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Sacrifice	By : xerosky Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 8290 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z is the property of Akira Toriyama. No money is being made from this work of fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Sacrifice

By Xero Sky

Pairing: Goku/Kakkarot x Vejiita

Rating: NC-17

Warnings (for the entire fic): Slash, non- or dub- con, sex, violence, profanity, death, angst. AU, time travel.

Summary:   Rejecting your fate is a privilege of power. Sometimes, however, the price may be too high to pay.

For those curious about the language issues: This is how you know you’ve been in a fandom too long: you confuse canon with the fanon of your own stories. Whoops! Too late now, though. So, in this fic, the saiyajins speak their own native language. Goku was raised speaking the dominant language of Chikyuusei, which is close enough to the common language of Furiza’s empire for Vejiita to understand it without too much trouble. This is why Goku (Kakkarot) has to re-learn his native language in this fic. Vejiita does not speak enough of Furiza’s imperial language to communicate with him (since this time line’s Furiza was killed when Vejiita was seven years old).

Chapter Four

Kakkarot cupped the prince’s face between his hands, gazing intently into his eyes. For a moment, Vejiita felt the energy crackle between them, and there was… something…

Then the Legendary simply turned his back on the prince and walked away. He didn’t stomp away, didn’t run, and didn’t leave a path of smoldering destruction behind him; he just walking away casually, moving along a natural path through the trees.

Vejiita, keyed up and buzzing with energy, gaped at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, other than the worst, but he wasn’t entirely clear on what exactly the worst entailed. Rape of some kind, or maybe more than one kind, probably, but he wasn’t really that clear on that, either, to be honest. His imagination hadn’t been willing to stretch too far past Kakkarot’s arrival, mostly because that was the point where his control over the situation would end. Kakkarot just walking off and leaving him standing there was inconceivable. Left utterly off-balance, he could only watch as the man drew farther away.

“What are you doing?” he yelled after him when he got his voice back, torn between not wanting to attract his attention again and hating to be left in the dark.

Kakkarot didn’t answer.

“Fuck!” Vejiita swore as the man disappeared in the woods. What kind of game was this?

He looked around, trying to get his bearings. Where the hell was he? His lungs had burned at first, but saiyajins had a large tolerance for atmospheric variances and now that he’d adjusted, the air was perfectly breathable. The trees were kind of odd. The leaves were spindly, like spikes, and fallen leaves, gone brown with age, carpeted the forest floor, rustling gently under his boots. The scent was pungent. There were small insects in the air, but no other animals that he could detect. The most prominent sound was the wind in the trees. Looking up, he saw glimpses of blue sky. This wasn’t Vegetasei.

It didn’t matter, he supposed. He was here, and Kakkarot had just… turned his back and walked away.

The thought occurred that he could attempt to escape, but he dismissed it immediately. The Legendary could no doubt find him, using whatever special powers a Legendary no doubt had. Bastard.

Besides which, he had over a decade’s worth of grudge to work out, and he was constitutionally incapable of letting much smaller things than this go.

More than any of that, Vejiita was afraid, and he couldn’t tolerate his own fear. It gutted him, weakened him, and he would do anything to silence the small, terrified voice yammering somewhere in his mind. His pride had never allowed him to give into it, and there was no reason to start now.

Kakkarot had some questions to answer.

The prince of all saiyajins went after him.

***

“Breathe, you idiot,” Kakkarot muttered to himself as he walked down the slope, winding his way between tree trunks and deliberately not checking to see if he was being followed.

He just needed a little time and a little space to calm down and get his head together, that’s all. It was a big day. In fact, it probably rated right up there with the top five most important days of his entire life, although his life was generally so freaking weird that he didn’t keep track of such things. Still, this was important. He needed to get a hold of himself.

The fact that he hadn’t made any plans for what to do now, after he had the grown-up prince right there in front of him, had begun to seem like a huge mistake. If he was going to be rating things, this mistake also counted right up there, probably next to abandoning his family to stay dead, or abandoning everybody to go train Uub, who hadn’t even really wanted to be a fighter when he grew up.

But this wasn’t really the time for dwelling on past mistakes, was it?

He needed to concentrate on not fucking the future up.

I will always hate you.

Goddamned Vejiita. How did he always manage to find the right thing to say to hit his weak spots dead on? He hadn’t even realized how much he was counting on this to make everything wrong is his life right again, not consciously, until the hottest young saiyajin in the history of the universe, the one he’d given up so much to get to, had cracked his heart open wide without even knowing.

