Stupid Monkey | By : VegsMate Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female Views: 2429 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Chapter 2: Something of
a Diversion
I storm back into my room all the while muttering
obscenities. Once inside, I slam the door with more force than I intend. But
something has to feel my wrath.
That stupid monkey! He makes me so angry.
Asshole.
If there is one word that describes the arrogant Saiyan no
Ouji perfectly it is: asshole. He is such a mean, cold-hearted asshole! Asshole!
Ass. Hole. I cannot reiterate it enough!
I growl in frustration as I plop down on my bed. No one
gets under my skin so utterly like that bakayaro does.
I can’t believe that stupid monkey. Well actually I can;
it’s just that…who does he think he is?! I was just showing some concern for the
ingrate. Why can’t he just be polite for once and accept?
Wait a moment…
What am I thinking? This is Vegeta, a Saiyan not a human
like myself. Sometimes I forget who he is when he shows a bit of something other
than his Saiyan-ness. I don’t know . . . he confuses me so much. Every time I
think I got him figured out, he sends a barrage of mixed messages that
completely catches me off guard.
I lay down for a moment to calm myself, closing my eyes
and resting my hands behind my head.
The images of Vegeta appear in my mind: how he hugged
himself, the shaking of his head as if to deny whatever was bothering him, how
he flinched away from me, the unsteady voice he was attempting to conceal, the
haunted look in his eyes. I start to feel sorry for him again. He must have been
having a nightmare…to scream like that. Vegeta never screams, not like that, not
in distress. I wonder what could have been so horrible to make him so
discombobulated. I wonder if it has anything to do with his past.
I start to recall what it was Son-kun told me about
Vegeta’s death on Nameksei and how the prince had told him about his life under
Frieza. He had a difficult one. His planet and race had been eradicated from
existence when he was only a boy. Who wouldn’t be angry with everyone and
everything after that? And to live with the one who caused it for the latter
part of his life for so many years . . .
My mind starts to concoct suppositions of how that must
have been like. Frieza an evil tyrant raising a chibi Vegeta…I doubt he was
treated kindly, let alone loved. And that look in his eyes…he was hugging
himself, for goodness sake!
Then it occurs to me: when has Vegeta ever been
so…distraught?
Never.
He is the Saiyan no Ouji and any display of emotion other
than anger, hatred, amusement or cold disdain are considered weak by him. No
wonder he was so angry when I saw him like that. All of a sudden I don’t think
him so cold-hearted anymore. He’s only concealing what he thinks is weakness. I
should have known better than to think he’d want my concern—or what he’d
consider pity.
I sigh out loud, feeling guilty for being so harsh with
him, and more so for seeing him like that. He must have been mortified. I do
remember seeing him flush but I’m not sure if it was either from his nightmare
or from embarrassment. Perhaps both.
I wonder… has he fallen back to sleep by now? Would he be
able to?
All of a sudden the wind rushes by my balcony doors and
the curtains are caught in a fluttering frenzy. It looks like Vegeta no Ouji is
going out for night training. I don’t blame him. He must be so unhinged that the
only thing that could possibly reconcile him would be a few hours in the gravity
chamber. I know that when I’m like that, my lab is my only sanctuary. Well…I
hope he feels better by morning. As it is right now, I’m exhausted.
Morning comes abruptly, trying to wake me with its bright
rays of sunlight. I moan with annoyance and turn over, hiking my covers up even
more over my face and curling into a ball. I did not sleep well. With all my
aggravation and then pondering over Vegeta, I had not been able to fall into a
dreamless sleep or a pleasant dream filled one. No. My night was fitful and
burdensome. But even so, I have to admit before Vegeta had roused me, I was
already having difficulty trying to sleep. My recent troubles with Yamcha are
the cause of that. The prince just distracted me from those thoughts, but now
that I lay here I recollect it all.
Yes, Yamcha problems. It seems our relationship has been
going downhill lately. I love the guy, that is true but something is wrong.
We’ve been together for close to a decade now and our relationship doesn’t seem
to be going anywhere. I’ve had hopes that he would propose to me. It is my dream
to get married and have a family. More now than before this dream beacons me. I
cannot for the life of me be content in a relationship with a guy who only
concerns himself with partying around and having fun. Although I love to party
and go out to clubs, I don’t think that this is all a relationship is meant for.
