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“You took your time didn’t you, seems like you two had a busy day. What happened, did he make you train for the whole day in those stupid getups?” Washu is more inquisitive about the change of garments and rips and tears in them than she is embarrassed by the compromising position she was found in. The trackers she hid on them before they left stopped reporting in not long after they departed when an extreme power surge she has taken to just calling Vegeta knocked them offline.

“If you must know Washu I believe this will be of great interest to you, for you see it was not training that left these gifts from Vegeta in this state but a fierce battle staged between me and that girl. Needless to say little miss prim and proper can be quite mean when she wants to be and if you thought she looks hideous now, well you ain’t seen nothing yet. Against this brute though I persevered and with the power of love on my side I overthrew the tyrannical princess in this perfectly fair contest of force.” Ayeka bristles as Ryoko twists what truly happened against her. She did not mention the appaling horrors she suffered through or the true nature of Ryoko she had the misfortune of witnessing first hand. Attempting the exact same thing and expecting different results to occur is a sign of madness, or so people say, but that does not stop Ayeka. Having only been back on her feet a very short time after the walloping she took her claws are out and she is ready to pounce.

“Seems I misjudged you again. You two should come with a safety label reading ‘requires supervision at all time’. Apparently letting you two fight it out doesn’t seem to have settled anything between you. Control yourself Lady Ayeka you’re just playing into her hands.” Vegeta stands in the middle of the room like he has been there the whole time, setting down the bags on the floor his eyes drift onto the couple entangled on his couch. Before either woman can continue their everlasting argument he strides towards the two and continues speaking leaving them no gap to poke fun at the other, grievously insult the other, misbehave or disturb the peace in any way, shape or form.

“Today has been a busy day for you Ryoko and Lady Ayeka, I suggest you go to bed and get some rest.” Without a second word the Juraian princess goes up to the room she shares with her younger sister who at this late time has been asleep for a few hours. Ayeka has no wish to stay in the same room as the villainous space pirate who desecrated her body, she has a lot to think about as so much happened today and would prefer to be alone during that time. Ryoko on the other hand sees sleep as something not for her at this minute in time and would prefer to spend a good deal more time with Vegeta now Ayeka has left. That is not to be. Vegeta points up the stairs and sternly looks at her. “Ryoko, bed. Now.”

“Whatever you say Vegeta.” She didn’t require as much persuading as the Saiyan thought she would do to leave him in peace as she phases up through the ceiling after blowing him a kiss and mischievously winking at him. His attention fixes on the two adults making use of his furniture in ways he was never going to, Vegeta does not seem amused.

“Children reside here, leave antics like that for behind closed doors if you must indulge yourselves with such tomfoolery.”

“But Vegeta you seem to forget …. I am a child.” A fairly comical look of shock plays across Yamcha’s face as the woman on him regresses backwards through to the beginnings of puberty. He cannot recoil further back into the chair at this sudden change. Kicking her shorter legs to the side she gracefully dismounts her stunned lover, such inexplicable confusion at what he witnessed though he knew full well she was capable of it. Washu seems bored now, Vegeta is never the life of the conversation and what enjoyment her and Yamcha were just beginning to get into can no longer continue in this place, she heads back towards the door under the stairs. No sooner does she get her hand onto the doorknob and begin to twist then a low gravelly voice breaks the silence of the house.

“I worked it out, fitted all the pieces of the puzzle together. I know what you are … Tuffle.” All of Washu’s motions stop, her hand retracts from the portal into her laboratory and confidently she turns with her own little smile to meet the smirk of Vegeta. Yamcha is none the wiser as to what direction this conversation has taken and they are not about to explain it to the human who has seen so little of what is beyond his own planet.

“I was wondering how long it would take you, well done you broke most of my estimates. Thought it’d take you at least another week to figure it out. Heh, apparently not all Saiyans are barbaric dunderheads.”

“You indeed did not leave me with much to go on. The Tuffles were the most scientific and advanced race known, it makes sense that you are one. One thing though I don’t get: how did you stay quiet about it for so long, that even he who you share bed with had no idea, when you were staying under the same roof as the son of your race’s harbinger of doom.” He might not have been born till after ten year Saiyan-Tuffle war had being waged and the planet taken but during the short time prince and king had together his father always recounted the story of how they took hold of the planet he named after himself. Washu does not appear to be exhibiting the kind of emotion he would normally think a sapient creature would when with someone of the species responsible for their own species’ extinction.

“You think the sins of the father are passed onto the son? True I have no love for your kind except for research purposes but you think someone as smart as me would hate an individual for something that they themselves did not do? You had nothing to do with what your cunning father did, or how he lucked out on our lunar cycle. We are both victims of the genocides that occurred on Planet Plant now, neither of us having our original homeworld and being more or less the last of our kind.” Both have been stripped of all family and kin by an overpowering might, both having that blood coloured planet ripped from them permanently. A moments silence passes between the two opposing sides of life; the creative genius and the destroyer of worlds as they respect those who fell during the extinction events.

“Not all of the Tuffles who survived were so sympathetic. Another scientist called Dr. Raichi did not seem to share your beliefs, were you aware of the Hatchiyak project?” Vegeta tests the waters with this question, he needs to know whether she is really a wolf in sheep’s clothing or not. He doesn’t trust her much as it is but with her species being wiped out by King Vegeta, finding out if there is any residual blame placed on him and a chance she will focus her attention on making his life a greater misery might as well be done.

“Hatchiyak? Don’t tell me he actually got that child’s toy of mine to finally work, it was hardly worth my genius being wasted on a bucket of bolts like that. No power source I ever tried was efficient enough for it to be a viable weapon, Vegeta what did he use?” Vegeta can rest easy tonight, Washu does not seem to care that an attempt to eradicate the Saiyans failed at all.

“You obviously underestimated what that machine was capable of. Grudge amplifying device is all he said about it really … when he was still alive and it wasn’t busy taking on 4 super Saiyans at once.” At the mention of its true capabilities she goes giddy with excitement and the laughter of a mad scientist soon follows.

“4 like you and Goku? HA! I amaze even myself sometimes.”

“Throughout the whole time that he wasn’t being scraped off my boots do you now what that other Tuffle said of you?” The ego of Washu is baited as she goes silent and Vegeta’s smirk widens. “Nothing. Nothing at all, he did not credit you or mention your name. Why is it that one of your inventions could nearly kill me, my son, Kakarot and his kid yet still you could not defend yourselves from a hundred Oozaru?” A quick one two punch from the Saiyan there as he knocks Washu down a few rungs. Frankly she looks majorly pissed and Vegeta is having trouble deciphering which of his taunting slights angered her the most; was it that someone stole years of her life’s work and claimed it as their own whilst surpassing it with a brilliant idea she ought to have thought of or the mockery he made of her inability to save the lives of her science academy friends as they were burned and crushed by monstrous apes.

“Yamcha, we’re leaving.” Washu turns and exits into the single place she can call her own with Yamcha standing up and following her. He says goodnight to Vegeta, who ignores him, and slowly goes to the closing doorway unsure about Washu’s bodily change and whether she will go back to an appearance of someone of legal age.

Chimes call in the midnight hour in the front room for only Vegeta to hear, he looks to the clock and sees it is indeed the witching hour and his ears were not deceiving him. It is late, too late for him to do the training he wants to do. Having not gone to sleep the previous night and having a lightning fast metabolism he is ready for a few hours rest before he goes back to the daily grind. Faint scratching at the door as he passes it on his way to the land of nod alerts him to one forlorn Ryo-ohki having been accidentally locked out and forgotten about mewling to be let back into the warm house. Letting the cabbit back in his house she jumps straight onto his shoulder and meows at him contently, he shrugs off the critter thanking him and continues his march towards his room. Thin streams of light seep between the cracks of the door to his bedroom, he doesn’t recall inadvertently leaving on the light switch but guesses he must have. Although one other possibility does arise in his mind but his senses do not confirm it.

No-one is in his room as he opens the door and closes it behind himself. Crossing the small distance to his bedside he stretches his arms out and yawns. Vegeta has no need of changing his clothes, not one for wearing pyjamas his current attire of swimming shorts will do him just fine. Closing the thin drapes over the window he is all set and ready for what will be a sleep his body urgently needs. Baby blue bed sheets are pulled back from his bed as he sits down ready to rest his body weary from being awake for so long. No act of surprise or shock comes when he hears a faint hiss in the air behind him, his senses start picking up a ki at a very close proximity and arms wrap themselves around his neck.

“Why are you in my bed Ryoko?” The space pirate’s head rests on his broad muscular shoulders, nuzzling his cheeks with her own as he sits there. Ryoko’s full eyelashes fluttering as she strives to get more from Vegeta than that one rapturous kiss she was blessed with.

“It’s what you told me to do, remember? You said we got a full day with you so let’s continue our time together right here, right now.” Her sultry tones are whispered with a deep seated desire into his ears. The warmth of her body against his, her face next to his own, he begins to feel her straining to pull him down onto the bed properly and he resists. Vegeta stands up, pulling her arms off from around him.

“Ryoko it is past midnight, that day has been and gone. Sleep is what I need now not what is going through your mind.” Vegeta’s face is set in hardened stone, no smiles just a small frown of exasperation. Ryoko is kneeling on his bed looking up at him and Vegeta quickly turns his head away from her. The temptress of the night is not wearing the outfit from the fight she won but instead something she bought with his money, one of those private outfits she said she would show him one day and she has kept her word.

“You don’t want me?” Her hurt and dejected eyes beseech him as he looks away from her, taking this avoidance as another heartless rejection of her feelings not that he is getting uncomfortable looking at a woman wearing what she is currently dressed in. Ryoko sitting in black lace lingerie and Vegeta stood in nothing more than underwear, he doesn’t want to be going through things like this now.

“I want to sleep, in my own bed and alone. I trained through all of last night and am tired, let me rest in peace.” Vegeta brusquely replies hazarding a glance at her seductive nightwear she is wearing especially for him, he tries not to look for too long at the enticing female lest he fall victim to the siren’s call. His harsh response hurts her, she looks down not knowing what she will have to do to earn his affection that she so longs for.

“Tell me Vegeta … do you love me?” Her golden eyes stare into his. Vegeta takes half a step back from this sudden intimate question, he can’t tear his eyes from those locked on his own. His throat goes dry as any intelligent answer to her question flies out of his mind, tongue tied he stands there stuttering. “… Y-you love Ayeka, don’t you…” Vegeta has no idea what to say under these circumstances as Ryoko continues to press her questioning. Sweat forms on his forehead as the prince’s brain continues to draw blanks on shutting her up. Her voice is getting louder as Ryoko carries on her train of thought. “ … You don’t love me because I’m not a princess like her, I’m not ladylike or from high birth like you two are. You always call her ‘Lady’ but not me, why?”

“Did you get hit hard on the head during that fight? What’s with these questions, you had all day and you choose now to bring this up. I’m tired, this can wait till morning.” Vegeta finally comes back around to his senses but Ryoko continues pressing on the matter.

Noises are disturbing her rest, only having just laid her head down on the feather pillows of her bed Ayeka opens her eyes. Eyes that are red and puffy from crying. Getting ready for sleep she caught a glimpse of something new. Her blood froze as she saw it, flashes of the fight and the pain race through her mind as she sees the word etched across her back. She believed that the healing beans had got rid of what Ryoko did to her but they hadn’t, just like they didn’t regrow the locks of hair cut from her head. She felt pity for herself and disgust at her own body, no princess should be scarred in such a way.

The voices drifting through the walls get louder and louder till she can ignore them no longer. A female voice and a male voice, her depression has built an apathy to these sounds. A man and woman’s voice that she begins to recognise. They sound as if they are both in his room talking to each other about something but Ayeka cannot think what they would both be doing talking at a time like this in his room at night-time alone. Immediately she springs out of her bed and barges open her door waking up Sasami as she storms out down the corridor.

