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Wishes of the Fallen	By : SaiyanGirl Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4331 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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 List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Title: Wishes of the Fallen

Author: SaiyanGirl (SaiyanGirl@Gmail.com)

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Goku/Vegeta, Vegeta/Goku, implied Goku/Chichi, implied Gohan/Videl, others are a surprise! ^_~

Warning: Language, Violence, a tiny bit OOC, Death, Angst, Yaoi, Graphic Lemon

Disclaimer: All copyrighted characters appearing in this story were created by Akira Toriyama, and appear without expressed permission. Any original characters appearing are the intellectual property of the author, SaiyanGirl.

Special Thanks: A HUGE Thank You goes to Katiefoolery for beta'ing this fic. She is absolutely amazing! Without her, this story would never have been worthy of posting!

Soundtrack for Chapter Eight:

     OOMPH! - Sex hat keine Macht (Wahrheit oder Pflicht, 2004)

     Radiohead - Black Star (The Bends, 1995) [Currently unavailable on iTunes]

     30 Seconds to Mars - The Battle of One (A Beautiful Lie, 2005)

All soundtrack selections are available on iTunes.

Please Note: For all Soundtrack Disclaimer information, please see The Prologue

Chapter Eight - Destruction

     Cooling streams of water rained down upon darkened skin as the Prince of all Saiyans stood silently in its chilling path, the temperature soothing his heated muscles. Soaked hair slicked over thick shoulders as he stared in disbelief at the memory of his own actions, failing to notice the freezing rain falling upon him - the aches of his body crying in a lasting echo of the ferocity of his release. Body still, focus caught - fires of rage scorched his mind, trying to erase the memory of his vanished pride. He'd lost all self control and become nothing more than a rutting animal conducted by pure Saiyan instinct.
     "Grrrrrrrrrrnnnn... Fuck!"
     His tail violently lashed as he spat the word into the water pooling at his feet. A random bottle shot from its grasp, flying across the shower floor and splitting open as it cracked off the far wall. His empty gaze hardened into an angered glare as he looked down upon himself, staring at the flaccid penis lazily hanging between his legs, mocking him. He could still see his traitorous blood pumping through the darkened skin, the veins throbbing in blissful afterglow. The sight only intensified his glare as each passing throb shot between his aching legs, the pleasuring sensation doing nothing more than igniting his face with anger, his left fist tightly clenching at his side.
     The ceramic nearly shattered under his physical strength as he slammed his open palm against the wet tiles before him. How could he be so stupid? Letting his body rip control away from his mind and unleashing his primal side to run wild? Where the fuck was his pride and self respect?
     "I'm no godsdamned animal - I am the Prince of all Saiyans!" His shout bounced off the slick walls, confined within his sanctuary as the water drowned the resounding echoes. He was the Prince of all Saiyans; he was expected to be above his subjects not just in power, but in self-discipline and control! And here he was, throwing that control away in favor of succumbing to his body's wanton urges. How the hell would anyone respect him if they knew he couldn't resist the slightest temptation from his own kind?
     How the hell could he resist...
     "Uggrrhhhhhh... Tropic setting." The hiss was like fire from his lungs, his anger stoking the inferno boiling within him. The fire raging within matched the sudden heat upon his skin, the rain intensifying into a concentrated stream above him, pouring down his hard body as he stomped over to the shelf containing his personal effects. He glared over the various bottles, snorting as he spotted the one he'd thrown across the shower, its orange liquid seeping in a thick trail towards one of the drains in the floor.
     "Fucking Kakarott," he growled, the orange of the liquid instantly reminding him of the reason he was so pissed off to begin with. This was all his godsdamned fault. If that moron hadn't have interrupted him from his early training, he wouldn't be in this shit. In two hours, he'd managed to screw up his entire morning and fuck with his mind - all the while acting as fucked in the head as he could remember.
     Vegeta scoffed as the voice angrily smashed off the walls of his skull, the thought almost making him laugh.
     'It's not like it's hard for him in the first place.'
     Momentarily released from wishing doom upon the universe, he reached for a crescent shaped bottle, pouring clear gel into his hands as he stepped from the shower's torrent, snorting as he raised his arms to work it into his wild hair. The smell of the shampoo filled his mind with exotic images of his taller rival, instantly reminding him of Kakarott's normal earthy scent.
     'Normal... feh.'
     What the hell was normal, anyway? Kakarott had lived on this godsforsaken rock since he was an infant.

     'Tch, adopting this planet's scent as his own could just be a ploy...'

     What the hell was he thinking? A Saiyan couldn't just change their scent whenever they wanted to. You were born with it! Your surroundings had absolutely nothing to do with it - it was in your blood!
     The torrential downpour pounded his skull as Vegeta stood under the heated flow, closing his eyes as shampoo washed over his face, the scent insulting his senses. The image of Kakarott and his sweaty body hadn't left his imagination - his closed eyes only brought the figment into greater focus.
     Nothing made any sense - where the hell could that scent have come from? The third class had become a Super Saiyan, had even ascended beyond that elite power, and his scent had never changed - not one fucking bit. But that morning, his power had pulsed through the forest like it was nothing, and his scent had been replaced with that of a Saiyan god!
     How the fuck was that possible?
     His mind continued to roll through question after question as the last of the suds washed down his spine, winding around his tail and traversing the tight passage between his toned cheeks. Why hadn't he noticed it on his clothes before he entered his house? Such a powerful and intoxicating scent - how could he miss it? Or did he miss it at all? The damn thing seemed to appear and disappear without warning!
     His fingers ceased their entanglement as he heard the woman's voice melt through his mind. Could that have been what she was talking about? Was she smelling him!?
     Feeling the last of the shampoo course between his ass, Vegeta let his sight roll over the multitude of bottles at his disposal, his right hand picking up a half-filled star-shaped bottle. He scowled as he stared at the ridiculous ball of white threads hanging against the wall, grabbing it with his left. When the useless woman at the store had stopped blushing enough to make a sound, she'd said it would work better than cloth - considering it looked like it was designed for a woman's delicate skin, he'd had doubts it would be of any use to the battle hardened body of a Saiyan warrior.
     'Humans...'
     As he poured blue gel over the threads, he found his mind wandering over anything the color could have reminded him of, centering on the dark blue of Kakarott's belt. His hands choked the threads in his grasp, his tail placing the bottle back as his mind drifted further away, mentally shifting from the belt to the hot skin heaving above it. Kakarott's sweating body might as well have been on fire - his skin had felt so warm against his own, almost as if he was training under the twin suns of their home - his home.