I want to go deeper than that. I want something stable, something more
transcendental.
I roll over on my back and spread out my legs and arms.
I don’t know… Something is definitely lacking. When Yamcha
and I went on a date last night, it didn’t feel the same as it usually does. I
wanted to talk it over with him, whatever was the matter in our relationship,
but he attempted to act like there was nothing wrong. That of course infuriated
me and we argued. I was so heated then. I stormed into my home slamming the
door. Yep, much like how I left Vegeta’s room. But afterwards instead of
thinking so much on the problem, I cried. Much to my disgust, I cried like a
stupid child. And the sad thing was I don’t know why. I don’t know what is wrong
with Yamcha and me, why we’re so stagnant, but I know that something isn’t right
and I refuse to ignore it.
Looking up at the ceiling I groan and flip over onto my
stomach, pulling my pillow in closer to me.
I’m afraid, though. I’m afraid that Yamcha doesn’t really
love me. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t proposed to me. He’s the only man that
I’ve ever really been so close with. I’ve dated other guys when Yamcha and I
broke it off several times but I’m so uncertain of myself. Is there something
wrong with me? Is it something so utterly off about me that he doesn’t want to
spend the rest of his life with me? That we just keep playing these childish
games? But a thought nags at the back of my mind: can I find what I want in
Yamcha? Or is what he has to offer not enough? It’s painful to think about. Is
it me or him or us? I sigh dolefully.
Lying here, this exasperating feeling of restlessness and
tiredness besets me but my body will not shut down. Tossing and turning as I
attempt to get comfy is quickly getting me annoyed. Why can’t I fall asleep? I
sit up in bed and look to my nightstand. 6:15 A.M. Lovely, just
lovely. My alarm clock won’t go off until 7:30 and I can’t sleep. I might as
well get up now and start my day.
So I turn off my alarm clock and drag myself into the
bathroom that is adjoined to my room and look in the mirror.
“Wow, ain’t I a lovely sight,” I say to my reflection
sarcastically.
When I don’t sleep well, it shows. My hair is a mess and
my eyes look shot. I guess I will have a bath instead of a quick shower. I need
to relax myself anyway. I go over to the tub and turn the facet on, making sure
it is good and hot. Then I get out my magnolia bath salts and put them in. This
is going to be so refreshing. I should take my sweet time and not even go to
work today . . . or maybe just go in late. I’ll decide that when I’m done,
hopefully my mood will be better by then.
~~~*~~~***~~~*~~~
“Dammit!”
I fall to the floor, having been hit by my own ki blast. I
look up to see that the training bots are still deflecting the other one. It’s
only a matter of seconds before it will come my way. I get up as quickly as I
can even though my limbs ache terribly. I must continue training no matter what.
I will not persist with being weak anymore.
I float back up in the air preparing myself. I think I’ll
triple the odds. I send two more ki blasts in opposite directions at the bots.
The first one comes my way and I dodge. It is deflected by one of the bots.
Another ki blast comes towards me and I smack it away towards the first one.
They cancel each other out. I look awry for the last one, just in time to see it
on its way. I hold out my hand to stop it but it pushes me back. I try to muster
the strength to drive it back but I find that my energy is not coming willingly.
I’m exhausted. Realize that. I should have taken a break as soon as the sun came
up but I was too stubborn to do so. I still am. Ambivalence… that’s what I have,
toward myself, my training, everything. No time to think deeper on this now. I’m
almost touching the floor. I will not be knocked down again for the umpteenth
time this training session!
So I push back strenuously. Blood and sweat runs down my
overheated body. My eyes become irritated with the salty solutions. With a
growl, I conjure up what strength I have left and push back forcefully. The
blast knocks out three of the training bots. They shatter to the floor.
I hover a few inches above the mess I’ve made, smirking at
the small victory, and slowly land, my chest heaving with every strained breath
I take. I lean over rest my palms upon my knees.
Minutes seem to pass by and I finally breathe normally. I walk to
the control console and turn off the gravity. The eerie red glow pervading the
chamber shuts off and the standard white lighting envelops the room. I
particularly like the red lighting, it being the color of the Royal House of Vegeta, blood, and hence life.
My stomach growls demandingly. It has been doing so for a
while now, but sensing that I am more willing to listen to its plea, it goes all
out. I check the clock. 11:37 a.m. Yes, I think it
is about time I had something to eat. But first I search out the ki’s that
preside at Capsule Corp. The onna’s ki is nowhere around here. This is good.