Vegeta and Ryoko turn to look at Ayeka as she slams open the door, bloodshot eyes with the same look they had in them when Ryoko called her a transvestite scan the room. Her fine and thin purple eyebrows frown and furrow as she takes in the scene seeing what Ryoko is, or mainly isn’t, wearing.

“What are you doing here in Lord Vegeta’s room?!” The Juraian seethes as she stomps towards the space farer.

“What’s it look like? Same as you princess, just paying Vegeta a little night visit.”

“Th-that is not what I am doing here!”

“Um so why are you dressed in only your nightie then?” Ryoko raises her eyebrows in accusation, her sly tongue finding something to halt the princess’ offensive. Ayeka stands still and looks down realising too late her state of dress hardly being any better than that of who she is complaining to concerning her indecency. Their attention is drawn to the groaning Vegeta, he is getting tired of the repetition of going through the same song and dance all the time.

“Can both of you exit my room, I am going to go to bed.” Each second he is awake is more energy he is burning through at an alarming rate. Being a Saiyan is like being a candle five times as bright as all others, it isn’t long before the wick is all gone and it is time to recharge.

“Oh you can go to bed all right, you won’t be getting much sleep though, hehe.” Another of Ryoko’s winks is directed towards him as she pats next to her on the mattress. Snarls are elicited from Ayeka by such a lewd comment. Hands grab onto Ryoko’s shoulders as she tries to prise her from the bed of her prince. Her efforts are in vain, neither woman is going to use their reserves of strength at a time like this so Ryoko simple has to put herself so her body is visible but unable to interact and be interacted with.

“What? What is it princess, you want to join in too? Sorry but that’s not my style Ayeka.” A faint redness seeps into Ayeka’s cheeks at the insinuation as she backs away from the dirty minded pirate.

“Wha- no, no! It’s not like that, I – I was just trying to -”

“Ok I give up. If you two are going to continue bothering me and keep me awake I might as well go and train.” Vegeta’s patience has waned into nothingness. His form vanishes from the room leaving the two women. For the second night in a row he trains till the Sun rises and beyond. There is no rest for the wicked.

Never again shall he dare go clothes shopping. Getting himself some swimming shorts proved no problem, a quick in and out procedure of go into the shop, find some and pay for them. That was not where his problem was though. With him all done he then had to go and wait for the two women to make up their minds on what swimming costume they shall wear. Forcefully dragging Ryoko away from the bikinis made of apparently nothing but a few pieces of string created quite a scene, he will not allow her to be seen near him if she goes around so scantily clad. Such an obvious ploy from her especially after he had to dissuade her from going swimming in the nude and having to explain that human’s have laws concerning public acts of indecency like that. So embarrassed he felt, a proud Saiyan crusader, stood in the aisles of women’s swimwear. The space pirate being so barefaced about her attempts to seduce him with the revealing clothing, holding up different items of clothing to see if he has a positive reaction to any – which he didn’t – and even going as far as pretending to need help with something in the changing room. The cunning mind of a warrior of thousands of battles will not fall for a petty ruse and ignores the attention seeking behaviour to check on how Ayeka is doing. Him being around her proves counter productive though for as soon as she sees him she blushes brightly, having to get and later on wear revealing clothes such as these is testing her sensibilities. Vegeta is glad when it is all over, taking 20 more minutes than it would have done if her went alone.

Removing his arms from the women clinging to him he bends over and rummages around in the carrier bags for some towels, finding them he takes them out and lays them down on the ground with a good 2 feet distance between each towel. The women are enjoying the view: Ayeka of this mystical place she has dreamt of for so long and Ryoko of Vegeta bending over. In a flash the Saiyan is laying down on the central towel in his plain black swimming shorts with a neat folded pile of his clothes next to him that sinks deeply into the sand from its enormous weight, he’ll have to dig them out later. Not since before his death has he lain down and he welcomes the relaxation. After being brought back from the eternal sleep – and thinking what probably went on during his absence in that bed -he had no want for visiting his place of rest and so tried to make up for a month’s lost amount of training, from dusk till dawn he strove for more strength. Stress and a night’s worth of built up tension and fatigue seeps out from his muscles as he lounges in the bright sunlight. Vegeta feels two pairs of eyes on him, he opens his eyes to look up at the rogue and royal stood above him. Cat like yellow irises are absorbing every facet of his near naked body and lapping it up as the bashful princess seems to be hiding her glances at the man laying at her feet. Ryoko dives for her purchase, seeming very eager to join Vegeta and show off her body with Ayeka Jurai also fishing out her own. The relaxation of Vegeta comes to an abrupt end as he stands up and puts his hands on Ryoko’s arms to stop her in taking her dress off in plain sight.

“Ryoko there are changing rooms over there, use them.” Ayeka was tentatively looking for someplace to switch into her swimming costume and heads off in relief seeing the small building designed for such purposes.

“Oh but that’s no fun Vegeta. C’mon I know you want to see.” She cheekily winks at him and strokes his bare chest, his face shows no change in emotion.

“I explicitly told you to behave yourself Ryoko …”

“Not even a little peek?…You got changed right here though so why can’t I? Not like there’s anyone else around to see but that snooty despot.” Vegeta does not see why she always has to continue to persist, a good sign of a fighting spirit he’ll give her that but this is not what he requires on his day out.

“Can you move faster than all physicists say is possible, if not then the changing rooms are still over there.” She trudges off in a huff with a sullen look of defeat on her face, she hates these rejections from him of her body. Vegeta settles himself back down and closes his eyes, keeping company with both of those women is more draining than any rigorous exercise he has ever put his body through … he wonders if it’s all just some test that will improve him in the end. The joys of doing nothing rarely appeal to him but the ability to be able to do so is something considering where he was but less than two days ago. Last time he was at the beach was a couple of years before the whole Majin Buu incident, he loathed it; sand everywhere, people everywhere and Trunks was little more than a toddler crying and whining all the time.

Several minutes pass as Vegeta ponders a few things, just some private time to mull certain things over in his mind. His brain never comes to a conclusion over it as two shadows block out the Sun, he already knew they were there though but despite that he waited for them to make their prescence known to him. Opening his eyelids he is greeted to a very welcome sight, men would give their lives for a glimpse at women like this and all he is doing is betting to himself how long it takes for another argument to occur. Ryoko is wearing a red bikini with frilled crimson and black material decorating it, for the price paid for it Vegeta thought it might have some gems hidden within it or humans are just greedier and stupider than he gave them credit for. A great slash revealing the unblemished midriff of Ayeka on the perfect white one piece swimsuit is making her feel uncomfortable and on display like her alabaster legs. Well they definitely look better in outfits like that than Bulma did is all Vegeta can say. Sly grin and slight blush set themselves down on either side of him with Ryoko edging her towel right next to Vegeta’s as she lays on her side looking at him, or to be correct looking at his chest. Remembering something, the prince of Saiyans takes out two small blue bottles from the plastic bags and chucks one to both Ayeka and Ryoko, good reflexes allow them to catch the objects and look at them and the weird opening of the top designed for spraying.

“Sun cream, apply it on your skin and it will not get burnt by the direct sunlight. This planet has an extremely weak ozone layer after all the fights that have taken place on it as you may have noticed.” Staring straight at the Sun as he says this he thinks of at least 20 ways in which things could hastily worsen into a major problem.

“I thank you Lord Vegeta, it is most considerate of you to go out of your way on behalf of my own personal wellbeing.” Ayeka sweetly smiles at him as he accepts her words of gratitude and both women start to rub the sun cream into their exposed skin – Ryoko being Ryoko she is trying her darnedest to make the simple act the most provocative it can possibly be and having as much luck in succeeding as she ever does. All is peaceful for a while just Sun, sea and sand. Until, that is, he feels fingers being traced on one of his massive pectoral muscles by the fingernails of a most wanted criminal.

“Vegeta, can you help me? I can’t reach my back properly.” He turns his head to the side to face her as her fingers claw lightly along the rough grooves of scar after scar. “I won’t try any funny business I swear, I’ve been good today haven’t I?” Thinking about it he would have to agree with her on that, he saw her pass by the whole financial district and not rob any of the buildings and banks though he saw how much she desperately wanted to. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and exhales lengthily relinquishing himself to doing her bidding for the time being, she rolls over onto her back giggling happily as she caught a look at Ayeka’s face as Vegeta moves away from the princess and onto her towel. “Be gentle with me Vegeta, hehe.” The prince of Saiyankind cannot use any of his preternatural swiftness here, the lotion would evaporate and render moot any of his efforts, he has to do things the old fashioned way like most mortals. Content purrs of a thoroughly happy and gleeful Ryoko grate as fingernails on a chalkboard down across the Juraian princess’ mind. That look of pure enjoyment radiating from the woman her prince is touching, oiling and with the hands of someone experienced at doing so. Her annoyance is rising, the thin strands restraining her are pulled taught and all but snap when Ryoko sticks her tongue out in an impertinent manner.

“ Umm … Vegeta? What’re you doing?” As a punishment for pulling faces he decided to stick his finger coated in sun cream on her tongue so she would learn not to do so, for some reason the foul tasting liquid did nothing to her. He quickly withdraws from her and sits back down on his own towel with her confused eyes lingering on him with a rosiness spreading on her cheeks.

“N-nothing! There I did as you asked. … By any chance do you happen to have no taste buds?”

“Taste buds? What are they?” Vegeta knew it, he was sure he smelt one of the wine bottles from lunch being badly corked yet she did not notice and it was one of the first bottles she consumed so it couldn’t have been the senseless oblivion of alcohol that caused this.

“Lord Vegeta? … C-could you umm …” Vegeta takes this excuse to drop his conversation with Ryoko he didn’t want to have – how she is missing one of the five major senses. Ayeka is holding the bottle of sun cream close to her chest and looking at it whilst talking to him. “… It would seem that I also require aid in applying this to my back. Would you be so kind as to help me as well in this matter?” As she apprehensively asks this question she holds out the sun cream to him and faces him with a nervous and embarrassed look on her face. He perfunctorily concedes to doing the same thing for her he did for Ryoko though her bathing costume does reveal much less of her that would require to be sun creamed. Roles reversed, Ayeka feels the strong and firm fingers kneading her flesh as Ryoko can look on and stew in jealousy. The purple haired maiden has never had a man ever touch her in such an intimate manner before, she would be lying if she said she did not enjoy it but should a high princess of the hallowed courts of the Jurai royal family be enjoying pleasures such as these. Vegeta gets the job done quickly and finishes when he hears a very quiet moan escape the princess, he just wants to try and get some rest not go through the hassle of appeasing two needy women. Two ears beside Vegeta’s picked up on that sound and prick up as her eyes narrow, biting her lip throughout observing the Saiyan’s hands caressing her pale skin she can abide this no longer.

“Vegeta! I’ll do your back now, hehe.” Ryoko lunges as fast as she can across the short distance to his unprotected flank, he nimbly dodges this gainless attempt with no effort at all. Ayeka lets out a scream seeing the pirate rocketing towards her as Ryoko phases out of existence and back in again directly above Vegeta to approach him from another angle. Diving down at her top flying speed with gravity on her side still means naught to Vegeta. He clamps his hands around her wrists and holds her upside down in front of him as the blue bottle spills form her hand onto the scorching sands of the beach. Disheartened golden eyes stare into his ebony pupils and the eager smile on her face has washed off.

“Saiyan skin is not so weak that it requires protective chemicals, our hide is tough enough to withstand the most extreme levels of all nature’s elements.” Vegeta releases his grip on her and lounges back down onto his drying cloth, she continues to hover in the air as he left her. With gravity acting on her in this manner her hair bears a distinct similarity to that of the raised spikes of Vegeta.