     Extending his left arm before him, Vegeta grunted as he practically slammed the ball of foam to his chest, roughly scrubbing the heated skin of his pectorals as it coated his thick muscles in sweet smelling suds. He could feel his anger returning once more as the force of his hand brought memories of that sweaty body back into his mind, its giant muscles bulging and flexing with intoxicating strength.
     'His attacks were fucking merciless!'
     His hand dragged the threads over his broad chest, grunting slightly from the rough friction with his dark nipples. He quickly moved to his stomach, his attention locked on his tanned abs as they disappeared under the frost of the body wash, mindlessly comparing them to the lighter skin of the younger Saiyan.

     'When the hell did he learn to move like that?'
     His rival's body stubbornly refused to leave his mind as he moved over his hips. The threads dipped into the deep crevices his thick thighs made with his torso, the delicate touch of the fabric making him grunt in approval as he ran it over his smooth sac, coating his balls and cock in the cleansing liquid. The foam soon found its way between his legs, washing away the sweat from his nether regions, lightly caressing between his ass before rising up to paint the base of his tail.
     "Mmnhh..."
     His mind drifted into blissful paradise as he took his tail in his free hand, gently cleansing the soft fur with the body wash. The touch of the fine threads made his head swim - such a delicate, wondrous little thing. Designed for females, perhaps - it still had uses he could exploit. Too bad they were nothing compared to the real thing - to a real touch, a real body, huge and perfectly sculpted... All too quickly, his tail was an odd-looking mess of blues, whites and brown as suds and bubbles mixed within the furrowed appendage.
     Reluctantly releasing his tail from his grasp, he crouched to wash his calves, running the foaming threads down to his heated feet. As his hands worked, his tail instinctively dropped between his legs, covering that which was exposed. He almost grunted in amusement - he didn't give a shit about what he looked like bent over with his ass in the air - he had a fucking wicked ass. Toned, tight, perfect. No way in hell could anyone resist - the woman hadn't stood a chance, let alone Kakar�
     "Grrrrnnnhhh..." The idea of Kakarott staring at him with his ass on display was the last thing he thought he'd ever picture. More images, more thoughts, more close-ups of those massive, sweaty muscles, shining as they flexed, reeking of that heavenly lustful scent...
     ...Wait.
     'Why the hell wasn't he wearing his retarded orange getup?'
     He hadn't been able to see the bigger Saiyan's legs - they had been covered in a pair of grayish-blue pants Vegeta'd never seen before. Bah - his legs weren't the major cause of concern - Kakarott's scent had been hiding somewhere around his neck. Right under his nose - how disgustingly ironic.
     '...how fucking disgusting to see something so Saiyan from such an insult.'
     He scowled and bit back another growl, rising as he pressed the soapy ball against his collarbone, nearly grinding the threads into the base of his neck. As the foam moved over his left shoulder, Vegeta raised his arm above his head, extending it in order to wash underneath.
     'All that movement... how the hell wasn't he tired?'
     His nose was rewarded with a sudden blast of his own thick scent, heady and musky from its source. Flaring his nose at the assault, he pressed the foam against his sweaty armpit, crushing the threads against his skin as he scrubbed himself clean. Bronze gave way to the frosty colored suds as he slid the threads up and down his arm, covering every square inch of his skin in sweet liquid.
     'It was...'
     "...glorious."
     The penetration of his own voice forced his motions to a crashing halt. He blinked, resuming his movements as he pushed the confession from his memory. 'Kakarott' and 'glory' should never appear in the same sentence. Ever.
     Releasing the ball from his right, he traded with his left as he raised a thick arm, his senses reeling as his powerful scent attacked once more.
     ... Powerful?
     Vegeta narrowed his eyes. Dropping his head, he sniffed under his right arm, flinching in surprise as the scent soaked into his chest. It was stronger. His scent was suddenly much more potent than it had been - not changed in any form, but definitely more powerful.

     Godsdamnit, now what? "What the fuck is going on?" One hug from Kakarott and suddenly he was smelling as beastly as Nappa?
     He wanted to hit something, break something, hurt something - all he had at his disposal was the soapy ball of thread, the rope around it swaying lazily from his hand, mocking him. One twitch of his anger sent it flying against the wall before him, an explosion of suds splattering all over the reflective surface. It didn't help - just left him raging, staring at the point of impact - staring back at himself, staring at his own futility, his tensed body heaving and flexing in anger, the sharp points of his armour gleaming in the bright light...
     "Huh...?" He stared into the reflection, watching as the color drained from his face. Staring back at him was his own soap covered body, his forearms clad in the overwhelming presence of polished jet-black armour.
     The chrome tips beyond his elbows shone brightly in his eyes, the reflecting water intensifying their polished gleam. Thick, black material enclosed his forearms like armbands, elongated and contoured to the curves, ridges and bulges of his body as if they were designed for him, and him alone. The reflection was almost daunting it was so bright, as if intending to blind all those who looked upon it, frozen in shock by the display. Never had he seen, nor could he remember, such elegance and beauty in a created object. It stirred overwhelming feelings of passion, of pride within his very soul. He didn't want to move; didn't want to take his eyes off the stunning reflection before him - but a part of him was screaming to shift his gaze, to look upon his arms, to find the answers he so desperately sought.
      He couldn't hold back - needed to see... Ripping his sight from the reflection on the wall, he stared adamantly at his arms, his eyes meeting nothing more than skin and suds. His gaze instantly shot back to the wall - the white reflection of the chrome tips was nowhere to be found. On the blind chance, he lifted his right arm and sniffed himself once more. Nothing. Nothing but his thick, normal scent.
     He wanted to swear, he wanted to scream - he wanted to bash his head against the wall until he bled. The searing pain would have been a welcome distraction compared to the torment his frustration had wrought upon him. All he could do was growl. The burning heat built within his chest rumbled through his lungs as it poured into the steamy air through gritted teeth. Screaming would have been a more satisfying alternative, but he could've done without his ears ringing for the rest of the week.
     Anger pounded his feet into slick tiles, growls pouring from bared fangs as he stomped under the soothing heat, the water coursing along the deep ridges of flexed muscles. The water falling upon his skull did little to silence the boisterous voice in his head, relentless in its incessant pounding. He was seeing things, smelling things - fuck, he was losing his godsdamned mind!