He wanted him so bad – even more now that he’d gotten sight of that eyeliner and those tattoos close up – that he was losing the fight before it even began. He needed to focus, and to calm himself down.

Finding a good place, he breathed the sweet air in slowly and pulled his attention inward, away from the prince, away from the planet itself. This was Chikyuusei, not far from where his house would stand, if this wasn’t a different timeline altogether. He rarely came here, but it was nice to have a place he knew he could find again from halfway across the galaxy. He’d deliberately made no attempt to look for any of his old friends; his life in this time had nothing at all to do with theirs, no matter how much he sometimes missed his past.

It wasn’t home anymore, but it was familiar, and he exhaled slowly, concentrating on that, and on the slow series of movements that seemed to naturally follow.

***

He found Kakkarot standing in the middle of a clearing, balanced on the toes of one foot with his hands held down and out to the sides. It was such an incongruously ridiculous pose that he was almost relieved when that one flowed easily into another, which, after being held for a moment, flowed into yet another. It was a method of moving meditation, he guessed, and not really all that unfamiliar. Kakkarot was handsome and graceful and a pleasure to watch, truth be told, and somehow that made things worse.

Of course he was perfect. How could anyone in their right mind turn away a potential mate like that? Vejiita could live a thousand years and never find someone who could match up – he was easily fit for a prince. If he’d had a choice… Dark hair and tanned skin, bright eyes and a fine tail, and, dear gods, his body was a work of art. Just looking at him, Vejiita could feel the attraction, the desire to challenge him and see what he had.

But no, fuck that noise. This wasn’t some fireside tale, with a handsome lover sweeping the lonely prince off his feet. He had no choice about being here, but he wasn’t going out without a fight.

Kakkarot owed him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Vejiita demanded as imperiously as possible. He crossed his arms and scowled for all he was worth. It was better that the Legendary cherish no illusions about whether the prince was willing or not.

Kakkarot just smiled, his eyes still closed, and leaned back into a backwards flip, ending his kata.   He took a breath, then let it go slowly, grounding himself before opening his eyes and taking in the sight of the prince, his prince, standing almost near enough to touch. And, oh, did he want to touch. It wasn’t time yet, though. He took another steadying breath.

Of all the things I’ve faced and fought, he thought, why is a teenaged Vejiita the most terrifying of them all?

“My name,” he said, beginning at the start of things, “is Kakkarot, son of Bardock and a mother unknown.” That was the standard way of saying that a mother had abandoned her baby before the birth was registered, something that hadn’t been uncommon among third class soldiers. He hadn’t the faintest clue who his real mother might have been, anyway.

“I know who you are,” Vejiita said, his voice nowhere near as cold and dispassionate as he wanted. “I also know what you want from me.”

He clenched his fists, mortified to hear himself say such things.

“Do you?” Kakkarot said. There was that look again, the vulnerable one Vejiita hated. It infuriated him. Kakkarot was getting everything he wanted. What the hell did he have to be unhappy about?

“One dead icejin freak for one saiyajin prince. Isn’t that how it went? You don’t have the balls to rule, but you wanted a royal trophy. At least you had enough honor to wait before trying to break me.”

“I would never try to break you!”

“Liar! Did you really think I would come willingly?” Alarm bells were going off in the distant parts of his mind, but he banished them; after all, how much longer would he be able to speak his own mind? Might as well make as much of it as he could.

“Yes! You’re supposed to be my soul mate!” Kakkarot yelled at him, his voice booming in the quiet clearing. So much for being patient and calm. If he needed any other proof that Vejiita made him insane, there it was.

As for Vejiita, the prince stared at him, taken aback. Somewhere inside him, something seemed to vibrate in sympathy, and he scowled, uncertain, before a profound disgust overtook him. “Is that what you tell yourself? Is that how you justify this, you perverted freak?!”

“Justify WHAT? Claiming my mate? I haven’t done a damned thing to you!”

“I’m not your mate! I don’t even know you!!”

They were face to face now, yelling at each other, and some little part of Kakkarot was perversely pleased by this, because this stance summarized 95% of their entire relationship: the prince thought he was a disgusting fool, and he thought Vejiita was being stubborn to the point of idiocy.   Same thing, different timeline.

