saiyans resembled at this moment soaring backwards.

A cloud of dust encompassed his body as he landed on his back and slid a few feet before hitting his head against a half crumbled mountain. He stood on shaky legs, stones and pebbles tumbled down his body from his flame shaped hair. Blood flowed freely from his nose. His perfect nose, now a damaged bloody mess on his face.

He did not dare wipe his face. The pain was already close to unbearable. His body shook. Blood dripped from his fingers leaving dark circles in the dirt covered ground. He spat a mouthful of blood as the younger Saiyan walked over.

His body towered over the broken prince. The sweet earthen smell, mixed with sweat, covered the musky cinnamon of Vegeta. His unruly ebony spikes were tangled and matted, sticking up more so than usual. His face lit up with a smile as he tossed the fallen prince a small brown burlap sack.

“Good round today ‘Geta. Eat up.”

The prince’s face twisted in anger at the sound of the nickname he was given. The insult to his people insisted they were friends, averred they were comrades attlattle. He claimed they could live side by side, work hand in hand, live a happy life in the company of one and other. And yet the mere presents of this man made him sick. The thought of his strong, firm, sweat covered, powerful body clad in only his baggie orange GI pants mad his stomach flip.

“I can’t believe how close you are. Soon you will be my equal.”

“I will never be your equal! You are a third class baka moron. I am your Prince, the Almighty Prince of the Saiyans, equal to none!” He growled, popping a bean into his mouth and slammed the bag into the ground.

“Geta what’s wrong today?”

“You. You make me sick.” He spat again, walking away, brushing past the older man. “Go home to your wife and cub. Tomorrow you will die.”

“Alright ‘Geta, so we are on for tomorrow? This is going to be so much fun.” Vegeta turned around and smashed Goku against the crumbling rock wall. His hand tightened around Goku’s thick neck.

“I do not play. This is not Fun. I am Vegeta, Your Prince. Someone you should respect, fear, long for. Not someone to hang out with, I am not your friend. You are my training device.” Vegeta dropped Goku and he fell on his hind end.

A small groan left Goku’s lips as he stood. His large eyes glistened with unshed tears. He looked at Vegeta and sighed. His head hung low as his still untreated wounds trickled crimson down his milky skin. “I’m sorry I just wanted to, ya know, make you feel welcomed here.”

“Hn.” Was the only sound that came from the prince, a grunt bordering a growl. He turned to leave. His back to the younger Saiyan, his arms crossed over his chest. His toes kicked up gentle clouds of dust as he walked tds tds the surrounding forest.

“Where have you been staying Vegeta?” The prince made a slight gesture with his head in the direction of the woods.

“Uhh, Chichi and Gohan went to her father’s for the week, so I have an extra room Vegeta.”

“I do not except handouts from third class Saiyans.”

“It’s not a hand out. Vegeta.” Goku jogged to catch up with the irate prince. “It’s an offering, from a third class Saiyan to his prince?” Goku’s voice rose in octaves as he finished the statement that sounded more like a question.

Vegeta stopped and cocked an eyebrow at the younger man. His thoughts swam in confusion. He juggled the idea of staying in the woods again, in the cave he acquired after a short battle with a bear, or in the small house built, owned, and lived in by a third class. He man before him seemed so hopeful, so desperate for the prince to accompany him.

“Vegeta, I don’t like to be alone. It’s for a whole week. I have never been alone that long. I wouldn’t know what to do. Vegeta I am asking you to stay with me.”

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg. Get on your knees and Beg.”

“WHAT? You expect me to get on my...”

“See you tomorrow Kakorot.” Vegeta started to walk back to his make shift home. If it weren’t for the scuffle of cloth and dirt he would have never turned back around.

Goku was on his knees, head bowed, hands clasped together. “Please Vegeta, don’t let me be alone.”

The prince was shocked speechless. His body refused to move, a response was inconceivable. The most powerful man in the known universe was beggfor for him, on his knees requesting his presents. The most powerful man in the known universe was afraid to be alone.


=*= Ok this is my first attempt at a Dragon Ball Z story. Please tell me if it sucks, or if it is decent. I like feed back, actually I lovel bal back, be it good, bad or indifferent. I hope I captured a little of the personalities and I know when Vegeta was training to be a SS he stayed at Bulma’s, but for the story she never wanted him there. This will be explained later maybe. I have yet to decide. Thank you for reading, Misa The Great. =*=