     "How in the fuck am I supposed to figure this shit out if my mind is just as fucked up as his?"
     The shimmering suds pooled at his feet as he raised his arms, allowing the water to reach normally hidden areas. His thick Saiyan signature was gone - masked by the subtle nuance of Human invention. He'd never understood Humans and their obsession with smelling like plants or flowers or morning waterfalls.
     'Feh - too fucking embarrassed.'
     Too embarrassed by their own repulsive scents. Weak and virtually useless, the race hid its multitude of imperfections behind invention and technology. Saiy-jia had long evolved over time; allowing technology into their lives but forbidding it from interfering with their true nature. A Saiyan's musk was as important to them as their power. Humans spent most of their time trying to hide theirs...
     Pathetic.

     A term synonymous with Earth - how ironic they came up with it on their own. Pathetic he was stuck here, pathetic he had no real home. Pathetic he couldn't find anything suitable for cleaning blood and dirt off his skin that wasn't some repulsive fragrance - just another godsdamned compromise he allowed in his life.
     "Urrgghh...."
     His whole life had been a godsdamned compromise since he first laid eyes on the younger full-blood. Fuck, all he had to do was stomp on his neck, and that would have been it - but his pride had demanded the satisfaction of Kakarott's suffering.
     Victory for pride. By the end of the battle, he had deserved neither and lost both - the first compromise. The first of many.
     A deep sigh escaped his chest as Vegeta stepped out from under the soothing heat, the last of the soap trickling over his feet. With a simple bark of, "Off," the water immediately ceased, leaving the subtle drips and trickles to mix with the sounds of Saiyan feet splashing against the tiled floor. Gazing around his private sanctuary, another groan passed through his lips as he spotted the cracked tiles in the wall, followed by the broken bottle on the floor. He picked up the ball of threads and hung it back upon its hook, padding over to grasp the broken bottle of orange liquid in his other hand while lamenting the damage his broken mind had shared with his surroundings. Turning towards the door, his eyes scanned the streaming water along the floor as he walked, making sure every last bit of his Saiyan spunk had been washed away.
     Steam clashed with cooler air of the doors slid open, fighting for dominance as he emerged from the contained environment. The water beading upon Vegeta's naked body instantly froze as his heat was attacked, his skin instantly cold as ice. He didn't even notice. The sudden cold felt no different than being in the presence of the cock-sucking Icejinn - he'd learned decades ago not to give it a second of his time. It, like the cold, wasn't worth shit.
     Water pooled at his feet as he reached for a towel from the nearby wall, roughly drying his warm muscles before throwing the cloth over his hair. He used to use his ki to instantly dry himself, but he found subtle pleasures in using a large cloth or skin - the delicate touch running along his hardened body almost made him feel like he was back ho�

     _____VEGETA!!_____

     The scream rang throughout his head, instantly deafening his eardrums. His sight flashed solid red as this body froze, the towel sliding from his grip. A massive ki spike smashed through him like a vicious kick to the gut, leaving his eyes wide and his mouth agape. The voice was deep, cold... powerful.
     He'd felt such power only once before.
     "Kakarott!"

     "Alright, Meoh, if we have an equation where 'x' equals twelve, and we have a square with a numerator to work with, what sort of equation are we dealing with here?"
     "Uhh... it's a polynomial... right?"
     "Close... anyone else? Can anyone tell me what sort of equation we have here?"
     A pencil lazily tapped against blank paper as it rolled between teenaged Saiyan fingers, his ears blurring the voices trading around the room. Heavy eyes stared upon a blank page as his body rustled uncomfortably in a softened wood prison. Having long outgrown the wooden chairs his school had to offer, his Saiyan physique was left to put up with daily torture. Slouching against his chair was an option, but his legs would quickly meet the heels of the kid sitting in front of him - their desks were mashed together as close as they possibly could be. To the teenager awkwardly sitting in a chair four sizes too small for him, feeling trapped was an understatement.
     "Draike, how about you?"
     Goten continued to stare at the blank lines before him, his gaze blending them together as his mind wandered through the open window to his right. The day was taunting him - it was beautiful outside. Heat danced along his neck as the low breeze paraded into the classroom, the cloudless sky being too much to even glance at. It was hard enough trying to focus on something which meant absolutely nothing to him, but the beautiful gift from Dende wasn't helping one bit.
     "I dunno, Mr. 'McD'. It just looks like a linear equation to me."
     ''McD'... you fuckin' dipshit, Draike.'
     Another wrong answer. Goten could hear the lie through Draike's voice - he had absolutely no idea what the hell a quadratic equation looked like. The douchebag just didn't want to look stupid in front of all the girls sitting around him.
     "Uh, no, it's not a linear equation. See this square here?" The portly teacher pointed at the exponent on the blackboard, tapping the chalk with his finger to accentuate his point. "This means it's not a linear equation. Remember, it makes..."
     Albert McDuggan, a man of few qualities and far too many bacon double cheeseburgers. Tall as he was round, his balding head and square glasses provided a better backdrop for a bad expendable cast member of a poorly created science fiction TV show rather than a high school math teacher. His appearance was as pathetic as his poorly shaped moustache, the hundred year old grey of his sweater vest matching the hundred year old grey of his comb-over. Mr. 'McD' was a pompous, conceited, godsdamned know-it-all. Goten snorted to himself as the thought ran through his wandering mind: he was about as useful as a flaming bag of dog shit - good for a quick laugh, but a fat, useless pile of shit nonetheless.
     "Care to join us, Mr. Son?"
     'Ugh... I have a name, you know...' Goten gradually raised his head, refusing to focus on the expression on his math teacher's face. He took one look at figures drawn on the board and quickly rolled his eyes.