“You are my mate, Vejiita! I’ve had more proof than I can even stand to remember!” he said, fighting to control his temper. He’d come a long way for this; too long to let the prince provoke him.

Said prince, however, was on a roll.

“Proof? Show me! Or is it some magical thing that you can only see when your hair turns blond?” Vejiita sneered.   His audacity made him feel light-headed and ferocious at the same time, and he grinned humorlessly at the other saiyajin, inviting disaster.

Kakkarot didn’t take him up on it. He looked distracted suddenly, like he’d been struck with a thought that had captured more of his attention than the prince had. Frowning, his eyes a bit unfocused, he was struggling to recall the exact words the first prince had said to him, trying to translate them into the saiyajin language so he could repeat them to this prince. The irony didn’t escape him.

“I can’t show you proof,” he said after a moment. “But we’re supposed to be together: two-as-one, two who are matched. I believe it, and…” His brows narrowed as he remembered something else the dying prince had said. “And you KNOW it, don’t you? You can feel it.”

He looked up at Vejiita slowly, measuring him.

“That’s – that’s ridiculous. I never – I would have known!” Vejiita snapped, but the edge was taken off by sudden, utterly inexplicable doubt, and he flushed with embarrassed anger when he saw that Kakkarot hadn’t missed it.

“I wasn’t here,” Kakkarot mused. “Not at first. Not until you were a boy, and then not again until a couple of years ago when I came back. Maybe it was harder for you to recognize…”

“I would have known from birth, you moron, no matter where you were! Everybody knows that!” Vejiita yelled, his voice seeming strangely loud now that Kakkarot had grown quieter. He heard the faint thread of panic in his voice and cursed himself and his weakness. “None of this bullshit means you have any right –“

But of course Kakkarot had the most basic of all rights, that of superior power, and Vejiita tried not to shudder as the Legendary’s appraising look swept over him again. “Yeah, that’s what Vejiita said. That he always knew, even though I couldn’t remember. You must have known too, didn’t you? At least over the last three years. You’ve been too busy hating me to recognize it, but you felt it, didn’t you?”

Vejiita felt his stomach sink as a memory came back to him: slapping down the council of clergy for wanting to institute a planet-wide festival for the Legendary’s birthday, because he knew, absolutely knew that Kakkarot would’ve laughed at it.   It was so obvious; how could they have not known?

Why had he known?

And that sort of shit had happened more than once over the last couple of years, hadn’t it? There’d been any number of times he’d interfered with the church, not just for pleasure, but because they were wrong. He’d just known things about Kakkarot that he had no reason whatsoever to know.

Goddamnit!

Kakkarot read the revelation in his eyes. “I wasn’t here when you were born, Vejiita. Not in your timeline. You wouldn’t have known anything until I first arrived, and then… not until I came back. I didn’t even exist here most of the time you were growing up,” Kakkarot said, as if the madness he was talking was the most natural thing in the world.

“That doesn’t make any sense at all!” the prince grated, wondering if the man was making fun of him.

Kakkarot ran a hand through his wild hair, sighing. “I know saiyajins don’t have time travel, but you understand it, right?”

Vejiita just stared at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you all of this at first.”

More staring, because he really hadn’t a clue what the hell to say.

Kakkarot started to say something, then stopped, then started again. He gave Vejiita an almost appealing look, trying to figure out what to say next, and for a brief moment, the prince felt like he had the upper hand.

And of course, Kakkarot had to spoil it all.

No one should be able to move that fast. Vejiita didn’t even have a chance to get into a defensive position.

Much later, when he had the leisure to reflect, he would decide that what bothered him the most about the events that followed was that none of his reflexes kicked in to save him. He had perfected his skills and honed his instincts; they’d never failed him before, unlike his strength. He should have been able to do something, at least, like leaping into the air to escape, or pulling enough ki together in a few seconds to hit him with it.

But none of that happened. He didn’t fight back at all when Kakkarot’s arms wrapped around him and pressed their bodies together, much less when their mouths met.

He didn’t have much experience with kissing. It wasn’t that he hadn’t done it before, although that was as far as his practical knowledge went in that area, but this closeness, this passionate intimacy was unknown territory. Kakkarot overwhelmed his senses: the hot mouth on his, the feeling of being held hard up against another person, the heat rolling off him, the power, the scent of… not lust, but maybe just need. He was the prince of all saiyajins, the heir to an empire, but no one had ever touched him with such focused desire: no one had ever wanted him with such singular intensity.

