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As Loyalty Can Be	By : Kimmy Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 6353 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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(5)

“No,” Bulma said slowly. “I don’t know where Vegeta is right now.”

Goku nodded. A part of him was almost relieved, like he was being given an opportunity to take to the easy way out. Not that he was planning on taking it.

“I was going to ask him if he wanted to spar today.” He wasn’t sure what had made him procrastinate for so long. Certainly, sparring with Vegeta seemed like something that he would very much enjoy. Vegeta was cunning and unpredictable, with a strength that approached his own. A fight with him was sure to be challenging. The thought of it, of pushing his limits, of going full out just to keep up... he could feel the edges of his mouth turn up in a tight smile.

His thoughts were interrupted when Bulma resolutely grabbed his sleeve, pulling him inside the house. “I’m glad you stopped by, Goku. You don’t visit nearly often enough.” Before he knew it, he was sitting in the kitchen, a large glass of orange juice in his hand.

“He’s been acting so unlike himself,” Bulma said, pouring a glass of her own. “He hasn’t really given me any reason to worry... but I do. Granted, I haven’t seen much of him lately, but I think there’s something he’s brooding on. He’s so secretive! I wonder what’s going on inside his head.”

“Perhaps he’s mad at you,” Goku fumbled. The situation made him uncomfortable. What was she expecting him to say, anyway? He found he didn’t like to discuss Vegeta like this, as if they were conspiring behind his back.

“He doesn’t act like it, though.” She drank deeply from her glass before putting it down, licking the juice from her lip. “I would understand it if he hated me, if he wanted nothing to do with me, but instead he’s... well, civil! There’s even been a few times when we’ve had these moments of mutual understanding, moments when I realize just how well he’s gotten to know me over the years. In fact...” She glanced at him, taking several seconds before finishing what she had to say. “I’ve been asking myself if I might have been... too rash. I thought him incapable of change, but lately... Oh, I don’t know!” She threw her hands up in the air.

“You regret breaking up with him?” Breaking up. He wasn’t sure he got it, really got it. How could you end the connection, the affection, between two people, with just a word?

“I- No. The reasons I had before are still very much true. But, Goku...!” She leaned forward, putting her hands on the table, getting really close, as she nearly whispered. “He’s not training anymore! At least not in the GR. He hasn’t used it since the garden party, and that was more than two weeks ago. Two weeks!”

“Perhaps he’s getting tired of the room,” Goku offered. “I know it’s good training, and I wouldn’t mind borrowing it sometime, but to be honest I rather prefer the outdoors.”

“Of course you do.” She smiled, in good spirits, suddenly. “Did you say that you wanted to spar with him? That sounds like a really good idea. If it works out.”

“It will.” Since Vegeta was the one who had suggested it, he didn’t really fear a rejection. “I’m sure of it.” But why then did he feel this apprehension? Like there were danger up ahead, like he had something to lose.

Something to lose… there was something inside him that he was almost frantically clinging on to. Goten, this new little son of his, made him mindful of it, so did the old cottage which he had brought Vegeta to visit.

He could feel it. Slipping through his fingers.

He had been spending the days, as Chichi said ‘making up for lost time’. Taking his sons fishing. Picnicking with Chichi on their old place by the lake. The days went by as he remembered that mild summer-days did. Life certainly was great. What was it then that made him feel this deep restlessness, this growing dissatisfaction even?

At least Chichi seemed happy; always fast to anger... but when things went the way she wanted she was perfectly content to lay back and savour the moment. She’d lean her head against his shoulder, smile and say something like ‘isn’t this perfect’ or ‘I should have brought the camera, so I would always remember this’.

“You know what,” he said to Bulma. “I’ll come visit you later, if that’s alright with you. Thanks for the juice.” He put two fingers to his forehead.

---

Vegeta took a few backward steps in order to get some distance from the bustling street. The withered stone arch above his head cast a cooling shadow and allowed him a vantage point from which he could study the chaotic scene in front of him.

Two hand-pulled wagons filled with green bananas collided, causing one of them to break apart, the contents spilling over the dusty ground. An old man sweating on a bike pulling a green carriage had to pause and step down to slowly maneuver his vehicle past the obstacle. The passenger, a large woman in a long embroidered tunic, shouted at the unfortunate banana dealer, who shouted right back.