     "Well?"
     "It's a quadratic," he stated bluntly. "It's a 'U-shaped' function with two roots, one of which is useless." '...just like you, fatty.'
     "Very good, Mr. Son! I'm glad your brain decided to join us this morning." A few chuckles sporadically appeared around the room - Goten couldn't have cared less. Not since the first day of eleventh year had he heard his first name spoken during math class - it was just another nuance which separated him from his classmates. His size, his heritage, his race; the teacher just added that extra layer of division. It didn't piss him off so much - if anything, it just made him feel that much more alone.
     "Okay, since you're on a roll, why don't you try the next question, hrm?" The walking doughnut began to rotate, turning to write another sequence of letters and numbers on the board behind him. "Perhaps you could let us know what this is?"
     Us. It was always us, never me, never I, always us. He was the only one who had to address the entire room, never just the teacher. Like he wasn't part of the class - an outsider who just happened to come along and sit in the smallest chair he could possibly find. Someone to whom they all could compare themselves.
     The one person who didn't fit.
     "That's the discriminant, isn't it?" Even his voice sounded distant - what the hell was the point of this shit, anyway? He couldn't be bothered focusing on anything beyond the beauty outside the window, let alone an equation entirely useless outside the oak walls surrounding him.
     "Yes, it is," the mobile center of gravity uttered flatly, his eighty year-old glasses hiding any change in his expression. "Lucky day, huh?"
     "I guess so..." Yeah, lucky - if you considered seeing your mother stark naked first thing in the morning as lucky. If he were truly lucky, he would forget that image as fast as he'd seen it.
     "Alright, Mr. Son. Since you are so well versed in the art of quadratics, perhaps you could share the entire formula with us?" The fat man just stood there, those rat eyes peering right at him with through four inches of foggy glass. The arrogance in his voice forced Goten to suddenly focus enough to stare back at him, the words of his father running through his head. The sack of crap standing before the class regarded him with nothing but disdain, camouflaged by the gentle nature required by the job description. How the hell could his father compare him to the likes of Prince Vegeta? "Well?"
     'If it will shut you up...' "'X' equals negative 'b,' plus or minus the square root of 'b' squared minus four 'a' 'c', all over two 'a.'" His gaze hardened as he finished describing the equation, glaring triumphantly at his math teacher.
     "Excellent, Mr. Son. That is correct." The tone of his voice failed to change, his expression remaining flat. Not another word was spoken - McDuggan just rotated on his spot and began writing the formula on the board. Goten was certain he'd tried to humiliate him once again, but he'd thrown it back at him. Turning without so much as a word was the dead give-away. He couldn't help but feel highly satisfied at his triumph, silently wishing his mentor was there to see it. He'd proven the fat bastard wrong.
     Again.
     "Have a good look, everyone," McDuggan warned, his voice reflecting off the board as he continued to face the wall before them. "This is going to be your new best friend for the next few weeks." The entire class groaned in unison. "Alright, settle down. No need for the complaints here."
     "Yeah, right..." The sudden rotation of the self-contained gravitational force standing before the class told Goten he'd failed to keep the thought in his head.
     "Again with the attitude, Mr. Son?" The rat eyes were back at it, peering at him through the clouds, almost as if he were attempting to intimidate the understudy of a Saiyan Prince. Good fucking luck.
     He shrugged. "I guess so."
     A few of the students turned their heads, multiple pairs of eyes setting upon the hulking teenager. He could tell what would happen next: the token reply of a 'disappointed' sigh followed by him dramatically pinching the bridge of his nose.
     'Wait for it...'
     He smirked as the sound of a prolonged sigh graced his ears. "Must we do this again, Mr. Son?" McDuggan paused to glance at the floor, lifting his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Hasn't my class watched you embarrass yourself enough this year?"
     "Excuse me?" Goten's eyes flared, his casual nature quickly being stowed away by his Saiyan-infused teenage defiance. It wasn't alone - he could feel it: the rage slowly igniting within him, sparked by his growing hatred for the fat fuck that dared to stand in his presence. "I answer all your questions with correct answers, and I'm embarras--"
     "We can do without the outbursts here, Mr. Son." The portly man managed to rotate once more, turning his broad backside to Goten's gaze, the bright red of the back of his fat neck enveloping the teen's sight. Cutting him off was a bad idea - turning his back to the disciple of the Prince of all Saiyans... That demanded reprisal.
     Yes...
     No way in hell was this sack of crap getting away with such disrespect.
     "Answer my question."
     The fat man failed to show any reaction as his rat claws began scribbling illegibly on the blackboard. "I don't need to, Mr. Son. I am he--"
     "The hell you don't."
     The scribbles stopped. McDuggan placed the chalk upon the sill in a slow, exaggerated motion before exerting himself to rotate once more. Rodent eyes again peered through the sandblasts of ancient glass as he gazed upon the teen, his stern look doing nothing to intimidate Goten's defiance. "Alright, Mr. Son. That is enough."
     "I have a name, you know."
     "Why yes, you do. Am I pronouncing it incorrectly?"
     'Oh, fuck you, asshole...' Goten'd had it. His pride and honor demanded satisfaction. He wasn't just some stupid kid this fat bastard could belittle so easily - he was the understudy of the Saiyan Royal Family! His father couldn't possibly have understood - this man was no teacher of his. His teachers were the Prince of all Saiyans, and his father: the strongest warrior of the planet. No one else was worthy.
     This guy was one step short of a trip to the nearest emergency room.
     "My name is Goten, asswipe!"
     "Okay, that's it. Gather your things and head down to the office."
     His rage began to boil. "Make me." 'Gimme one reason... just one fuckin' reason, you fat son of a bitch...'
     "We have no need for the theatrics, Mr. Son. Go to the office."
     "Fucking useless sack of shit..." he uttered, awkwardly standing in order to get the hell out of the chair designed for a twelve year old. Oh, he was going to enjoy this... such a pathetic example of all that was weak within him - breaking this fat bastard would bring him one step closer...
     "I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. Son. I can assure you that you are one of th--"

     _____VEGETA!!!_____

     Goten froze. The classroom vanished in a flash of blinding frost as a massive wave of ki punched through his stomach. He was dizzy, eyes wide in shock, his body stiff to the point of pain.
     "Holy shit..." His hearing was fuzzy, infected by a malaise of confusion and fear. Never had he felt such overwhelming power in his life - it made that pink alien seem like an insect in comparison. But it was nothing - nothing compared to the relentless pain and unabridged sorrow which struck his very soul, instantly making him want to vomit.
     "What's that, Mr. Son? Finally seeing reason are you?" Goten could barely make out the words over the buzzing in his mind. He ignored his teacher, turning his head to glare at the purple-haired student in the back of the room. Surely he'd felt it too? How the hell could he not? Goten furrowed his brow, shifting his head towards the door ever so slightly, so only Trunks could notice. Trunks only mirrored his confused glare, oblivious to the girls who were now staring at him.
     "Trunks!" The girl sitting next to him nudged his shoulder, whispering loudly enough for the whole class to hear. "What's up?"
     "Huh? Oh, nothin', babe." The cold knife of betrayal twisted once more. Goten could only watch, his stomach lurching as Trunks abandoned him. Again. The enslaving allure of Human teenage girls was obviously more important than his friendship with his best friend...
     'Asshole...'
     Trunks didn't even care. His supposed friend couldn't be bothered to do more than just stare at him blankly and shrug.
     "Well, Mr. Son? Are you going or aren't you?"
     "Huh?" Goten turned around to face Mr. McDuggan, his rat eyes continuing to peer beyond the pathetically painted moustache. His gaze only infuriated Goten further - the teacher, the class, and now his best friend: they'd all abandoned him. He was alone, faced with whatever the hell was coming from beyond the mountains.
     These Humans had no fucking idea what was going on.
     "Lick my balls, fat-ass."
     The door splintered into thousands of matchsticks as a Saiyan fist forced it open, his rage singing out through the groans of ancient iron. Goten casually walked through the frame and entered the hallway, instantly blasting down the corridor the second he was certain no one from his class could see. He knew what look McFatty had on his face - he couldn't have cared less. His math teacher wasn't even on his list of things to care about at that point - the fat-ass wasn't worth his own weight in shit.
     The second Goten felt the warmth of the sun grace his skin, his hair flashed a golden blonde, his true self free to emerge. Forcing the ground from his presence, his body shot into the sky, screaming towards the distant mountain range.