And he responded, clutching at him, pulling him closer, because the feeling of being utterly and completely safe with this man flooded through him. He was so certain of it that he almost resented it; he needed no protection from anyone…

That’s when the sharp mental invasion came, and despite all his hostile wariness, he wasn’t prepared for it. There was a sudden, sickening flood of images: life, death, fighting, grief, sunshine, a green planet, aliens, tragedy, Furiza alive, Furiza dead, relentless females, love, a saiyajin child, and himself, older and twisted with rage, golden fury, recognition, terrible longing, blue eyes, and Death. The prince died, tears running down his face, utterly broken, and then again, and again, and again, dying in Kakkarot’s arms now, futility, and everything spiraling out to nothing, a cycle of grief and hope that left him breathless and dizzy, as if the world had shifted out from beneath him again.

Vejiita struck out blindly, trying to stop it, to dam the flood before he lost himself in it. There was a shock of flesh and earth as he freed himself, knowing that he was falling and not caring as long as he was clear and it all stopped.

There was silence, deafening and huge.

Slowly, Vejiita recognized the sound of his heart thudding in his chest, and the rasp of harsh breath. For a moment, he thought he might be sick, and then he was sick, retching as the world tilted and spun. He hated being so vulnerable. As his vision cleared, he found himself kneeling on the ground and pushed immediately up to his feet again, grimacing at how unsteady he was.

Kakkarot was also on the ground, about thirty feet away now, just now sitting up. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbed at his eyes, and brushed the hair out of his face. He smiled ruefully at the prince. “Are you okay?”

Vejiita glared at him, having no actual clue what the answer might be. Finally, he decided on a question, instead. “What the fuck was that?!”

“My life story. I hope. The teachers who taught me that didn’t really have a lot of faith in me,” Kakkarot said, getting slowly to his feet and feeling for a tender spot on his torso. “How do you feel?”

How did he feel? Was that it? The bonding he’d feared for so long? Had Kakkarot… He could feel the new knowledge in his mind, a large, disparate lump of otherness. Even as his mind probed at it, like a tongue probing at a sore tooth, he could feel it fraying around the edges a bit, not dissolved, but fragmenting. What had it done? What was it doing to him? He felt a lot of things just at the moment, some of them confusing. He did not, however, feel starstruck, enraptured, in love, or otherwise in thrall, and that had to be good.

“I still hate you,” he said, trying it out. Nothing extraordinary happened – no pain or guilt or horror at what he’d said -- but he was concerned that his heart might not really be in it.

“What else is new?” Kakkarot said, looking relieved.

Aware that there was a joke in there that he wasn’t getting, Vejiita clenched his fists and flashed his fangs in warning. The anger made his head hurt, and for a moment he thought he’d throw up, but when that ebbed he was still angry, and that made him feel better. Anger was his zero state; he was comfortable there. If he could be angry at Kakkarot, then the mind rape or whatever the hell it was must not have happened.

Finding his tail inexplicably loose, he wrapped it around his waist with an audible snap.

“Do you understand me any better now?” Kakkarot asked, stepping closer.

“What did you do?” the prince ground out.

“We weren’t getting anywhere. I’m not that great with words, so I wanted to show you who I am and why I’m here, and that you can hear me…”

Because he shouldn’t have been able to make any connection with the prince if he wasn’t forcing it, unless a link between them already existed. Kakkarot didn’t even have to say it.

The prince, however, refused to extrapolate anything, refused to draw any conclusions. Instead, he flexed his fingers and concentrated on not trying to cave the Legendary Ascended Saiyajin’s skull in.   Kakkarot just stood there and waited for him to work it out, which somehow made it worse.

Either Vejiita had been violated and fundamentally changed by force, or Kakkarot had simply shoved a huge mass of information at him through a bond that already existed between them. If the bond already existed, then… maybe Kakkarot wasn’t lying. And maybe he didn’t intend to force a claim. He’d received considerably more training in these things than Kakkarot, and he knew that only some of the new knowledge he’d gotten would be retained, but for now, he didn’t think the man really meant him much, if any, harm. Kakkarot certainly believed everything he’d pushed at him. That might give the prince some time to figure things out. A few questions immediately suggested themselves.

“Why do you remember me dying so many times?” he asked accusingly, crossing his arms.