After last night she is the last person I want to see.
I grab one of my towels a wipe myself down, making sure to
get rid of as much blood as possible—it isn’t a lot but considering these humans
they make a big deal about everything. Quickly after, I leave the gravity
chamber and am on my way to the main building. Once inside I encounter the
blonde onna.
“Hello, Vegeta-chan! How are you today?” she gushes
cheerfully. I hate that she has come acquainted with referring to me like that.
But I say nothing to insult her. I’ve been taught at an early age by my father
to always tolerate women. So I just grunt in acknowledgment as always. Truth be
told, I hardly know how to deal with her specifically. She is so odd a
creature, always cheerful, always ditzy. It’s so revolting.
“You didn’t come for breakfast this morning,” she says, “I
was worried about you, but you seem fine. Hungry?” I nod my head and move to the
table to sit.
The food is good. She cooks rather well—better than her
daughter. I dread the times when Dr. Briefs takes his mate on business trips or
vacations, leaving me here with Bulma. That onna’s cooking is so detestable, not
to mention she doesn’t make nearly as adequate portions. She is not talented at
all in this area. I can even cook better than her. But whatever, I’m just glad I
have someone to serve me.
Blonde onna begins to talk and talk and talk and talk and
I want to blast her and blast her and blast her and blast her into itty bitty
pieces and give Bulma her ashes in a bag. “Hehehe,” I chuckle lowly.
I need to go train again. My mind is going numb with her
incessant babble. But I’m not nearly finished eating yet. I plan to keep my
distance from the onna so I must eat as much as I can. I don’t want to hunger
later and have to come in when they are all eating.
I know it is silly to want to avoid the onna, but my pride
was hurt when she saw me. I dread the thought of her mocking me. She was angry
when she left and usually when I do something to anger her, she just has to make
me pay for it somehow. She cannot hurt me physically and I will never worry of
that. But I’ve grown to know that physically pain is miniscule to other forms of
pain. Yes, I dread that type of pain. I’ve had enough of it my whole life. I’m
not weak that I cannot withstand it but if I can avoid it, I will.
“Vegeta?”
I look up to see Dr. Briefs looking at me. Then it
registers that he was talking to me. When did he come into the kitchen? I’ve got
to stop spacing out like that.
“What?” I ask, annoyed at my lack of attentiveness.
“Ah yes, my boy, I was saying that I need to take samples
of your DNA.”
I look at him deadpan for a few seconds. Then it occurs to
me.
I completely forgot about that. Ever since I blew up the
gravity chamber a few months ago and had been bedridden a couple days after, the
onna decided that if I was going to train myself so hard I should at least have
access to better heeling methods. Well obviously, I thought. So she told me that
Kakkarrot had told her about the regen tank on Frieza’s ship and she wondered if
I knew anything about its make.
So I had been helping them with the schematics,
which by the way they were flabbergasted that I actually knew how the thing
works. She only expected me to give her the overall idea behind the construct.
The fact that I could actually know anything about technology astounded them
greatly. Stupid humans and their presumptions of the Saiya-jin being
unintelligent . . . Just because Kakkarot does my race shame, does not mean that
all Saiya-jin are the same.
Anyway, I was getting tired of such things because it cut
into my training time. So once I got wind of the scouter the onna still had of
Raditz, I was utterly grateful, not that I let them know that. I tinkered with
it for a while until I got it back in functioning order as a communications
device as well as the radar she had initially reprogrammed it for. Then I hooked
up a com link to one of Frieza’s off world databases. I had to hack into the
mainframe since it had a heavy firewall. But once I broke through, I downloaded
info on the construction of the tank and from there they took over.
Dr. Briefs said it should be done within the week after he
gets some of my DNA to synthesize the heeling solution. I had been wondering why
the construction was taking so long. They had informed that they were converting
it to capsulation. It’s amazing the type of technology they come up with. Their
capsules in itself are astounding. And against popular belief, I’ve always been
intrigued by technology.
“After I eat,” I say.
“Yes, of course,” he replies. “By the way… have you seen
Bulma?”
“No, I have not.”
“She went shopping, dear,” Mrs. Briefs says.
“What? Why hasn’t she gone to work?” the doctor asks
surprised.