     Deafening waves of sonic explosion trailed along heels of white boots as sparks of blue and gold roared across the sky. Thick, golden hair whipped mercilessly against the dark navy fabric of the Saiyan Prince's training clothes, the stretched top battering against his heated skin. His enlarged body was as rigid as his tensed muscles would allow, the power of the second ascension giving him all the speed he could force from himself.
     He'd destroyed half the lawn in front of his house in his haste as his body had thickened, straining his loose fabric as the power of a Second Degree Super Saiyan coursed through his veins. The woman would have something to say about it, but he didn't give a shit. The life of some plant was nothing compared to the life of the planet - no way in hell was he going to let Kakarott destroy it before he could.
     Or so he lied to himself.
     Streaking across the sky, his eyes were fixed on the distant mountain range surrounding the younger Saiyan's house, his mind as chaotic as the air forced from his path. The ki beating in his heart was overwhelmed by the sheer ki pounding from the green peaks before him, wave after ominous wave of immense power crashing through his skin as he charged towards its source. It felt just as it had in the forest: massive shockwaves flowing through his very being - only now, the sheer intensity of the waves had exponentially increased, the force causing his bones to vibrate as each one crashed through him.
     Through the chaos swirling around him, the unexpected invader made its presence known. Lurching forward from the base of his spine, cold and forbidden, it dared to make itself comfortable. It swelled through him - painful, forceful and intoxicating - burning his skin, freezing his blood. He'd only felt such fear once before, and it'd left him paralyzed, frozen and cowering like a pathetic disgrace as he watched one of his own kind tear through six people without so much as breaking a sweat. So huge - a ki so much greater than his own... to submit to it, control it, wield it, own it, ravage it. Such fear only powered his overwhelming lust.
     He stopped dead in his tracks as he soared over the final mountain, a gasp stuck in his throat.
     "What in the... fuck?" The words slowly rolled off his tongue, his befuddled mind straining to process anything as he stared at the scene below him. He could see Kakarott's house, the sunlight gleaming from the reflective CapsuleCorp. siding. The house stood normally as it always had...
     There was nothing normal about the scene below.
     The frozen tears of a hundred thousand crystalline shards gleamed painfully up at him, every window of the home shattered. Potted plants had been smashed, their fragments scattered all over the splitting wood of the back deck. The stone tiles in the ground had all but disintegrated, their subtle designs lost to the spider webs of cracks which spread within them. The visible damage left him somewhat concerned, but it was nothing compared to what had stopped him dead.
     Beams of overwhelming white blasted through every opening along the house's external walls, stabbing the daylight surrounding the home. The light radiated with the power of a thousand suns, easily illuminating the surrounding area as it extended into the forest, the glowing radius forcing the light far into the sky. The summer sky was instantly overpowered, the day's brightness dimmed in awe of the light surging from the devastated building. Waves of ki continued to intensify as he approached the house, his body refusing to remain still as the vibrations continued to rumble through his very core. They pulsated in perfect rhythm with the light - they pulsated in perfect rhythm with his heart. His heart pounded, the light pulsed, the blaring white becoming brighter with every passing rumble through his soul.
     Intensifying his ki, Vegeta rapidly descended into the blinding light, his emerald eyes nearly shut as a gloved hand vainly attempted to clear a path for his eager sight. Forced to rely on instinct alone, he missed the distance to the ground, his heels smashing into the torn earth. Stone crumbled under his boots as the force of the overwhelming ki smacked him square in the face, instantly forcing him backward. Thick vibration rattled throughout his body as a deep and throaty grunt pounded from his chest. He'd nearly lost his balance - how the hell was such force possible? Screw asking questions - any force confronting him would quickly learn its place below the Prince of all Saiy-jia.
     The ground mercilessly shook under his feet, tiles continuing to split and shatter all around him. Power crashed through him, remorseless and relentless, filling his ears with a deafening rush of wild, black noise. His thick arms were instantly bracing him against the raging torrent, his body acting without permission as his eyes shut tightly - five hundred times the planet's natural gravity was an insult to this.
     "Godsdamnit... Kakarott!!" His cry was lost to the winds, turned to a child's whisper by the deafening noise whipping around him. How the fuck could this be possible - he, the Prince of all Saiyans, the most powerful Saiyan in the universe, left paralyzed in the onslaught of pure, immaculate power?
     No.
     Nothing was stronger than Royal Saiyan blood. Nothing. Not the motherfucking Icejin; not the robots; not the pink fairy - like fuck he was going to let some third class of an inferior line keep him at bay. Blinded, deaf and disoriented, a heavy grunt punched through the shockwaves as he forced a defiant leg forward, his boot crushing the stone tablet imbedded in the grass.
     His back arched as he stood as upright as possible, flexing his chest and flaring the bulging pectorals of a Second Degree Super Saiyan. Nothing was stronger than Saiyan might. Wild adrenaline rushed through him as his quadriceps bulged to massive size, his body defiantly forcing another boot forward - brute strength answering the challenge to his pride. Abs of stone ripped under flared pecs as he forced the ki to know what it was up against - the heavily muscled body of a fearless warrior. Another step, another grunt, another step, another grunt; every step harder, every movement an exhibit of Royal perfection. He grit his teeth as he poured more and more ki into his steps, his body rippling, muscles straining, bulging, forcing the stretched fabric of his training suit to give way to the incredible punishment.
     Nothing would stop him - not death, not destruction, not anything. Whatever nightmare was waiting for him inside that house, he would face it as a true Saiyan warrior - the last of the Royal bloodline, the first of pure Saiyan perfection.
     With each painfully defiant step, he pushed through chaos, assaulted by the wails of whipping air and black noise, feeling his way through instinct alone. The sudden sound of splintering wood pierced through the deafening noise - his foot had smashed against something soft. Straining to move, he felt something sharp press against his ankle, the point digging against the wall of his boot. He couldn't tell what it was - he had to look. Forcing an arm against the relentless forces slashing at his exposed skin, he braced for the blinding impact as he cracked his left eye open.
     White was everywhere. He couldn't see a thing - nothing escaped the brutal white-out which engulfed his vision - nothing but the torn blues of his training uniform.
     "Huhhh!?"
     He could see. He could see his torn clothes. He could see the skin of his rippling, straining left quadricep. He could see where his heavy boot had crashed through the wooden step to Kakarott's back porch.
     Looking up had instantly proven an idea for the insane - thoughts of his own sanity flashed through his mind as his sight was back on his feet, forced down by the blinding onslaught. It was getting desperate - he could tell. It wanted him to feel lost, feel the loss of battle overcome his soul... The hell? A ki with sentience? What the hell was he thinking? The thought of his mind losing its coherence only made him angrier. He gritted his teeth, pouring his straining might into his legs, feeling every muscle bulge to tremendous size in pure, defiant strength as he pulled his foot to the splintered wood of the deck.
     He drudged, he dragged, he fought with every ounce of strength in his body as the waves of ki reached a breaking point, shredding the useless fabric which clung hopelessly to his bulging chest. The blasting force pounded into his exposed skin, flooding through rippling sweaty muscle, penetrating his very core - it was trying with all its might to push him back, keep him out, keep him away...
     But it wasn't enough - nothing could have been enough.
     Tiles shattered as his right foot pounded against the kitchen floor, a thick, powerful grunt pouring from his exhausted lungs. He could see much further here than outside, his improved vision presenting him with a sight that left him frozen in his tracks once again. He was staring directly into the eyes of utter destruction.
     The entire kitchen was destroyed. Only the walls and countertops remained - everything else was in pieces strewn all over the floor. Glass, wood, tile, clay; pictures, furniture, plates and pots - fragments of a shattered life destroyed beyond recognition.
     A mangled chair, a large table in splinters, fragments of plates and utensils - everything crunched under the heavy pounding of his torn boots. The chaos was a welcome distraction from the intense beating upon his skin, his focus blindly sharpened as he took numb steps through the ruins of a devastated kitchen.
     "Kakarott!!"
     A picture frame lay shattered upon the floor, a strand of pure golden blonde curled over the broken glass. He barely noticed it, his mind nowhere to be found as he crushed his way around the island in the centre of the kitchen.
     Everything was silent. He couldn't feel, couldn't breathe, couldn't hear his heart beat through his chest. There was nothing. Nothing behind him, nothing around him.
     Nothing except towering spikes, blinding in all their glorious horror.
     Long, golden hair draped over the floor. The massive frame, hunched on its knees. A smaller body, hidden from view - a delicate pair of legs being all that he could see.
     "Kakarott?"
     The figure of despair did not stir.
     Neither did Vegeta. He was frozen in place, his body chained to the ground by his own shock. Such power. Such power remaining deathly still. Torrents of golden strands were perfectly motionless, gleaming in a glorious blaze of color and power. The other Saiyan was frozen, just as Vegeta was - not moving, not breathing, not living.
     He wanted to move closer, get closer - he wanted to touch, to reach out and bring life to that which was lifeless. His body knew better, having enslaved itself to absolute instinct.