“Because in those timelines I could never save him,” Kakkarot said simply. He’d stopped moving and just stood there, empty hands hanging at his sides. “But I could save you, and even though you aren’t him, you’re still Vejiita, prince of all saiyajins, and I can feel you, up here.”

He tapped a finger against his temple.

Vejiita glowered, uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure he had any more questions if the answers were all going to be like that.

Still, the itch to know was there, and there was no time like the present. Especially since he had an urge to try and pick apart the things Kakkarot was so damned sure about.

“If you’re so sure you were meant to be… mated,” he said, using the word with distaste, “why did he hate you so much? There were only two saiyajins and some mongrels in that purging party, and yet he couldn’t stand to be near you.”

Kakkarot blinked at him for a second, and then scowled, his eyes narrowing. “Those ‘mongrels’ were our children, Vejiita, and every one of them ascended. Don’t talk shit about people you’ll never know. And he hated me for a lot of reasons, like the fact that I ascended first, but mostly because I’d hit my head as a baby and didn’t recognize him. I didn’t even know what saiyajins were until I was already full-grown.”

“You hit your head? That explains a lot,” the prince said with a sneer. He was too unsettled to really sell it, though, and it felt fake, and brittle.

“Yeah, like a lot of purgers got hurt. And you’ll have to work harder than that if you want to insult me.”

Vejiita almost started to say something else, something more cutting, but a sudden thought hit him, derailing his venom almost entirely. “Wait, our children?” His tail hair started to lift, bristling.

“I know, you’re not a childbearer, and neither am I. Their mothers were local women –“

“I would never –“

“She was beautiful and a flat-out genius, and she loved him. Their son ascended before he was eight years old.”

Vejiita laughed, the sound almost giddy. “Oh, yes, everybody in your world ascended! Gods everywhere! Birds and snakes and zak’at, all golden all the time! It must have been Heaven! Or Hell.”

Kakkarot’s hand had grasped his wrist faster than he could see, and he was jerked forward, face to face. “Yeah, all of us ascended, and him,” the elder said, obviously trying not to growl. “And you will too. I can already see it burning inside you. I’ll teach you.”

“Right! You’ll teach me to be a god in exchange for bending over for you—“ and he stopped, physically struck by a memory. Not his memory, but Kakkarot’s memory… of him. It was the clearest image yet, but confused with the conflict between what Kakkarot remembered and what the young prince now saw.

So much rage. This Vejiita was older, and had seen so much more, and so much of that had been so horrible – he could read it in the lines and scars. Dark lines around his eyes (what festival was this?) and a mark he couldn’t read on his forehead (MAJIN). And so angry, at Kakkarot, at the universe, and the life that he could never make good enough to make up for the tragedy that shaped him. (HOW COULD I HAVE LEFT HIM ALONE FOR SO LONG?)

“Spend all your life in service to another, and tell me anything matters more than your own strength!” (In service!? How?)

“Fight me!!”(Fight!)

And then murder, of thousands, because Kakkarot wanted to fight him so bad, but wouldn’t, because there was something else, some reason (MAJIN) and this, finally, was enough (blood sacrifice); the older prince laughed, but the younger knew it wasn’t triumph. It was relief. ( And despair.)

(WHY DIDN’T I SEE IT? WHY WAS IT NEVER ENOUGH?)

And finally the young prince, Vejiita, held captive by the man who swore they were soulmates, saw what he should have seen all along: the first Vejiita had been golden, ascended, with eyes as cold and green as the sea.

Kakkarot caught him as he sagged, and Vejiita tried weakly to shrug him off as he struggled not to throw up. He wasn’t going to do that again, not here, not in front of him, like he was some child who’d pushed himself too hard. The world kept moving without his permission, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing everything to stop.

They stood like that for some time as the prince steadied himself, aware that Kakkarot still had a grip on his arm and that it somehow felt comforting, even though it shouldn’t.

“What did you see?” Kakkarot asked him softly. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have shoved it at you all at once like that.”

Vejiita was dizzy still, but he pushed through it and straightened. He stepped back, trying for some space to collect himself, but Kakkarot moved with him, and did not let his arm go. The two of them stared at each other for some length of time before Vejiita conceded that he was at the very least really damned tired, and suddenly sat down, forcing the Legendary to either let go or come down with him. Kakkarot settled in comfortably next to him, his grip lessening from tight to firm.

It was bizarre how mundane it seemed suddenly, sitting there in the grass together, hearing nothing but the wind in the trees and the sound of the prince’s breathing returning to normal. Just another day.