“Aaaw, I was just trying to have some fun you grump. Can’t you be just a teensy bit less serious all the time, live a little.” Ryoko’s sullen face drifts down into his view as she lowers herself closer to the earth and the Saiyan prince’s lap.

“I am living a lot more than a week ago, isn’t that enough for you?” She struck a chord he does not want to be reminded of – besides his defeat at Goku’s hands his deaths are his most shameful memories.

“So insensitive Ryoko, stop pestering Lord Vegeta.” Ayeka feeling left out of the conversation jumps in, she sees an opportunity to belittle the space pirate and gladly will take it. Ryoko simply looks at her then back at Vegeta choosing to ignore the royal decree of Ayeka. Floating down and rotating round so she is the right way up, the cyan maned woman sits down cross legged next to Vegeta and looks down at him.

“Hey, Vegeta.” He lazily drifts his eyes across to her. She has her gaze fixed on his face and is smiling gaily. “ So … did you prefer touching my soft and delicate skin or Ayeka’s?” Vegeta was not expecting that, he did not foresee this line of inquiry and so freezes with an awkward and uncomfortable look at being put under the spotlight like this. The princess perks up hearing her name mentioned and although taking offense at the obvious insult from Ryoko waits to hear the prince’s verdict. Vegeta’s eyes close as he moves one of his hands to his temples to massage it whilst he thinks. This is a good sign for both women, or they think so, because if he is taking the time to make a judgement in his head then surely he must have strong opinions on the matter – opinions concerning their beauty. Ayeka and Ryoko’s eyes flash at each other and back at their prince awaiting his words to see who he favours. The silence is broken by a deep grumbling from Vegeta’s stomach, he immediately opens his eyes and sits bolt upright.

“ Ayeka Masaki Jurai had the softer skin I believe, hard to tell.” He says this and prepares for the repercussions .

“What?! NO! Vegeta!” It is safe to say that the space pirate is not too happy with his choice, in fact it would be closer to horror she is feeling. Vegeta was asked to choose and so he did, if it doesn’t please her that is her problem.

“Hahaha, oh come now Ryoko you didn’t expect him to pick your old, wrinkled skin over mine which is still so youthful. Maybe you’re just going senile.” Ayeka could not be any happier with this result, praise from Vegeta on her supple and velvety skin and Ryoko coming in second place behind her.

“I’M NOT OLD! … Right Vegeta?” Her eyes lock onto him full of hopefulness that he didn’t mean what he said or that is was some kind of sick joke. She can see no hint of amusement in his eyes just the normal deadpan. Giggling from Ayeka claws at Ryoko’s mind.

“I think we should let the numbers speak for themselves, the fact is you are 5 times older than me and you are sagging 5 times as much.” She said it, that one word Ryoko hates above all others, ‘sag’. There is no going back from that, any other insult she could have wiped off or ignored but with this there shall be blood one way or another.

“Grrr, I hate you! This is just some mistake, he meant to say my name but he just got frightened when he saw your ugly mug.” Ryoko will not admit defeat on this, she can’t accept it. How her little harmless question backfired so badly for her is something she just doesn’t understand. Even though she continually looks to Vegeta for support he appears to have taken an entirely neutral stance, supporting neither woman after those fateful words he said.

“Poor Ryoko, you obviously haven’t looked in a mirror for a good few decades if you think that I am the one with a face that causes small children to cry.” Ayeka pushed it too far, Ryoko’s fist flies straight and true for her face to rectify what the princess said. Fear grips the purple haired woman’s eyes as she sees the violence intended for her and the pure rage of Ryoko directed straight at her. The punch is stopped by Vegeta. Putting his open hand out he catches it and takes the impact without flinching or causing him any pain or harm.

“You already broke the rule concerning flight Ryoko, are you about to go and also start a fight? Disobedience must run in your blood.” Only now with the inevitable occurring does Vegeta step in and cease any escalations. His hand closes over Ryoko’s but she yanks it away.

“I- I don’t believe this! You’re taking her side again. How could you? First you say you don’t like my body and then – ” Cyan hair flies out of its holdings and flows long and free once again as she wrenches out the bobble and throws it at Vegeta. The small ring of cotton combusts before it gets close to him.

“Ryoko I said her skin was softer than yours, it is hard to detect with palms as callused as mine but there was one main thing I could distinguish between. You have a scar received from battle, Ayeka has never been in a true fight and so never collected the mark of a warrior.” The space pirate pauses. She looks over her bare shoulder to see the same scar he is referring to, the one racing down from her right shoulder blade to the bottom of the left-hand side of her ribcage. A horrible and nasty imperfection that runs jagged and rough down her otherwise unblemished back.

“… My scar? …” Vegeta nods sternly as she says this. His own body – nearly every square inch – riddled and ravaged with the souvenirs of war, the permanent reminders of when he was too slow, too weak or overconfident. “You think I’m ugly because of my scar, don’t you?” Her face and heart sink, always so proud to show off her body whenever possible but always she forgets the thing on her back.

“My that is quite a horrible disfigurement, you won’t find anything like that on my perfect skin.” Neither of the others pay attention to Ayeka, her mockery of Ryoko goes thoroughly ignored. Vegeta’s attention is on the space pirate alone, his own defaced back turned to Ayeka.

“Ryoko you don’t know much about Saiyans, in our culture scars are proof that we are true fighters. The more scars a Saiyan wears and still remains alive the more respect their comrades will have for him or for her. I will admit that I have cheated the system and have more than a life’s worth of scars rendering them moot but yours looks as though it was a deep slash by an energy weapon. Unless your vital organs differ from the average humanoid then that would have pushed you close to death. You fought hard to survive and endure and that is the Saiyan way.”

“ Vegeta … y-you mean it?” There is no lie hidden in his eyes. He nods in response. “You think it isn’t grotesque but … something to respect me for?” For a second time he nods in a positive response to her question. Vegeta’s signature smirk appears seeing the look of pure mirth and relief on Ryoko’s face. The widest smile of blithe happiness grins back at the Saiyan prince as she pounces on him and the smile only gets bigger as she sees Ayeka’s look of irascibility. Disconcerted by the bodily contact with a woman in not a lot of clothing, Vegeta stays absolutely still feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his pronounced slabs of muscles.

“Unhand Lord Vegeta you shameless wench .” Much to her surprise Ryoko does let go of Vegeta and lays back down on her own towel, with that shocking compliance to her wishes Ayeka also relaxes back down to bask in the glorious sunlight. A great sandstorm encompasses the towels with a great wall of sand thrown up into the air in a straight line heading towards the waters edge. Vegeta’s form did not fade from either woman’s vision as he stood up, went to the ocean, caught a fish, chargrilled the unlucky sea creature and came back to sit down at his place between them. Wiping the sand from their eyes and out of their hair, Ayeka and Ryoko hear the sound of bones and scales crunching as the Saiyan feasts on the bounties of the ocean. A picked clean skeleton is discarded back into the waters from which it came from and the beach becomes an oasis of serenity for the trio just relaxing in each other’s company.

The silence and calm is broken after close to an hour of nothing, Vegeta is pleasantly surprised that hell on earth did not break out during that time. Ayeka wakes from the nap she drifted off into with a start and looks about widely at being woken up so suddenly. She finds a beach ball by her side and sees a group of young men not too far away, the culprits who awoke her so rudely. One of the carefree beachgoers is jogging towards her following the cardinal rule of you kicked it you fetch it. She picks up the spherical object in her hands as she stands up to return his possession back to him, her ill feelings towards him gone now she sees it was accidental and not deliberate. Detecting movement the two others lounging about sit up, nothing else is happening so they might as well watch what Ayeka is doing.

“Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t mean to hit ya. Didn’t hurt you did I?” The bronzed skin of the man shows he spends quite a good deal of time at the beach. His day has brightened up seeing these two exotic women on the beach, he believes he is in luck, but his blood and very soul freezes seeing Vegeta. Although an incredibly fit human by most standards he pales into nothingness in comparison with the honed bulk of the Saiyan, the older alpha male with his females sees no threat from this new comer. A gracious acceptance of this apology and the princess gives him back his ball to continue his game with his mates. The random person is just about to turn back and go on his way when he decides to take the plunge.

“Hey little missy I was just wondering, well you see we’re a man down, so wouldya like to join us? I’m sure your ma and pa won’t mind if you ditched them to come play with me and the lads.” Ayeka has no mind to leave her prince for some commoner, much less for some ball game, but what his ill chosen words have done Ayeka likes. The Saiyan contemplates that in all honesty he is within an age range that could have sired her but it is Ryoko who has a problem with this man. Quite a big problem.

“Mother!” She seethes through her gritted teeth at the man, fires of fury lighting. Vegeta stops her from jumping up and eviscerating the man where he stands, with one strong arm he holds her in place so she cannot commit the murder she would so love to. Ayeka is grinning slyly to herself witnessing the great upset in her rival. Whispering in hushed tones for her to calm down and behave herself, Vegeta is still trying to soothe the infernal wrath of the woman scorned – albeit unsuccessfully.

“I am sure that dear old mother wouldn’t mind but – ”

“Oh it’s Ok son go ahead and have fun, you could do with making a few friends.” Ayeka’s chuckles are cut short as Ryoko escapes from Vegeta’s imprisoning grasp, utilising phasing and teleportation at the same time he couldn’t stop or touch her. “He’s always been like this but don’t treat him any differently.” As gobsmacked as the man is by a bikini clad woman materialising out of thin air to stand in front of him the cogs in his head slowly churn against each other in realisation at this false information. Ayeka and Vegeta look at Ryoko as though she has totally lost the plot, not understanding what craziness she is saying. However, they don’t look half as confused as the guy holding the beach ball – mentally disoriented and scared of this situation.

“Uh… yeah umm … well uh … Woah is that the time, I totally need to be err got important stuff to do. Goodbye, see ya later sir.” The man is gone, a trail of sand in his wake as he runs back to his friends. A pirate is nothing if they don’t know how to exploit certain aspects of people and this time she counted on humans having unreasonable prejudices against people not seen as conforming to the norm, that is something human beings have in abundance. She heartily laughs blissfully at how she got her own back on the princess, her revenge could only taste sweeter if she knew what the taste of something sweet was. How the tables have so quickly been turned. Ayeka is fuming. She is mad, horribly mad, never before has she reached this level of pure, undiluted, sheer anger for one person.

“SIR!” Venom milked from malice runs in rivulets with her words, a terrible anger distorting her face into a countenance that would leave the bravest souls quaking in their boots. “The … The outrage! He … THAT DIMWIT, actually believed your filthy lies! How dare you!” Steely eyes fix onto Ryoko with malice and contempt in her tone. Ryoko continues to laugh in Ayeka’s face, uncaring at the enormous rage before her. “Never before have I been so insulted! YOU WILL PAY!”

“What’s the matter? Just got rid of that bothersome nuisance for you, see I was doing you a favour … transvestite prince of Jurai.” A fresh burst of belly laughs escapes from Ryoko at her teasing and mocking of Ayeka. The burning fury within has built to terrifyingly high levels, she has been gravely insulted and slandered as a princess and as a woman, she will not stand idly around. The sand crunches under her feet and fuses into miniscule glass craters, slowly advancing towards her target Ayeka’s Juraian powers awaken. A host of miniature guardians spawn and hover around like satellites to the princess. Vegeta concludes this is the end to their nice day out in the wide open world, neither woman is responsible enough to be trusted in public situations. A Saiyan stands between the two women nearly able to feel the palpable rancour manifest. One arm grabs Ayeka roughly and the other Ryoko as he holds them apart from each other. Shame befalls him as his short height means that both women have longer arms than he and so are capable of almost getting to each other still. Instant Transmission whisks them away from the coast.