     To bring life to one was to bring death to all.
     White was all he could see as he shifted his stare lower, the innocence of milky skin partially hidden by a vibrant purple filling his eyes. In an instant, he knew who it was - who had taken refuge in the cradle of ungodly golden power. The slender feminine legs were those of Kakarott's harpy - the mother of Goten - the wife of Kakarott.
     "Chichi..."
     Her name had never taken form within his throat until that very moment, sliding itself into the still air, unwelcome as it was forced.
     Thunder. A resounding crash of hellacious noise - deafening - and he was no longer standing, thrown into confusion. Wood splintered, pain spearing across his back - a crater forced into the wall blocking his path before he hit the ground with a heavy thud. Straining his thick muscles to force himself to his feet, he mercilessly spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor as his face sunk into an angered scowl.
     The disturbing calm was gone - blown to pieces by the massive amounts of ki pressing against Vegeta's chest with overwhelming brute force. Blonde and gold whipped erratically as the ground surrounding the larger Saiyan and his wife began to shine, growing until the oppressive white consumed all other color.

     He could see their faces.
     Shock was all he knew as he stood motionless, forced against the wall by the god-like power pouring out of the motionless body before him. Kakarott's face was frozen in a horrifying malaise of excruciating pain and twisted anger, his eyes lidded as he gazed down upon the female cradled in his arms. His brow was arched sharper than Vegeta could ever remember, almost to the point of crushing his eyes - had he had eyebrows, Vegeta was sure they would've formed a mark of terrifying anger upon Kakarott's face.
     He could feel the wall behind him cracking, surrendering to the massive waves of power that kept him motionless. The sound of wood snapping mixed with his own deep grunt as he forced himself forward, his thick muscles bulging to even larger size as he held himself up against the onslaught. No way in hell would he ever bend, ever let go, ever surrender - decades of ruthless training, decades of brutal conditioning... he was ready for this. He was the strength and pride of his entire race. The wall smashed to rubble; he didn't give a shit - his sight was transfixed by the calm that graced the face of Kakarott's wife.

     The ghostly white of her skin clashed with the luxurious black of her messy hair, the frozen strands hanging lazily over her closed eyes. Her face was motionless, her mouth was shut, her lips devoid of any expression or color. Her entire body was without color, without life...
     He knew.

     _____VEGETA!!_____

     A cold bead of sweat dragged along his spine like the icy knife of mortal terror as he finally spotted it. He could only gawk in sheer disbelief as his breath left him, sucked from his lungs by the subtle stream of violent red trailing from her left ear.

     _____NOOOOOO!!!_____

     She was dead.
     He didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to think. Didn't know when, or how or why. His mouth hung open, filled with the stale taste of the dusty air, his unblinking eyes mesmerized by the crimson stream flowing calmly along her neck, staining her innocent skin. The blood tapered over her left shoulder, falling into the white pool of solid lightning surrounding her lifeless body.