Everywhere, it was a multitude of movement, smells and noises. A small girl ran by, dressed in a sky-blue uniform, books under her arm. Across the street a man had started frying omelets, handing them out wrapped in thin sheets of bread. Right next to him stood a rickety cart loaded with neon- coloured candy. “Sweets!” a turbaned man kept shouting, while ineffectually waving a fan to keep the swarm of black flies away.

He hadn’t really known that Earth possessed places like this. It was a far cry from the sparkling whiteness of Capsule Corporation or the smooth reaches of West City. This... this was the world outside. This was the glimpses of society that he had caught when he was leaving Frieza’s ship, sent on a mission. A myriad a people. Stationary. Living out their lives in their circle of family, friends and local authorities... so predictably attached to things familiar. Structures, stories, houses of prayer - habit making them special in their eyes.

“Mister, mister.” An insistent voice by his side. “Mister, a dress, a shirt, a shawl for your wife?”

A small up-nosed boy, no more than twelve, pointed at a few racks of clothes that lined the cracked walls, the stone arch serving as a makeshift stall. The young store-tender grinned widely, revealing his teeth, one that was plainly broken in half, leaving a jagged line in the otherwise even raw.

“We have jewellery too, mister,” the boy said. “Rings and necklaces for your wife.” He proceeded to open a small casket, holding up a string of yellow stones. “They’re real, not fake. Bite the stone, mister.”

Vegeta scanned the street again, trying to shut the boy’s shrill voce out of his head. He felt crowded, constrained, cramped, like he hadn’t been able to move his body for weeks.

In the past, he had made streets like this burn. Sometimes they would recognize him as one of Frieza’s soldiers... and sometimes it would be just like this. People going about their daily lives, hardly even noticing him. No challenge, no fear, just the simple act of burning.

He imagined doing it now. The heat. The street empty and silent, scourged by his powers. The thought of it... it made him feel tired. More, it made him feel utterly drained - a bone deep exhaustion that was so strong that there was no use denying it, no use cursing his weakness, if a weakness it was.

“Mister, bite the stone, mister!”

His own reactions fascinated him. Seven years in the shelter of Capsule Corp had not gone by without leaving some mark. He was sure of it.

The boy had stepped right up to him, grabbing his sleeve. Just to get a measure of his own response, he pictured the boy dead, pictured himself killing him. One crushing blow to the head, he wouldn’t even have to power up. A hole through his narrow chest, the wet sound of blood hitting the old pavement. Hell, a controlled explosion from within the frail body, pieces of bone and flesh all over his little stall. Boy on the wall, boy on the ground, boy covering the lines of brightly coloured dresses. The image made him smirk.

Still, at the same time, he knew that he wouldn’t do it. The boy stared back, face open and questioning, and he just knew that he wouldn’t do any of these things. Now, he thought, wasn’t that interesting?

Abruptly deciding to leave, he turned... and walked straight into someone, someone who hadn’t been there before.

“Ompf!” He looked up, already knowing who he would see. What he wasn’t ready for was the look in his eyes, so close up. Goku’s stare was direct and solemn, without a trace of the smiling, almost apologetic air that he always used to assume.

“What do you want?” he asked, straightening and backing away a step. He decided to ignore the embarrassing way that he had walked into the other man, it wasn’t really much to get upset about. Besides, that look in Kakarott’s eyes had worked to nullify him, for what he saw there was respect. He saw a silent regard, a reserved cordiality, in no way intrusive.

“I was wondering if you wanted to spar?” Still Goku didn’t smile, and Vegeta truly appreciated that. It told him that the other man didn’t take lightly on this, neither the question nor his answer.

A spar, training together. This, Vegeta realized, was the consequence of the baffling overture that he had made at Bulma’s party. Could he do it? Could he lay aside his old enmity for this man, not just coexisting, but starting again on something new? He supposed he could, at that, but he was himself surprised by the ease with which the answer came.

“Very well, Kakarott. A spar sounds good to me.”
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As Loyalty Can Be