Throwing on one of his slightly worn out leather jackets, jeans and t-shirts he is ready for the day . He already made the mistake of walking about in public in his Saiyan training gear once. The stares following him, watching him go about his business and laughing behind his back. He recalls that being a day when the hospital in West City saw a sharp rise in number of patients who suffered from trauma sustained in what was chalked down to vehicle related injuries. Next time they shall think twice before mocking the prince of Saiyans. As is expected he is ready long before the two accompanying him are, a full half hour he waits meditating. Why they put such effort into their appearance and not into strengthening themselves still baffles him, females remain as much an enigma to him as they were when he first met Bulma.

Ayeka is the first to appear out of his front door. He told her earlier when he woke up not to dress too extravagantly or else they will draw attention to themselves, apparently he should have also told her that no one else on the planet wears ornate or elaborate robes like they must do on Jurai. She feels her outfit is the most ‘normal’ in her wardrobe and Vegeta would probably have to agree with her on that: a long and flowing dark purple kimono with blue cuffs and collar all tied back with a green and red bow around her waistline. They exchange pleasantries and greetings, he notices her eagerness and can’t blame her for apart from his house there is only one other place on his planet she has seen. Her happy mood soon sours when the second woman walks towards them.

A simple knee length black dress. One single thin red line sprouting from her left shoulder spirals down her dress meeting and terminating at the cut running up and exposing her right thigh. Ryoko once again has attempted to tame her hair back in a ponytail but the wild spikes still mostly prevail and, as per Vegeta’s instructions, has not got her tail accessory adorning her slender waist. The Saiyan prince greets the final person making up their party and with that takes both women’s hands in his own and uses Instant Transmission to take them to the antipode of where his house is located. As the three forms vanish from the lakeside Yamcha, Trunks, Sasami and Washu bid them adieu from the threshold. Right on schedule a blip appears on the horizon. This small black dot swoops across miles of terrain growing in size. Covering the many leagues that lie between his house and that of his best mate Trunks, Goten arrives.

With the whole class all punctual and here the two lovers look down at the three children beaming at them expectantly. Although he kindly offers whatever assistance he can provide to Washu she dismisses his aid preferring to go solo for the first lesson. With shoulders slumped in defeat, the woman with the intellect to rival that of all people on Earth combined reluctantly trudges towards her lab with the kids in tow. They follow her through her dimensional gateway to receive the education they were promised … whilst Washu racks her mind for plans of such cunning ingenuity and guile to alleviate this burdensome task from her magnificent mind. Over a hundred ideas are generated and discarded as she continues to lead them into the deeper and darker depths of her cherished laboratory.

Yamcha has the house to himself, if you don’t count the two feline creatures that are nowhere to be seen. With his help not needed, no pressing issues to contend with and, more importantly, no Saiyan hogging the artificial gravity room he goes to train. Practise makes perfect as they say but practise all he might Yamcha knows there is a very large glass ceiling separating him from those with Saiyan blood running through their veins. He might never be able to save the day or be of any use should anyone choose to attack his homeworld but to him those are no reasons to stop. Just like Vegeta, training his body to be the ultimate weapon is his life and all he has ever really known. Being a professional sportsman might have held many benefits but when there is no challenge to the game the cries and shouts of adoring fans soon turned to hollow echoes rattling round his skull. Only the occasional fight on the pitch would abate his ennui but now he has the facilities to train and someone to fight for. Yamcha would have traded all the wealth he accumulated as the best baseball player the world will ever see, the fame and all his possessions that were stripped from him for a woman to love him without a second thought. Although he knows every single martial art in existence, at 250 times the Earth’s natural gravity he goes over every single move and teaching for Washu.

Minutes tick by and the strength ebbs out of his body from the extreme conditions of the room. Weariness and fatigue set their deep roots into his flesh draining from him his will and ability to continue. He switches off the machine creating the gravity and warms down his muscles before exiting. Yamcha flicks the beads of sweat from his eyes and runs his hands through the thick strands of his mane. Opening his eyes he backs away from a face right in front of his own. Washu had been waiting behind the door leading out of the training chamber for only a bit to startle him and smiles happily from the success of her little jape. She says hello to him whilst he recoils from her sudden appearance, she seems extremely pleased about something and it is unnerving him .

“Uhh yeah hi, I was just thinking about you.” He starts most conversations to Washu with those last few words just to make life for himself easier. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with the little tykes and teaching them stuff?” A cold unseated fear drifts over him as he witnesses her heavenly and lusciously rosy lips morph into a sly grin.

“HAHA! That Vegeta thought he had outsmarted me but he forgot that I, Washu, am the greatest and most beautiful intellectual. He merely tasked me with such a simple thing as giving those children an education but never in which way to do it.” Yamcha starts to think to himself he shouldn’t have left poor innocent children with his mistress of knowledge. “Right this second they are having bestowed upon them all the knowledge that they require from one of my old brilliant inventions! I called it Washu’s cranial data convection helm of scholarship! I whipped this baby up 7 centuries ago and revolutionised learning in five solar systems and now it frees me from such a menial and debasing task, Mwuhahahahahahahah!” The manic cackles of a mad scientist do little to reassure Yamcha about the health and wellbeing of the children in their care. He shouldn’t have left them at the mercy of her. Washu’s cackles are really beginning to freak him out, the crazed eyes and Cheshire smile warping his beloved’s face.

“What is it Yamcha? Is something wrong?” She has noticed the weird and fearful way in which he is now looking at her. As she looks at him with raised eyebrows and a questioning look he starts to panic. The truth would definitely not be the right thing to say in this situation so Yamcha thinks fast.

“Oh…err. .. nothing’s wrong. How could anything be wrong when you’re here. It’s just that once again you astound me with your brilliance … and have a very cute laugh.” He appeals to her massive inflated ego, the one sure thing guaranteed to work and that it does. Washu’s face smiles at him. He weakly smiles back.

“You know flattery will get you everywhere.” Her smile holds none of the earlier manic glee and he lets the breath he had been holding in escape in relief. Washu is always one to repay a good deed with another and so in appreciation for his kind words she affectionately hugs him tightly, he returns the favour embracing her also and tenderly kissing her gently on the flawless skin of her neck.

Meanwhile Vegeta, Ryoko and Ayeka spawn into existence in some quiet suburban alleyway. As always Ayeka has a slight adverse reaction to the instantaneous form of transport, as she winces in discomfort the space pirate looks about the dark and dingy guinnel trying to glimpse what this world has to offer. Ayeka goes to move her hand to her aching stomach as Ryoko tries to take off and fly out of the darkness into the sunlit street. Both fail simultaneously. Ayeka’s hand and Ryoko’s are still being held onto by Vegeta from the Instant Transmission. They look down to see their fingers interlocking his coriaceous, gloveless digits. Vegeta knows what he is doing, he hasn’t suddenly had a massive change in his scarred blackness of a heart but just wanted to grasp their attention. That he certainly has as well as causing slight colour to grace their cheeks at this touch.

“There are some basic rules you must comply with whilst in my company here, I shall not hesitate to take either of you back should you misbehave. Under no circumstances will you fly or show off any of your powers that these weaklings are incapable of, understand Ryoko?” Vegeta is stern and serious, today is not a day he wishes to be messed about by the natives. Any unwanted attention might cause people to recognise who he is, not a public figure but still he was the husband of Bulma Brief the head of Capsule Corporation … and the man who murdered hundreds at the last world tournament in front of television cameras.

“Hey, why me?” Ryoko looks disheartened at not being able to use her favourite form of travel, she always feel so liberated and free when her feet aren’t touching the ground.

“You were just about to fly out of this passageway, were you not?” Ryoko nods, unenthusiastically agreeing to the laws he is laying down. A small price to pay for Vegeta to hold hands with her and stay with her for a full day. The modest princess never planned on such extravagant conduct when out in public but there is one thing she has been thinking about though.

“Lord Vegeta will we not stand out at all, some of us do have rather striking appearances.” Vegeta for a second thought she might have had something constructive to say, not something fuelled by vanity.

“Why thank you Ayeka for noticing. But no need to worry about my beauty, I’m used to the attention.” Gripping Vegeta’s hand with both of hers and pulling closer to him, Ryoko annoys Ayeka by turning her statement against her.

“Ha what utter drivel, the only reason people look at you are those massive and, quite frankly, ridiculous ears of yours.” The aforementioned appendages twitch, sticking clean out of the unsuccessfully ponytailed hair of Ryoko. Vegeta can see just where this day is destined to end up. Ryoko strikes back. This insult will not be met with an offhand remark or trading of witticisms, releasing one of her delicate hands from Vegeta she then proceeds to throw herself at him. Caressing him with the dark sleeves of her costume wrapping around the prince’s well built chest.

“Vegeta, Ayeka’s being mean to me. You don’t think my ears look silly do you?” The prince of all Saiyans does not appear to be amused. It has been less than a minute and the bickering has already begun. Looking up to the face of Ryoko with her feigned innocence and across to the growling princess of Jurai, Vegeta chooses to amend the rules he set.

“Can both of you try and behave yourselves? It’s not much to ask is it? For this one day: no fighting, no arguing and try to get along.” He watches as both women’s eyes continue to linger on the other, neither breaking this glare.

“OK! Let’s go!” Ryoko stops glowering and just smiles contently at Vegeta. Ayeka does not fail to notice the extreme proximity of Ryoko to Vegeta or how she is nuzzling closer and resting her cheeks on his broad shoulders. The Saiyan doesn’t seem to mind the cyan haired beauty clinging onto him and it seems to be keeping her quiet and out of trouble which is all fine by him. However, he is not so blind as to see this is only pleasing one of the two women whereas the other’s eyes are boring maliciously straight into the back of Ryoko, very evil thoughts being directed that way. Vegeta is seeing this situation to only have one viable solution, to treat both women perfectly equally.

“Come now.” With Ayeka’s hand still in his he pulls her in closer. She is startled at finding herself face to face with him, her body next to his with an arm offered towards her. Her pretty face starts to warm and glow at this gesture as she accepts it and slowly links arms with Vegeta. Hesitantly she looks at him to see if he is Ok with such a public show of affection but as always his face yields as much emotion as a the brick wall behind him. Ryoko frowns for a few seconds seeing this but in the end decides that she is the one hugging Vegeta and all Ayeka is doing is linking arms so soon becomes happy again as they take their first steps to leave this grimy alley. Leading the way into the sun’s rays and straight into a bustling street full of humans going about their business with a woman in tow on either side of him, Vegeta heads off on his way striding purposefully towards his objective within this city he previously resided in. The hubbub of urban life distracts all homo sapiens briskly walking past and overtaking the three aliens. Blinded to these strangers in their midst by the blinkers of modern day living, not a single person stops to observe their surroundings for if they did then they would be treated to the sight of a Saiyan prince strolling down the high street with a Juraian princess and a notorious pirate from beyond the stars. Human civilisation may be at its pinnacle, a glistening spectacle of technology, yet both Ayeka and Ryoko have seen wonders from the heavens that by far surpass this city.

With the duo attached to him still surveying these new surroundings and taking it all in, Vegeta arrives at his first port of call. A small one story shop sandwiched in between towering skyscrapers, looking nearly as out of place as he does in this environment. As he walks towards the doorway of the shop, princess and pirate see the magnificent arrays of flowers and flora displayed in the window. He is taking them into a florist’s, the name of this establishment long since faded from the worn and aged wooden sign hanging above the door the trio walk through. Striking their nostrils is the heady aroma arising from the multitude of multi-coloured blooms. Once past the entranceway Vegeta disentangles himself from the females and heads to the counter and begins placing his order in a hushed tone. The stout and diminutive fellow, a full head shorter then the prince, in a simple brown overcoat and flat cap disappears off into the back to fetch Vegeta’s order. Turning around and leaning on the weathered and jaded ash counter a very slight smile plays across the face of the warrior, seeing the women so enraptured and engrossed by the natural beauty of the beauteous blossoms covering every wall of this cosy shop. Without his eyes leaving the charming womenfolk now turned to face his way his hand slips into his pocket and retrieves from it several green tinted bits of rectangular paper with many markings on it, the idea of paper based currency is not one common to many planets except for Earth, and places them down on the counter. Rustling out of the back room carrying the bouquet of flowers, the short and stocky shop keeper takes the money and the exchange is complete. Picking up his purchase he strides back towards the women, they seem incredibly jubilant at his approach brandishing flowers.