     His mind failed. He couldn't form a single thought in his head.
     The loud cracking of the granite countertops snapped Vegeta from his universe of shock and confusion, viciously dragging him back into the waiting nightmare of reality. His mouth formed into a challenging snarl as he forced another foot forward, nearly screaming as he felt the violent resistance of his body. He needed to get closer to the wounded Saiyan. Needed to be close enough for Kakarott to hear him, to stop him from obliterating himself along with every living thing on the planet.
     Another step followed, his own painful screams drowned by the wild rush of noise and vibration as his massive quadriceps began to clench and tighten, crushing his nerves in torturous cramps. Another - followed by another - the pain continued to grow, but his legs would never fail. He would never fail. The ki pushed him, forced him, dug into his skin and shook his very soul. Pain was all he knew, his ears muted by the resounding noise as his screams of anguish were heard by no one.
     Dying in this kitchen, in his kitchen, wasn't an option.
     The Gods could go fuck themselves.
     It seemed like hours - hours of torture, hours of pain and anguish, hours of ripping his bloody claws into the ground to force his way forwards, shredding anything in his path. But finally - finally, he felt close enough to be heard. Gathering what strength he had left, he forced it within the fire of his chest and screamed at the top of his lungs.
     "KAKAROTT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?"
     It should have been heard on the other side of the planet. His mind told him he'd barely heard it himself. There was no way in hell it'd reached the being six feet away from him.
     A flash of remorseless white enveloped his universe - no time to scream, no time to brace himself... barely even enough time to slam his eyes shut and move his arms to block whatever would inevitably follow. Not even the heightened senses of the Second Degree Super Saiyan saw it coming, the flash virtually burning through his eyelids. His whole body felt as if it were ablaze - his aching muscles bulging and ceasing as his body began to betray him once more, toying with the forbidden notion of failure...
     Fuck it. He was already in excruciating pain - how could it possibly be any worse?
     Vegeta groaned as he forced his eyes open, knowing nothing but pain as he stared at the motionless Saiyan before him. In the blink of an eye, Vegeta realized those emerald eyes were staring back at him - staring directly into his soul.
     "Kakarott...?"
     Pain. Uncontrollable pain. Relentless anguish and torment - all maliciously carved onto the young Saiyan's face: carved by the Draconian architect of Hell himself, painted by his soulless demon of despair. Golden blonde continued to flail chaotically around him, controlled by a demented puppeteer invisible to reality; whipping and flailing in the unpredictable path of a tortured manic depressive. The golden spikes trailed across his face, unable to hide the anguish brutally ripping into his flesh with sickening pleasure. Haunting eyes of frozen emerald burned coldly into Vegeta's soul, the presence silently performing the final duties of a destroyed caretaker to the lifeless body in his arms. The barren wastelands of Hell burned through his eyes, fire and torment clawing their way through his tanned skin, screaming in ecstasy as they tortured his very soul.
     Horror overcame his aching body as Kakarott stared at him, glared at him, frozen eyes wanting with all their tormenting pleasure to ignite his darker skin, to see him engulfed in the same malicious torture. Frozen in pure fear, he watched as Kakarott began to weep, his face emotionless as trails of crimson seeped their way down his face, sinking their mark into his flesh.
     Terror had consumed him - a frozen blade shoved deep into his spine. It imprisoned him, his burning legs refusing to so much as twitch as he watched the most powerful being on the planet weep tears of blood.
     "Gods almighty..."
     "DAD!"
     '... What?'
     Vegeta viciously ripped his stare away from the weeping Saiyan before him, nearly tearing every tendon in his neck as he cast his vision in the direction of the invading cry. His neck strained as he spotted a young figure fighting against the waves of ki lashing mercilessly upon his school's uniform.
     "Son of a bitch! Goten!!"
     "Vegeta!"
     The boy had his arms crossed over his face, his eyes peering through the small crack made by his flailing fabric of his sleeves. He stood in the shattered patio doorway, his body straining to remain upright, jet black hair whipping against his shoulders...
     Jet black hair? What the fuck? Kakarott's youngest son was braving the onslaught of his father's uncontrolled wrath without even ascending? How was that possible? Even his clothes were still intact! Everything he'd worn had shredded within seconds of being under such pressure! Fuck, he was lucky he was still standing, let alone still having clothes to cover his ass. How the hell was the brat unaffected by this!?
     The boy took a step forward on the ruined floor, the movement instantly forcing all questions out of Vegeta's head. He didn't have time to give a shit about his clothes - he had to stop Goten from coming any closer.
     'Motherfucker... Kakarott's gonna kill his own godsdamned son...'
     He had to get him out.
     "Goten! Get back!!" His shout was suppressed, lost in the deafening whirl of vibrating noise, lost in the crashing waves of uncontrolled power. The boy did not heed - a defiant foot clawed its way forward as he fought to get closer, come closer, to see something which he never should.
     "Vegeta? What the hell is happening!?" Another step closer, his clothes looking little more than windswept as he effortlessly cut through the repressive waves, ignoring Vegeta's commands. He couldn't see this - he shouldn't see this.
     No one should ever see this.
     "Goten!! Get the fuck back!" His teeth clenched as he shouted once more, the boy's eyes snapping to meet his, confusion and fear ripe within his soul. He needed to keep him back, needed to keep him away - but he was powerless to move, let alone tackle a younger Saiyan without killing them both. If he turned his body to face Goten, he was sure he would be blown clear into the forest behind them, dying instantly from the impact in his weakened state.
     But still the boy pressed forward, his school jacket ripping free of his shoulders and shredding as it disappeared into the blinding light beyond the ruined walls. He still hadn't ascended, his hair remaining black as he took another step. It would only be moments until he could see over his shoulder - until he could see what no child should ever see.
     "Goten! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Vegeta bared his fangs at the boy, his eyebrows deep between his eyes as he snarled at him. He didn't listen. The stupid bastard never fucking listened when it was good for him. All he could do was watch as the boy took his final step, glaring as he watched his eyes widen, the color draining from his face as the realization made itself known.
     "Mom...!?"
     Vegeta backhanded the teen across the face, forcing his body to the floor with a heavy thud. It took more than he had left in him to stay standing, his body screaming in pain, his shredded boots barely able to dig into the broken tiles of the kitchen floor. His chest heaved, his arms stretched - his enlarged muscles rippled and burned to the point of tearing themselves from his bones, tearing his worn body to pieces.
     Goten was back on his feet in seconds, his cries and insults falling on deaf ears as Vegeta turned to stare into the living portals of Hell once more. As long as the boy was alive, he didn't give a shit - he needed to stop Kakarott. Blood continued to seep down Kakarott's wounded face as his stare burned, his body not having moved in the slightest degree. He needed to try - needed to do something.
     "Is this what you want, Kakarott?" He glared straight into the wounded green, trying desperately to sense any impact from his words. "To kill your son too?" Frozen stone stared back, colder and more uncompassionate than he'd ever known. It was only a matter of time - only a matter of time before he killed them all...
     Kakarott's stone eyes blinked.
     "Kakarott!!"
     The blazing Saiyan continued to stare deeply into his eyes, his carved face of torment showing no change. Staring back was all Vegeta could manage. He glared at him, watched him, studied him - all in the hopes of spotting something... something he could exploit.
     Seconds turned in decades... and then it happened again - a movement so quick, Vegeta couldn't believe he'd seen it. Kakarott's sight had flashed over Vegeta's shoulder. Within a split second, his eyes were back to staring into Vegeta's soul as if nothing had changed. But something had changed. He'd noticed the teenager standing against the far wall.
     A gasp forced its way from his burning chest as he felt the ground begin to rumble, the vibrations under his feet intensifying into powerful shaking. Arcs of gold and white cracked along Kakarott's thick muscles, dancing through his hair as it surrounded his body in a hellacious mosaic of untamed power and color. It hit him harder than any punch, any ki blast - his body screamed as he felt his feet begin to falter, his ki nearly drained to the point of nothing. Kakarott's limitless power continued to skyrocket, burning everything around him in blinding white and gold.