“She said something about relationship problems and
wanting to take a break to clear her mind,” Mrs. Briefs informs, “and you know
how shopping helps her do that.” Then she giggles as though there is something
to be ecstatic about. I have an overwhelming urge to slap her. “Oh
but you know, I think her and Yamcha are having problems. They might break up
again.”
The doctor doesn’t seem too interested. I wonder why that
is. Perhaps he knows more about what is going on.
“Well if they do, you know Vegeta-chan, you would make her
a wonderful boyfriend.”
“What?” Has this woman completely lost it? “Don’t suggest
such a thing.”
She giggles. And I am confounded by this onna’s
disposition. Can anyone be so ditzy? She is just like Kakkarot, only with curves
and no fighting spirit. That reminds me, I ought to pay that baka a visit to
beat the shit out of him. I’ve been craving a sparring match for some time now.
As I continue eating, the doctor talks to his mate about
some trivial matters or perhaps important things but I care not one wit about
them. However, as I observe them, the black fur ball resting upon his shoulder
suddenly arrests my attention. I’ve seen the doctor with it so many times but I
haven’t the faintest clue as to what it is. He starts to pet it and it begins to
make weird noises. Then it opens its big eyes and stars at me, as it lefts its
tail, swaying it in the air.
I can’t help but think about my tail and how I miss it. I
had such a beautiful tail. It makes me so angry not knowing who was responsible
for cutting it off. (*) When I find out, I’m going to kill the sorry bastard.
The little creature makes a noise then jumps on the table
and walks my way. I keep watching its tail. I’m so jealous. I want my tail back.
It sniffs around my food looking for something it likes. Then Dr. Briefs picks
it up and pets it on the head. It makes some sort of noise I cannot place, like
a vibrating noise in its throat. Odd creature.
“What do you call it?” I ask.
“Its name is Kitty, rather his name actually.”
“And what type of creature is this Kitty?”
“A cat.” I have no idea what a ‘cat’ is. Perhaps I’ll look
it up some time.
Later on in the day, after I let the doctor extract my
blood, I went to take a much-needed hot shower. As I had mentioned before, my
limbs were aching terribly so after my shower, I felt much better. Now that
I’ve had a pleasant diversion, it’s about time that I got back to business. I
set the gravity to four hundred and proceed to do push ups first.
I’m still plagued by my thoughts and I don’t know if I
should give them free reign. My earlier training session helped a lot, to get my
mind to focus. But that dream still bothers me. I try not to think so much about
it. It only conjures up bad feelings, which I can do without. It just really
angers me that I was unable to get my revenge on Frieza. Perhaps that’s why I’m
so fucked up. Maybe then my dreams won’t afflict me as they do.
No, I don’t believe that’s the case. I cannot forget
memories. Let’s not consider this at the moment.
Before I had thought about my ambivalence towards
everything. Where was I going with that thought? Oh, yes I was exhausted and
needed to take a break but instead I opted to continue. My stubbornness. I tend
to do that a lot, more now of late. I know what is best for me but then my drive
to be the best dissuades my rationale. In every facet of my existence I am this
way. Desire versus principle, which of course diverges in to many other things.
Perhaps the only thing that I’m not torn on, which I wholeheartedly aspire for,
is to be the best and strongest warrior. Only when I’m training myself too hard,
do I actually diverge because its practicality versus obsession. Do I let my
body rest or do I continue my exertions, with the hope of breaking through my
limits as well as the dread of detrimentally going too far?
Bah! I ought not think of that. It is not as though time
isn’t wanting. Less than three years is all I have so I’ll have to push myself. But even
still I can’t do myself any good if I… well perhaps I can. Since the regen tank
is being constructed I ought to be destructive. Near death experiences always
does the Saiya-jin body good. My strength will increase tenfold.
Then it’s a
plan.
As soon as the regen tank is done I’ll constantly beat myself up. “Hehehe
. . .” I chuckle menacingly. Yes… and I’ll even let Kakkarot have a crack at me.
Soon I’ll be the one kicking his ass to asphalt.
~~~*~~~***~~~*~~~
(*)
Quick Note: It has come to my attention after I had written this chapter
that Vegeta did in fact find out who cut his tail off and gave Yajirobi the
thorough ass beating that he deserved. I have decided though to keep Vegeta not
knowing for sake of plot. How ever significant it is remains to be seen. ^_~
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