“Oh Lord Vegeta they are most splendid, they remind me just of the flowers that grew around the palace gardens back on Jurai.”

“Hey! He bought those for me not some snotty, jumped up despot. Isn’t that right Vegeta?” The smile falls from his face as the usual, inescapable squabbling is soon to escalate. The whole world does not revolve around either of them as much as they like to think so.

“These flowers are for none of you so stop with this incessant babbling.” That intrigues the women as well as silencing them. Only thinking about themselves and this special day of theirs they fail to see the bigger picture, but one other person exists whom he would offer flowers to and they dwell nearby. Looking the other way and pretending to be busy with his stock, the shop keeper sees it as in his best interest to ignore this little domestic and forget about these strange customers still in his store. Stuffing the bouquet’s base into one of the pockets on the back of his pair of jeans he once again extends his arms out to be taken by Ayeka Jurai and Ryoko the pirate. The two of them both are just a tad unsure when intertwining their arms with his, bedevilled by this mystery of the person Vegeta thinks deserves the romantic gift of flowers more so than either of them. As soon as they have made contact with him Vegeta continues on his way, not waiting to dispel the doubts building in their minds or answer the questions flying around their heads. Vegeta maintains a hard and fast pace, urgency lending itself to his strides as they round corner after corner turning this way and that till the building is in front of them.

Large and yellow is the hemispherical building they find themselves at, rings of windows dotting around the circumference and two prominent and jutting towers on the roof. Above the double doors is the name of the company headquarters they are at painted in big bold letters, it reads ‘Capsule Corporation’. What was once his house is not where he is looking, the steely eyes of the prince are locked firmly on the small gladed alcove hidden away in the far corners of the expansive gardens. The feet of the Saiyan do not move for a full minute, rooted to the spot as an inundation of memories flood themselves mercilessly before him. The best years of his life were here in this place, where he shed himself of solitude and took on the mantle of a husband and a father. A mere bitter reminiscence of happier times and days long since in the past. A boot falls falteringly in front of the other. The pronounced musculature of his Saiyan being is tense as it normally is when on the cusp of battle. Petite fingers squeeze his hand in a comforting manner. Her reassuring smile gives him the much needed boost of confidence to face what he must confront, Ayeka releases her hand from his and stands back to give him the room and privacy he obviously wants. Such a slight nod from Vegeta’s head directed at her as his feet start on the path across the verdant emerald lawn and Ryoko disentangling herself from him along the way looking bemused at what is happening.

Barred from their view by the pruned Leylandii hedges skirting around this most special area, Vegeta gently pulls out his offering from the back of his scruffy jeans and kneels down bowing his head. Purest white as virgin snow are the bunch of roses within his well used fists, their sharp thorns failing to pierce his hardened hide much unlike something else. Petals fall like snowflakes, drifting down gracefully before hitting the cold, hard stone and settling there for evermore to wither and decay. Smatterings of colour punctuate the immaculate bouquet, brightest cerulean and a golden centre. Forget-me-nots the people of Earth call them, Vegeta cares little for the symbolism behind these dying stalks but the colour reminded him of her hair and those deep and caring eyes. The flowers thud onto the grave. Stone stares back at him, words etched onto the tomb his only company. For the first time in a year he has returned to pay his respects to Bulma, a deep wrenching within bleeds afresh. Her parents have kept the gravesite well tended, no dirt or overgrowth to mar where she lays. The anniversary of her death came and passed him by during his own visit to the realm beyond life.

“ … I’m here … .” Words escape him as all his view is taken up by that of the burial place of who was once his wife before Death wrenched her from him. “ … I … I miss you. … We all do … .Not a day goes by where my thoughts don’t go out to you and the life we shared together.” Eagle like vision becomes clouded and blurred. “ Trunks …our son … he needs you, as do I. Why did it have to be this way? … I should have been the one taken if there were any justice left in this universe save for that fool Kakarot… He was the damn one who used up the antidote before you had a chance to synthesise more, we should have prepared. I should have thought about such things instead of being so blinded by my petty-mindedness, what good is my strength if I can’t even protect my wife from micro-organisms … You should have told us you were ill and suffering. You didn’t though, you kept it to yourself … why? Why, WHY?! WWWHHHHYYYYYY?!?!?!” Light erupts into the heavens, a flash of lightning bursting forth as his true form is unchained. Lengthened spikes of shining gold fall down his shoulders and face as grief tightens its pitiless grip. “ Never did you get to see me like this … to you I shall always be second best to Kakarot: the failure, the disappointment and you deserved better than that… I swear – I swear on your honour and memory that I will protect your planet and Trunks, my life is nothing if I cannot do these things for you. I will make sure he grows up to be a strong fighter like me … and as smart and amazing as you were.” His hands resting on the grave are careful not to shatter or break the fragile stone, rubbing the growing moisture blinding his sight he sees a glowing red imprint. Solid marble warped and deformed under the energy barely contained in his body. A palm print, his palm print beneath the clichéd epitaph. Standing up straight he recoils away before he can cause more damage, it seems the only thing he is good at is leaving a blazing path of destruction in his wake. Beauty is taken by flames until a smouldering pile of ashes is all that is left on top of her grave, falling petals turned to embers. Ragged breaths erupt out of his throat as he tries to control the raging emotions within him or else he will forfeit what minimal control he has over the ki radiating from being in the third state of super Saiyan.

Whooshing from air displacement and the swishing sound of movement in a dress, the two new women in his life have come to check on him. Neither expected the splendour of his super Saiyan 3 transformation but fear it they do not. Flashes of brilliance spark and flare dangerously as he illuminates the vicinity, they cease when he feels the touch of their hands on the beefed up muscles of his shoulders. Shrinking back down so he is shorter than Ryoko again, muscle mass decreasing and hair shortening and raising he turns to look at them as a man not a legend. After briefly explaining to Ryoko what she had observed to be the case for their visit to this place and witnessing all the clouds in the sky being burnt out of existence, Ayeka thought it was for the best if maybe just this once Vegeta was not alone. If he feels anything like she did during that long and hard month during his departure from the mortal coil then he surely will welcome his loneliness being abated, for Vegeta she will ignore Ryoko’s presence for the time being. A time to mourn and respect the dead is not one the Saiyan prince really wants people to see him at, attributing any show of emotion to physical weakness as it was drilled into him all those decades ago by his father. A father who is also deceased. All he has left is his son and Kakarot, debating it in his mind possibly the ones stood by him.

“Lady Ayeka, Ryoko. Th- …This is my wife Bulma, or her remains. As I can’t meet her in the afterlife this is all I will ever have of her, that and my son.” His fingers point like a gun towards the place of internment, his eyes following achingly with a desperate pining hidden in the frosty depths of his facial apertures. “I…I have said my piece now, there is no point in lingering here and- ”

“Lord Vegeta, I could say a prayer for her soul if you would like.” A kind offer, it is the least she can give to him in this state of bereavement. Ryoko vanishes, uncomfortable with this situation that cuts too close to the bone – for just over a day ago she was in the exact same shoes as her prince is now. Not wanting to be reminded of her inner pain and anguish she flees leaving him alone with Ayeka. Vegeta’s cold black stare loses its soft edge of tenderness and loving, thick set brows frown and veins stand out on his forehead.

“A prayer to whom, to the gods of Jurai? Some pathetic cult?! An impotent deity?! Who? Come on don’t be shy, for all you know I could have met them in my travels in the afterlife. Wait, no. No. THERE IS NO HIGHER BEING! Three times I have been to that fucking place and no gods or goddesses have I heard mentioned, let alone seen. What good is a prayer when there is no one to hear it let alone care about it? If such things as gods exist then they long ago forsook me to this damned existence.” Such an outburst of his built up frustration and wrath, religious views are an extremely bad topic for someone who only recently got out of eternal damnation. Suffering, torment, agony and excruciating mind breaking pain; flashes of how his fate differs so much from the goody two shoes Goku erupt through his brain. Aghast with the implications of what he is saying, Ayeka is struggling to think straight. All her life she had believed in that of the Great Goddess Tsunami who watches over all of Jurai granting her people power and prosperity in her benevolent guidance. In one fell swoop Vegeta tears down her unquestionable faith, how can one argue against someone who has seen the other side. Pants of aggravation carve from in-between his grating teeth. Gradually he calms himself and his breathing reverts back to silent inhalations, he didn’t mean to lose his cool like that but such things as Hell scar a man’s mind.

“I-I didn’t mean to offend you Lord Vegeta … i-it’s just … I was only trying to – ” Feeling as if she is in the wrong and needing to apologise to him, for he is the one lamenting over his deceased wife, she tries to think of anything to say. Whilst all the time trying to cope with the undeniable fact that, according to Vegeta, Tsunami does not exist and never did. Her mind is still in disarray and the Saiyan sees that, messing with someone’s views on the world or their beliefs is something he did not intend.

“Sorry Lady Ayeka, I got carried away. What would I know of gods when I see but the infernal half? You believe what you want to and it would please me if you prayed for Bulma.” A hackneyed apology. How the tables turned so quickly, she came to see if she could comfort a husband at his wife’s tombstone yet now it is he who has to offer the reassurance since he pulled the rug from beneath her feet. Dirt gets onto her impeccably polished shoes as she shifts her feet, her head bowed facing the grass and dainty fingers clasped together in front of her stomach. Glancing up at him her amethyst eyes move across to the slab marked with the hand of Vegeta, she nods silently and steps towards him and Bulma’s well maintained grave. Muttering the prayer under her breath she does what little she can and receives a warmish smile from Vegeta as thanks. The solemn atmosphere wanes as a slight hiss expulses air where Ryoko now stands holding something in her two hands. Replicating what Vegeta did she places them on the tombstone and stands back up wincing as she looks at her pricked fingers.

“Ryoko, those flowers are from my- Bulma’s parent’s garden are they not?” With clumps of damp soil still clinging to the uprooted flowers it is not difficult to decipher where she got them from. Still not used to any of the customs of this planet, like a small child she copied the behaviour of the others around her in an attempt to fit in. Those feline eyes of hers look at him expectantly to see if she did the right thing or not. Blood runs down her fingers and drips down onto the turf right next to the monument of Bulma’s lack of life. A simple curt nod directed at her and her efforts tell her she has done right, or moderately so – Vegeta is pleased that his wife’s grave has a tribute of flowers on them after he incinerated the first lot. “That is that. I do not want to talk about this for the rest of the day … now I … I am yours for the remainder of this day.” Beckoning them to his side again their faces are happy once more after the sombre affair. Vegeta methodically wipes away the liquid released from the sharp thorns of the roses from Ryoko’s hands, her skin is nowhere near as leathery or hardened by the holocausts he has lived through. The triad saunter off out of Capsule Corporation grounds and into the city.