“Tell me what you saw,” Kakkarot prompted again.

Deepening his voice in imitation of that other, older prince, Vejiita said “’Spend your life in service to another and tell me anything matters more than your own strength.’”

Kakkarot winced, his eyes scrolling shut. “Yeah. You would pick that one.”

“How did he, uh…” the prince started, gesturing vaguely as if embarrassed.

“Turn Majin?”

“What? No.” Vejiita scowled. “How did he ascend?”

It was almost funny how hard it was to say that word when talking about himself, however vaguely. He’d thought he’d gotten past such idiotic fears as blasphemy a very long time ago.

“It was in his blood, it was his rightful inheritance when everything else was stolen from him, and he took it back almost at the cost of his own life,” Kakkarot said, with surprisingly solemnity.

Vejiita glanced at him, but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He didn’t know the man hardly at all, but he didn’t think that kind of serious, almost somber tone was common for him. What terrible thing had happened in that other past?

“How?” he asked.

“I don’t know exactly. I wasn’t there. I heard…” Kakkarot paused, smiling a little in recollection. “I think I pissed him off so bad by ascending first that he went off by himself and nearly got killed trying. The idea of dying without beating me made him go crazy enough.”

“Is that what it takes, being pissed off at you?”

“It probably doesn’t hurt.” This time the smile was a little bigger.

“No wonder everybody in your time was ascended,” Vejiita snorted.

Kakkarot chuckled, and let go of his arm.

They sat together in weirdly companionable silence for a bit.

“Why wouldn’t you fight him?” An important question, among saiyajins.

“It was complicated,” Kakkarot said, hoping not to have to go into the whole thing. A look from Vejiita informed him otherwise. “There was this guy who could siphon away the power we put out during a fight – not just saiyajins, but who else was stronger? He was gonna use it to resurrect a monster that made Furiza look weak as a kitten, so we were trying not to help him out until we could find him first.”

After a moment’s processing time, the prince had another question. “Then why was he so determined to fight you right then and there?”

Somewhat relieved that he wasn’t going to have to go into the whole story about the angry pink man who ate the world, Kakkarot rubbed at the scar on the back of his head and said “Well, I guess it was because I’d been gone for so long. I was dead for 7 or 8 years that time, I think, and he was never the most patient man to begin with. He must have been tired of waiting.”

The prince stared at him, with that blank expression that made him wonder if he’d suddenly lapsed back into the language he grew up with. That still happened sometimes, when he was tired or just off his game. Fortunately, most people were more than happy to tell him right away when he slipped up, often with added commentary about his parentage or mental capacity.

Vejiita’s expression didn’t clear, though, and didn’t change into irritation the way he expected.   Instead, the prince suddenly looked as tired as Kakkarot had ever seen any version of him look, and his youth was striking. The older man wondered what the first Vejiita would have looked like that age, with a dozen years in Furiza’s service and the death of his people behind him. It gave him a surge of prideful affection to know that he’d saved this prince from that. Whatever lay ahead of this Vejiita, it wasn’t the disasters that had wrecked the first prince’s life. Kakkarot would do whatever it took to keep him from that.

“You were dead 7 or 8 years,” Vejiita said, turning away from him to look off into the distance. It seemed like a question, so Kakkarot answered it.

“Yes.”

“That time.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve died more than once.”

“Yes.”

“And he wasn’t surprised by this?”

“Well, we’d both died at least once by then, so, no, he probably wasn’t surprised.”

Vejiita sighed and then scrubbed a hand across his face. Dark eyes, made even darker by the lines painted around them, searched his own. “I don’t know exactly what you want from me, but you owe me this much. I can’t make much sense of all this… noise you pushed into my head, so you need to start over and tell me everything, from the beginning.”

Kakkarot stood up. “Fair enough,” he said. “Hey, are you hungry? Let’s go hunt up something to eat, and I’ll tell you more than you ever wanted to know about me.”

Vejiita rolled his eyes. “Eat? I don’t even know where we are – and that’s something else you need to explain,” the prince said, levering himself gracefully to his feet.

“Uhm, yeah. Right after we eat. Do you like fish? There’s a lake not far from here.”

“Whatever,” Vejiita said, crossing his arms across his chest and scowling.

Kakkarot just smiled, feeling truly hopeful for the first time in years, and leaped up into the clear blue skies.

~TBC~
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Sacrifice