     He was unstoppable.
     Vegeta took one last look into Kakarott's eyes, feeling the last of his ki leaving him, feeling his body tense and tear, his heart pounding in his chest to the point of rupture.
     He was going to die.
     Die with his rival.

     Die by his hand.
     "Vegeta."
     The sound of his name echoed throughout his body, smashing off the walls of his skull as the tone made his blood freeze. It was deep, thick, cold, remorseless...
     It was Saiyan.
     Vegeta stared directly at its source, feeling the heat drain from his face as he watched Kakarott's lips move. His voice had dropped into a deep, chilling baritone few could ever be blessed with. It flowed along his nerves, almost soothing his abused body as he stood defiantly in the path of the most powerful being he'd ever known. Never had he heard such power, such depth in a single word. It impressed him, overwhelmed him, filled him with fear... filled him with lust. He needed to hear it again - to hear and heed the words of his home, of all that was his true being.
     When it growled again, Vegeta didn't hesitate.
     "Go."
     His feet surrendered their battle. Throwing his arms wide, he let the wild ki burn him, flow through him, empower him, take his very soul and do what it willed with him. He flew backwards, his lightning blue aura returning around him in an instant as he blasted towards the visibly traumatized teen who stood motionless against a far wall of the kitchen. Ki invaded his body, igniting his skin as it supercharged his core, his head swimming as he wrapped a thick arm around Goten's lower back, nearly smashing the teen's face into his bulging pectorals.
     Horrific screams filled his ears. He didn't look back. He crushed the teen in his arms, snapping his tail around his waist, forcing him hard against his massive body. Ki surged into him, throwing all his power into his legs as he blasted himself vertically through the ceiling of the crumbling house.
     Wood and metal shredded like paper in his wake, his ki violently forcing a path through the second floor of the Son house. The screaming never stopped - deep, painful, horrific. In a split second, the roof was forced away, his electrified body instantly assaulted by the heat of the sun as he blasted his way into the morning air.
     Everything went white.
     His ears were instantly filled with nothing but the raw power of thunder - thick, black noise instantly deafening him to the point of only being able to feel the earth-shattering vibrations pulsing through his ravaged skin. His eyes were useless, blinded by the relentless light of a supernova as the shockwaves reached their zenith, ravaging his body as he charged for the sky. There was no thought, only the instinct to survive.
     He clutched Goten tightly, continuing to blast into the sky well after the shockwave had dwindled, his body having escaped its lethal grasp. It wasn't until he could barely breathe that he finally opened his eyes, finding himself eye-level with a nearby cloud.
     His chest heaved, his arms burned, his legs twitched. He was covered in a thick layer of sweat, his straining muscles forcing it to course into channels as it rolled over his steaming skin. The power of the Second ascension instantly disappeared, his body barely left with enough strength to remain airborne. He knew what lay below for him to discover, but every ounce of reason in his body told him not to look. It was no match for instinct.
     White. A massive dome of white energy had engulfed the planet's surface, covering much more than just the Son house. He could see the shockwave expand outwards, enveloping everything in its onslaught. Trees, rocks, fields, nothing was spared. Vegeta was certain he was witnessing the end of the world.
     With a final blast of explosive light, the entire dome dissipated. The massive thunderclap of the shockwave took moments to reach them, failing to cause any significant damage to his already-temporarily-impaired hearing. As the light disappeared, Vegeta heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing...

     Nothing but shock.
     He was used to seeing mindless terrain damage from causing it countless times throughout his life, but this was different. Clouds of dust and dirt covered the ground as far as he could see, his eyes unable to locate anything differing from the lifeless brown. There were no trees, no grass, no mountains, no rivers... there was nothing.
     Everything had been vaporized.
     He still hadn't let go of Goten - the boy wouldn't be able to handle the sight. Fuck, he could barely handle it, and he'd been surrounded by death all his life. He kept the teenager's face tight against his sweaty chest, his tail tightly wrapped around his waist. Refusing to let his futile squirming phase him, he slowly descended to the ruins below. His eyes twitched frantically, his senses flared - searching for a sign, any sign...
     ... of Kakarott.
     The house was no more. The yard was no more. The entire fucking area was no more.
     There was nothing.
     Nothing but dirt.

     Nothing but death.
     He gazed over the destruction, barely taking it in, his mind completely numb. He'd just survived certain death, and all he cared about was finding... he didn't know what the fuck he wanted to find.

     Spotting a small clearing in the dust cloud, he aimlessly floated over it, his eyes apathetically peering in, wondering if he'd found a window to the ground. The scene it revealed made him gasp, rearing back in violent shock as his mind failed to process what he was seeing.
     A slender frame with folded arms lay on the ground facing him, its eyes closed, its skin untouched.
     "Chichi... ?"
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Wishes of the Fallen