“ … and so simply by carrying over the googolplex to the power nine I substituted the Xenium for the less stable Tiberium. Which I transmogrified at a molecular level to exponentially extend its half life to around 15.57 times its original value and reverse the polarity of its neutron flow. Incorporating these into the core central processing units of the picochips allowed the super computer to be able to handle ternary coding … you understand now?” Laying down with her arms propping up her lore filled head she observes the movements of visible liquid droplets suspended far up and accurately judging the chances of precipitation – this cloud will not rain she deduces. Stretched out on a plaid picnic blanket with Yamcha laying by her side gazing up at the azure welkin, semi rolling over so she now faces him. Washu can easily tell that what she said went completely over his head. In one ear and out the other he has no earthly idea what half of the words she said meant, he is listening to her but even Gohan would have trouble following her putting stuff in what she thinks are layman’s terms. Ryo-ohki splishes and splashes as she frolics in the shallows of the lake, she has really taken to Puar as a playmate as has Yamcha’s familiar. Such simple pleasures are what he has to offer her: his company and the majestic scenery of Earth. She scowls at his lack of attention or acknowledgement to the story of one of her first major accomplishments when still in her preliminary years in the prestigious Science Academy.

“So … Yamcha. Why didn’t you treat me to a lovely little day out in the city?” Turning to face her with a smile, Yamcha sighs to himself contently.

“Mainly for the fact I don’t have a penny to my name. You don’t strike me as a dinner and a movie kinda girl to be honest, what would you do in the city besides research? Anyway Vegeta did give me specific instructions not to let you loose in public.”

“What, he told you to keep an eye on little old me? What could I possibly do, someone as cute as me couldn’t possibly ever do anything bad.” The sham of her pretending to be just another harmless woman incapable of causing widespread panic or mayhem elicits great amusement and mirth as they both chuckle at this little charade. Loud meows fail to distract the lovebirds as Ryo-ohki and Puar instigate a frenzied bout of splashing the other, each trying to hold out against the feline nature of hating getting wet.

“You know Yamcha it would be a doddle for me to hack into the central server of a bank and redistribute some of the wealth if you get what I mean. Solve all your financial problems and then maybe we might be able to get someplace for just the two of us, sound good?” Not currently a highwayman, Yamcha has maybe a few qualms about stealing but her with that cheeky little grin and those alluring eyes he might have to take her up on that proposal. The wolf warrior is about to fall into her seductive claws. Their lips just about to graze against each other to seal the deal when a loud slam interrupts them, thwarting Washu’s plan.

Trunks clutches his head, the lavender hair of his displaced as he tore off the thing causing him blinding pain. A crumpled ring of silvery alloys clangs onto the floorboards from his hands, distorted out of shape with half the array of glimmering lights fixed to it shattered. Goten follows and two more of Washu’s inventions lay broken outside her lab. Staggering out of the doorway with the world spinning around them come the Saiyan-human hybrids, minds still awhirl after what was done to them. Goku’s child also has the additional hassle of having to carry Sasami for she appears to have blacked out in the wake of the unorthodox education, one of her ponytails has come undone and half her head of hair drags across the ground nearly tripping up the young lad. Hardly a few feet beyond the interdimensional portal and all their progress stops. Senses overloaded after the upload: vision unfocused, all balance gone and an irritating high pitched whining whistling through their attuned Saiyan ears. Knees begin to buckle and the younger of the two boys loses himself to the blackness of unconsciousness and spills Sasami onto the fall. Vegeta’s son does not notice his friend collapsing, he is incapable of perception, and so trips and falls over Goten. All three children that Yamcha and Washu were entrusted with our out cold.

Yamcha’s blood freezes, this does not bode well. His eyes dart worriedly to Washu who is still looking at him as if nothing has happened and she hasn’t done anything wrong. Sometimes he wishes that she had just a tad more empathy for others, or at the very least a better understanding of the consequences of what she does. Quick as the winds he is knelt beside the children, he lets out a loud sigh seeing that they are still breathing. Nudging them, calling their names; all of it is ineffective in waking them from this inflicted torpor.

“Oh leave them be, just need a little rest that’s all. It’s going to take a bit of time for new neural pathways to be forged and all of the great gift I have bequeathed them to be fully absorbed. C’mon you think I’d do something without running a full risk assessment first?” Washu’s nonchalant and dismissive behaviour concerning the comatose state of the infants as she leans against the doorway does not make Yamcha feel any better, or confident in answering her last question. Weakly he smiles at her before turning back to the children and heaving their unmoving bodies onto his shoulders. As always he has to do the physical work of lugging about the repercussions of whatever Washu does, with the children set down upon their beds he returns to his woman.

Woken up in the same fashion of so many men before him, Yamcha awakens with his air supply blocked off by the hair of his lover. Coughing and spluttering to clear his throat of the asphyxiating strands he sits up massaging his temples, his hand sliding down as he rubs the last remnants of sleep away. Flicking his own unruly mane out of his eyes and embracing the dawn he turns to get out of bed and …

“Morning Yamcha.” The high pitched voice of Puar startles him as the blue fuzz ball hefts up a circular device nearly larger than itself. Slamming his paw down on the single button the black screen of the radar bursts into life, lights blinking and beeping urgently.

“Morning Puar, you know what this means don’t ya? Next time you want to show me something though can you wait outside, all that beeping’s going to-”

“Going to wake me up? You are so kind and considerate aren’t you, but I’ve been awake for a while now.” Yamcha looks behind him to see Washu stirring and rolling over to face him and the hovering blue mammal, her yawning and unfocused eyes tell a different story from what she says though. Smiling he strokes her cheek then carefully throws the covers off of himself so that none of Washu’s modesty is hazarded.

“It’s ‘bout time, 27 days and we can go and get him back now. Better tell the others, I’m sure this will brighten up their day.” Rolling his shoulders as he stands and cricks his neck. As Yamcha leaves the room dressed and ready he grins and winks at Washu. With him out of sight she sets about picking up the many articles of her clothing strewn about the room, same as she has done for over two weeks now.

The first stop is the room closest to his, the closed door leading to where a certain space pirate has holed herself up in. Neither hide nor hair has been seen of her for many days and any attempt to open her door has been greeted by a ruckus of angry shouts and threats. This time though being a bearer of good news he taps gently on the hard wood of the door bracing himself for a slurry of insults and foul language. Instead the ominous silence he thought she had moved on from returns in full force. Sliding open the door just a crack Yamcha is nearly knocked out.

A faint whiff of the fumes released from Ryoko’s room is enough to make the corridor start to spin. Channelling ki through his body as protection from the toxic miasma she has created he enters through the great stench of alcohol. Empty and discarded bottles clink together as he tries to force the door so it is fully open, maybe one per cent of her floor can be seen through the wasteland of cans, flagons and flasks – not one of them containing a single drip of booze anymore. The pungent reek of her binge drinking completely masks that of her perspiration, being still worn out from the workout she has finished but seconds ago – the secret ones they still are in the dark about.

Hovering over the field of detritus and litter he goes over to where she is sat, his eyes starting to sting from the alcoholic atmosphere. Not facing him, sitting with her knees on her chest and head hung low, she ignores this intrusion into her self inflicted seclusion. Landing beside her in a small spot clear of all obstacles he waits for her to acknowledge his prescence. She just sits there, her fringe hiding her face and soft, shallow breaths breaking the silence. Looking around Yamcha flings open the curtains though not brightening the room, apparently Ryoko didn’t turn off her lights last night. Kneeling down by her he gently taps the dragon radar against one of her hands.

“Hi Ryoko, I think you’ll want to see this … do you more good then drinking yourself into oblivion.” The offhand insult catches her attention, glaring menacingly from under her hair she snatches the machine from his hand. Fumbling clumsily as she hurries to activate the locating device, her trembling fingers tripping over themselves with anticipation now she sees what he has brought to her – he has given to her an end to this nightmare. Dreading her hopes being dashed she hesitates in pressing the single button. It would be too cruel for this ray of happiness to be slapped away from her, she couldn’t bear the pain of emptiness again.

“The Dragonballs aren’t inert anymore Ryoko.” Beep, beep, beep. Seven yellow dots scattered far and wide are shown on the invention of Bulma’s, seven separate things that when brought together would grant her only and greatest heart’s desire. She doesn’t hear the door close behind him as he leaves her, nothing could distract her from what the pixels on the screen she holds in front of her face represent. Salty tears trickle down her face and drip onto the device obscuring and distorting the basic images shown on it. The dams holding back her long since dried up reservoirs of tears crack and spew out the secret reserves for these feelings of ecstasy. Enraptured with joy a large stupid smile grows across her face, the first one to appear in too long, and hugs this bringer of hope tightly to her chest that feels as if it will explode.

Next on Yamcha’s agenda is Ayeka, from what Sasami has told her about her sister’s unusual and introverted behaviour this ought to bring her back to her old self. Rapping his knuckles as he slides open the door he is so thankful that she hasn’t taken to drink like her rival. Sasami must have entered whilst he was telling Ryoko and as the kind and considerate younger sibling she has brought breakfast on a tray for Ayeka. Sat up in her bed having unquestionably just arisen from being asleep Ayeka’s glazed eyes drift over that of her sister and this strange man she has hardly seen and settle on the food set upon her lap – a simple round of buttered toast and a boiled egg.

The bright pink eyes of the younger girl look up at Yamcha from her sister’s side, her infectious smile and kind heart lighten this bleak bedroom. The one with a scarred face walks up to her and ruffles her hair affectionately as he turns his attention to the princess.

“Um Miss Ayeka, can you hear me? …” Yamcha’s question goes unanswered as Ayeka continues to stare blankly at the air in-between her and the plate with her breakfast. “… Well it’s time to go get your prince back, the dragon radar shows that we can revive him now. Ain’t that some good news.” He departs from the room having said his piece. Overjoyed by this prospect, Sasami is as giddy as a little schoolgirl smiling gaily up at her big sister. A slight trace of a smile births itself across Ayeka’s face as she blinks her eyes into focus. Now with her will to go on restored she looks down at her little sister and embraces her in a warm hug.

Heading downstairs Yamcha finds waiting for him at the bottom one person who already knows, the only person here who has a true claim to living in this house. Wearing the Saiyan raiment like his father does and which he had on during that fateful visit to that unknown planet which cost this lad dearly. Both warriors nod at each other, understanding what they now have to do – a simple chore that also reaps great rewards. Impatiently waiting for a dragon radar so that they can initiate their mission the two warm up their bodies and muscles with some simple stretches to pass the time. The rising agitation of Trunks during this delay is clearly visible, children are never the best at waiting and under these circumstances it’s anyone’s guess what he might do.

Time ticks by agonisingly slow in its never ending march onwards, a quarter of an hour passes and still there is no sign of the additional dragon radars. The thin threads of patience tying Trunks to rational behaviour have been all but severed, frayed to their limits by this pointless lingering and loitering. Fidgeting on the spot restlessly, fingers drumming against folded arms, teeth grinding and feet tapping urgently on the weathered floorboards. Second by second the fact that an uncontrollable Saiyan might swiftly become a reality looms over Yamcha.

Saved from this by Washu as she leaves her laboratory carrying with her 3 of the spare radars she made all those days ago. 2 are in her hands by the time she has taken a few steps into the hallway, unperturbed by Trunks snatching one at the supersonic speeds he is capable of she continues towards Yamcha as she hands him the penultimate device. With this piece of technology in his grasp he turns to set off on his quest to see that the brash youth is already outside ready to take off into the bright blue yonder.

“Trunks, just wait there a sec. C’mon it’d be better if we did this as a group besides you can’t carry all seven on your own.”

“Yeah, yeah I hear you and guess what? I don’t care so smell you guys later I’m off to bring back my dad on my own.” Jetting into the sky the boy begins to voyage across the globe leaving just a vapour trail dissipating into the air behind him.

“Well he definitely is his father’s son that’s for damn sure, s’pose there’s no need for this anymore… Hi again Ryoko and Ayeka” Returning the gadget to its creator his hands linger on hers till he spots the three other residents coming down the stairs. Plain to see what kept them so long, no matter how quick they try and hurry, prettying themselves up as they have done still takes some time. Bar Sasami the two women have gone to particular effort over their appearance, wanting to appear their best before this miraculous return of Vegeta.

Ayeka who for so long has not cared about such petty and vain things as the way she looks has transformed herself back into the glistening jewel of Jurai. The shine and volume returned to her sleek and glossy hair, its vibrant colour reawakened and concealing the royal headdress she has retaken to adorning her forehead with. Life and colour back in her face complemented with some light make-up but nothing as ravishing as the lavishly ornate gown made of the finest materials decorating her slim figure. Delicate hand-spun satin conjoining the elbows of the flowing sleeves to the elaborate bodice of many colours in a cape of pure white. Broaches of the highest quality gold fashioned in the shapes of the leaves of Juraian trees affix vivid reds and greens encircling the navy blue collar and skirt. Lilac spaulders and a sea blue sash complete this most regal of outfits.

Ryoko as always has taken a different approach to things compared to the prim and proper blue blood. A very dark turquoise and also very short long sleeved dress lined with a hem of pink. A sharp and shockingly coloured bright green bow tie and a charcoal girdle is all that ties together the front of her dress. Unashamedly she walks around showing off a fair bit of her cleavage and her lithe, comely legs covered only by the front of the skirt and tailcoat with her own tail peeping out from underneath. Gracing the face of the tomboy for the first time are subtle hints at attempts of using makeup, cosmetics she has ‘borrowed’ from Ayeka without her permission or knowledge. Sweeping eyelashes defined and emphasised with mascara, feline eyes outlined and highlighted and her lips rouged.

Padding towards the desert raider is Sasami in her usual garb of natural blues and greens. Yamcha has smartly kept his eyes away from the procession of women down the stairs and instead continues to look at the only woman in the room his usually nomadic eyes find true beauty in. The first thing he knows of the juvenile moving towards him is the soft tug at his yellow jeans, looking down at the small girl focusing her wide pink eyes on his face.

“Ok Mister it’s about time you stopped avoiding me and answered my question.”

“Huh? What question Sasami and don’t think I’ve been avoiding you it’s just that I’ve been …preoccupied.” The puzzled expression on Yamcha’s face isn’t fooling anybody, somehow acting skills aren’t something he has picked up on his travels across the globe so even a nine year old girl can see through his lies.

“Well that doesn’t matter, you’re here now so … when are you and Washu gonna get married?” Her cheery smile once again freezing the very soul of Yamcha. Keeping his hands in Washu’s turns into a grave mistake, all routes of escape are gone as he feels her dainty fingers grip his like a vice. If Sasami was trying to finish this Z-warrior off good and proper she is succeeding with flying colours, nervous sweat drips down his face drained of colour. Washu is enjoying this way too much for him to be comfortable, clasping his sweaty palms tighter as she leans in with a coy blush on her face.

“Oh Yamcha I had no idea you felt that way about me, it’s all so sudden. Well, give a girl an answer then.” Dread knits itself into his bones, a cold shiver running up and down his spine. He tries to take a step back but her hold on him prevents him from doing so unless he unleashes his strength and probably break her arms in the process.

“N-now w-what uuh you well, it’s you see umm. I-I haven’t even proposed yet and – ”

“Yet? So you were actually planning to then?” He walked straight into that one. The universe’s most intelligent woman was not going to let that slip of the tongue escape her and the pressure on him now to try and think of a good, or at least adequate, response that won’t dig the hole he is standing in any deeper is crushing down on his brain. BEEP!

“Hey wouldya look at that Trunks has all the dragonballs and is on his way back.” Getting himself clean out of the frying pan and dodging the fire he has shifted all attention off of him onto the more pressing matters that they have gathered for. Yamcha just knows this will come back to bite him later and once Washu sets her sights on something she won’t drop it, he’ll have to prepare for this before it takes him by surprise again. Although all four females are looking out of the front door at where they expect the second child of Saiyan and human coupling to land his hands are still kept in his lover’s clutches.

Right on cue Trunks touches down on the turf with seven hand-sized crystalline gemstones of a fiery colouration dropping down onto the grass still wet with the morning’s dew. Bouncing off of the soft loam and coming to rest in a neat cluster at the kid’s feet the life within the dragonballs begins to awaken. Twinkling from the epicentre of each mystical orb a pinprick of light bursts forth illuminating the objects created by Dende. Pulsating in synch, the septet awaits for one to conjure forth the beast held within. Stood before these glowing spheres Trunks stands without a clue what to do now, he has never seen Shenron or been around when a wish has been granted. Infuriated by his own confusion and inability to rescue his own father from Abaddon the boy wracks his mind over every tale he has been told concerning the immemorial dragon Shenron.

Wriggling forth out of Washu’s hands Yamcha leads the group outside into the fresh air, walking briskly to retain his freedom. He puts his weathered hand on the shoulder of the hybrid son.

“It’s Ok, I got this. Eternal dragon by your name I summon you forth, SHENRON!” As soon as the command is uttered from Yamcha the throbbing incandescence of the magical globes hastens. All light is blotted out from the Sun as blackness envelopes the sky, a horizon of darkness lit up by the seven motes flashing at the lakeside. The rhythm of the shining dragonballs becomes a steady glow as bright orange sparks jet off from it. One massive lightning bolt of gold blasts off straight into the heavens tearing the all encompassing unnatural night asunder in a blaze of brilliance. The yellow fulmination continues to jet out of the seven gathered items taking up more and more of the sky as it reaches the higher altitudes of the troposphere, at its zenith four prongs jut out of its side and the head of the mass of energy culminates into a large horned snout.

The radiant luminescence dies down as the thing taking up the heavens takes on form, a massive serpentine bulk of green scales and a thick cream underbelly hide. Miles of ridges running along its great expansive river-like back, the antlers of an enormous stag and whiskers of an equally monstrously large catfish spring into existence on the rapidly solidifying being of Shenron. Large jaws full of serrated pearly whites loom down at the one who dares to conjure it from its interrupted slumber. Red eyes centre on the six humanoids and the two tasty morsels hissing insistently at the god-like reptile, Ryo-ohki is definitely not pleased with this large terrifying creature as it raises its hackles.

“Speak your wish and it shall be granted.” A voice as deep as the roots of a mountain thunder out this same line it has said countless times before. Mixtures of awe, fear and trepidation spread through the members of the fairer sex seeing this colossal lizard gazing down at them as if they were a bunch of meagre insects scurrying around at its feet. One of the little people below the hovering dragon steps up towards it.

“Eternal dragon we wish for our companion Vegeta the Prince of Saiyans to be brought back to life.”

“The one called Vegeta has already been resurrected by me when he died on Namek, it is – was beyond my power to do so …. It appears my creator has been busy upgrading my powers. Your wish has been granted.” Optical orbs the size of small houses gleam a warm lambent ruby red as the magic happens. The colour from Shenron’s eyes fades as once again its corporeal form transmutes into pure energy piercing the sky taking with it the seven artefacts that are responsible for its existence. Surging into the air as lightning, the dragon coalesces into a far off speck of light nearly out of orbit as it scatters the dragonballs far and wide to random positions across the whole planet. Reverting back to the natural hue of blue the celestial sphere and Sun return to the vista above the lake. Tranquillity resumes, birds in the forests begin to take up their chorus again and the world goes back to the way it was.

Yamcha walks back towards the rest of the group with his job now done and pleased that Dende has finally got the Earth’s dragon closer to the level of power as Porunga. He seems the only one happy though. The lack of Vegeta stood before them has sent the women frantically looking about to see where he is, their histrionics seem to be infecting Trunks as well. Yamcha should have explained how Shenron works before he did this and avoided this whole kerfuffle but no-one’s perfect.

“Sh calm down. Look when someone is wished back they don’t just magically appear next to us, they either come back to life where they died or where their souls currently are in the Other world. He has Instant Transmission so -” A great waft of brimstone and sulphur enshrouds them all, for a brief instant the sounds of the infinite damned legions screech into the realm of the living. Ryoko and Ayeka search about for the source of these perceivable clues that the one they have been waiting for has been spat out of Hell, no matter where they look neither can pinpoint where Vegeta has come into being. That is until a faintly perceptible whistling sound can be heard getting louder and louder with each passing moment.

Plummeting like a stone the wind rips at the blue training gear around the Saiyan. Roaring fills his ears as he accelerates towards the ground barely conscious, just managing to turn himself whilst freefalling the squinted eyes of Vegeta have trouble focusing on this very large object rapidly coming to greet him. In one side and out the other the mammoth mountain does naught to slow down his arrival to Earth, crashing through the miles of rock and veins of dense metals secreted in its depths he pops out covered in debris and detritus as he completes the final descent. Plunging into the waters before his house and emptying the lake of most of its contents in an almighty splash, Vegeta is back.

Gobsmacked by such a dramatic reinstatement to life both Ryoko and Ayeka run up to the agitated water’s edge peering into the murky depths of stirred up silt for a sign of their prince. A whoosh of disturbed air and a perfectly dry Vegeta is crouched on his hands and knees panting heavily, eyes wide and staring wildly at the tufts of grass between his fingers. Clenching the fists of his new body he tears a divot under each hand, dropping the sod as he slowly rises to his feet. Glancing about at the familiar surroundings and faces fixed on him his cold eyes settle on one individual. Still reeling from the agony and torture that was existence in the infernal plane his mind grasps at the concept of being alive again and what must have occurred. Walking towards this one person, this sole reason he was able to keep his sanity in the fiery pits, the faces of the two women light up enraptured by his prescence. Getting closer to the two women he outstretches one of his Herculean arms.

“Is it honestly too much to ask for one of you to have raised your power levels so I could accurately Instant Transmission. Thanks, thanks a lot for catching me. What, were you afraid I’d gone soft or something when dead or needed to be rammed through a mountain for my own wellbeing? … It’s good to be back my son.” His large arm hugs his child close to him, pulling the son he treasures into a constricting bear hug. Trunks doesn’t complain or struggle in this embrace even though his ribs are on the verge of cracking, the gladness of having his father back with him numbs the lad to the pain. Releasing Trunks from his iron grip, Vegeta smiles warmly at his offspring and tussles his lavender hair before ending this brief reunion.

Somersaulting high and landing far away from the duo of women who tried to blindside him, Vegeta scowls. Ryoko flying low and skimming the ground and Ayeka sprinting as fast as is physically possible in her dress, both with eyes moist from tears of joy at seeing Vegeta back in the flesh and no longer just a haunting memory keeping them awake day and night. Screeching to a halt and turning to face Vegeta with a look of befuddlement at his avoidance of them. Slower this time they walk hesitantly towards him only to have a knife thrust in their open hearts. Ryoko’s and Ayeka’s movements cease as they stand stock still staring at a white gloved hand pointed palm first aggressively towards them.

“No.” The knife tears deeper… “Stop, come no closer.” … and twists, ripping them apart from the core in their most vulnerable state. “ I have no need of your stupid behaviour … leave me be. … You think after literally going through hell I’d honestly be in the mood for such fools as you.” The euphoria of life anew has not had enough time to break through the calloused curtain of ice frozen around his heart and mind after a month of knowing nothing but the greatest pains devised nonstop. Uncaringly he ignores them and the abject hurt he has caused them, unable to deal with them at this point in time. As if he has done nothing wrong he faces the last pair of people outside his house who are stood close to each other. Priding himself on his great mind and cunning it embarrassingly takes his brain ages for the cogs to start to turn and churn out an answer. The linked arms, her nuzzling close to him and being in adult form can only mean one thing.

“Some good news then, seems you’re going to rid me of a bothersome guest. Still a few tricks left in the old dog then or did you fall victim to that whole nurse routine she does?” Raising an eyebrow curiously at this most unlikely of pairings, the owner of the household questions the beauty and the brains and Yamcha.

“Hey give me some credit Vegeta and you’re older than me so I don’t know who you’re calling an old dog. She has a lot more than just that nurse’s costume too I can tell ya.”

“I did not need to know that … anyway I’m off to train so don’t disturb me. A whole goddamn month wasted and I bet that clown Kakarot’s overtaken me again.” Striding off purposefully into his house to sate his hunger for training and self improvement totally ignoring everyone who gathered for his resurrection. With the show over and nothing to entertain them, the kids and feline mammals swiftly follow the man of the house as if everything were normal and fine. A faint heartbroken sigh escapes from the two women stood forlornly looking at the doorway which the Saiyan prince has just rounded and left their sight.

“Hey Washu … umm y’know that now Vegeta’s back what happens now? I mean I was only here ‘cos he kicked the bucket and someone had to look out for Trunks but he’s back now so … I s’pose I’ll … I’ll have to leave now.” It pains him to say these words, he has truly enjoyed his time with Washu but Yamcha knows that everything has its time and everything must come to an end. Looking nearly as distraught as the melancholy statues gazing sorrowfully at the threshold to the dwelling, Washu fixes her pleading eyes on this man who has become so much more than just a guinea pig to her.

“No! Don’t leave me! Y-you don’t have to go Yamcha, please?”

“C’mon don’t say it like that, it’s not like I want to. What’d you want me to do? I doubt Vegeta’s gonna let me stay with the amount of people already living here.”

“But… but you could move in with me and live in my lab-”

“You really think that’ll work? I mean your lab is still technically in his house …” Trying to mull it over in his mind all his freewill flies away from him as Washu unleashes the tearful puppy eyes on him, just the sight of it and he knows he will have to do her will. “… But Ok, I’ll go and give it a shot and talk to him. See if we can settle this man to man.” Sauntering off casually into the house, Yamcha tries to waste some time until he has to talk to Vegeta after seeing the kind of mood he is in when he spoke to the two women he is walking past. Washu sees what he is doing and can’t blame him, she has him wrapped around her little finger but he still has a sense of self preservation. Smiling in her confidence that her man will sort things out, she inspects the two stationary women who haven’t moved for some time now. The extremely scientific test of waving her hand in front of their faces concludes her experiment and proves her initial hypothesis that neither are paying any attention to external stimuli and have completely retreated within themselves leaving just empty, broken shells. Shrugging nonchalantly, Washu takes a leaf out of Vegeta’s book and leaves them to their own devices. She’s got more important things to worry about than those two such as completing tests on those few miniscule samples of Grah scraped off of the armour she manufactured, a few cells is all that Washu has to work on but the analysis is taking a lot longer than expected.

Observing Vegeta through the porthole in the thick metal door leading to the training room, Yamcha musters his courage and calms his beating heart as he attempts the impossible and slides open the door. His boots thud heavily into the tiles, crossing into the training room puts him into the artificial gravity well of the main console and his body weight jumps up to 500 times its natural level. Lumbering the few metres over to the prince of Saiyans practising the pinnacle of martial arts, Yamcha waits for Vegeta to pay attention to him or for the endorphins of exercise to make his task easier. Flowing like water, Vegeta’s movements are completely unhindered as he ignores the desert warrior as Yamcha strains himself just trying to stay stood up. Clearing his throat several times yields no results for Yamcha so he decides on a drastic course of action.

Catching the fist flying towards the back of his head before ducking, pivoting and diving under the legs of Yamcha to flip him hard onto his back, Vegeta finally acknowledges the other in this room.

“You still here? Thought you were going to take Washu and fly out of here so what’s with this lousy attempt at striking me.” Offering his hand to help up Yamcha Vegeta grins maliciously as he crushes the fingers of Yamcha with his tightening grip. In one fell swoop he flings Yamcha across the room and into the wall.

“Yeah well I came to talk to you about just that. Y’see she kinda asked me to move in with her.” Getting back up onto his feet he glances at the cold pieces of flint that are Vegeta’s eyes.

“I wasn’t aware that Washu owned any property on this planet or any other. I thought she just had that damn dimension thing … oh no, you’ve got some balls to come in here and ask that of me. Well tell her she can move her laboratory over to a doorway wherever you live, end of.” Hefty blows strike Yamcha in the stomach and chest just too quick for him to do anything about it but grin and bear it. Dropping to his knees as the onslaught finishes, Yamcha does not give up.

“She can do that? Always thought that thing was permanent… anyway more to the point I’ve gone back to living in my old desert hideout and caves don’t tend to have doors in them.”

“Ha! A cave, whatever happened to all that money from being the best player in some stupid sport? Did you waste it all?” The sole of pointed boots press down on the bandit’s back pressing him back down to the floor unable to get up.

“No … it’s not that. I might have gone and cocked up one of my games that’s all. I swung the bat too hard and you can guess what happened next. A whole neighbourhood destroyed and dozens of people injured and me up to my neck in lawsuits.” Grabbed by the front of his vest and heaved back onto his feet he sees a smile playing across Vegeta’s face.

“So now that makes two of us who have got a bit carried away whilst in a spectator sport, I killed not injured though. Hmm, pounding you was just the therapy I needed. I’m listening so now’s your chance, persuade me.”

“Uh I have nothing to offer that you would want. How about if I leave then Washu would follow and probably cause a great amount of chaos if she were unleashed in a public environment.”

“I suppose it would be far too cruel to let Washu loose on this world so it will be your job to keep her in line, good luck you’ll need it. You owe me for this so if I ask something of you I expect you to obey without question.” Circulation to Yamcha’s head is cut off from the chokehold of Vegeta giving him no chance to thank him or anything. Vegeta catapults him back through the still open door to the training room to skid face first along the floorboards of the living room as he slams shut the door to his sanctum. Bruised but mainly uninjured in the most part the sound of footsteps approaching the prone Z-warrior resting on the floor causes him to look up to see the reason he went in to converse with Vegeta.

He picks himself up to face her as she anxiously inspects his body to see the extent of his injuries. He brushes away her worries when he explains that he did what she asked and grins at her as her face erupts with glee into a bewitching smile. Overjoyed she follows him upstairs to watch him move his stuff, as he requires no aid, and guide him through her labyrinth. He would be hopelessly lost without her, she will have so much fun now he is trapped with her in the place only she knows. A place of shadows and machinery, contraptions and guile, pleasure and pain but more importantly somewhere with only one single exit that she can make disappear.

High noon and the Sun drifts high in the sky. These several hours of laborious training has done wonders for Vegeta, allowing him to relearn his body and its innermost workings and functions putting him back on top form. Not truly fatigued or weary yet he still stops his training. Something is gnawing away at the back of his brain, a niggling feeling that something is wrong but he can’t place his finger on it. He has been uninterrupted for hours now and hasn’t heard a peep out of the others inhabiting his home, not one raised voice or argument. No bickering or quarrels distracting him. He can’t for the life of him think why this is troubling him or why he expected these to break the silence he cherishes.

Two faces pop into his head. Faces that look as though all the happiness in the world has been drained from them and it all becomes crystal clear to him. Ryoko and Ayeka, or more specifically the harsh words he said to them, are what’s stopping him from continuing training. Guilt rarely frequents his mind, even if he killed someone in cold blood he would feel nothing but with this it has sown its seeds deep and ignoring it will only cause these feelings to germinate and fester. Switching the machine taking up the centre of the room off as he leaves to check on the repercussions of his rash actions influenced by the tendrils of death that had not fully left him.

Still stood where he left them, Vegeta stands in front of the two women he has wronged. No reaction, no random hugs or fights erupting between the two they just stay perfectly still with glazed eyes staring into oblivion. Like husks with the souls removed from them they stand with shoulders slumped and an air of depression seeping out from them. Vexed by this catatonic state he steps right up close to them sure that if he caused this then he must also be the cure. Pacing around them several times, wafting his hand in front of their faces and even poking them lightly still does nothing. His fist stops less than a millimetre from the bridge of Ryoko’s nose and she doesn’t even flinch or blink much to his surprise. Raising his eyebrows as he tries to figure out an answer to this quandary and with a flick of his wrist several gallons of fresh water from the lake hurl themselves at the motionless rivals.

Success, a freezing cold dousing snaps them out of unresponsiveness and drenches both to the bone. Ayeka coughs and splutters between shivers with her precious gown sticking to her body. Wiping the lake’s waters out of her eyes with her sleeve she sees Vegeta looking curiously at her and the other woman stood by her side. The intense eyes of his bore through her. Not meaning to do anything in particular but to ascertain what they were doing and why, Vegeta unwittingly continues to unnerve her already fragile being until it becomes too much for her in this delicate state. Breaking his stare and running she flees back into the house with the sounds of sobbing following her. Following her with his piercing eyes, Vegeta makes a movement to go and chase after her until he hears a soft sound from behind him.

Legs buckling as her whole body gives way, Ryoko falls to her knees. Shoulders trembling and head bowed hiding her face. A glistening drop falls and wets her lap quickly followed by many more. This is not going how Vegeta semi-planned it to, torn between which of these two women to attempt and comfort first he on instinct goes for the one closer to him. Setting his gloves alight with ki so they fall off of his hands in fluttering embers, Vegeta bends down so he is at her level and lifts her chin up so he can see her face. The tears running freely from her closed eyes ruin the light makeup she has so carefully applied yet he doesn’t care about things like this. Ryoko tries to pull her head out of his light grasp but he simply puts his other hand on her cheek and wipes away her salty tears and smudging her mascara even more in the process. The feel of his rough skin on her face makes her open her eyes at this unexpected touching.

“I’m the one who suffered in the infernal abyss of Hell so what’s the matter with you and Ayeka. It can’t have been any worse than what I – ”

“You rejected me! I- I waited for you a-and-and then you just say no… how could you?! Do I mean so little to you … y-you don’t know how I felt when you abandoned me.” Her intense glare shocks him as much as the words shouted at him. A fresh batch of tears run over his ungloved fingers.

“Abandoned? Death didn’t leave me much say in the matter, you think I wanted to die and not be with my son. Stop trying to make it sound as if you were worse off than me, I have been through things no mortal should ever suffer … and that was just you and Ayeka arguing constantly.” The little jest of his offends her, yanking her head out of his hands she turns around to face away from him. Shunning Vegeta with her back to him she tries to force herself to be angry with him, that she could deal with but not this. Simply walking around so he is back in front of her Vegeta stands.

“ I will not be ignored by some low rank would-be pirate who smells like a brewery, now stop with this idiocy. You were sad that I died, I understand, I’ve lost my wife and gone through that but I’m back now so I don’t see why you’re behaving like this.” Ryoko stands up slowly, her eyes full of the wrath she has been striving for to end her heartache.

“You bastard! All you ever do is think of yourself! Just because I’m not some repressed megalomaniac like you doesn’t make me an idiot. You really want to know why I’m acting the way I am why don’t you just go and read my mind again because you’re too stupid to work it out yourself. … Did you forget what you said just before you died?”

“What I said? I had most of my brain blown to pieces and you expect me to remember, last thing I recall was that thing on top of me stabbing my ruined body over and over again and me showing it what happens when it dares to mess with Saiyans. You should pay no heed to whatever I might have said beyond that point, they were just the ramblings of a dead man.”

“You … you don’t remember? HOW CAN YOU NOT REMEMBER?! But … you said … . Heh, you’re right you didn’t say anything, y’know why? Because you’re a coward!” He has never been called those words directly to his face. He won’t stand for this insubordination. Seizing her by the collar and bow tie of her dress Vegeta yanks her towards him so that his forehead is touching hers – he did have to drag her down a few inches or else his forehead would only come up to her nose.

“I have laid down my life to save you and you repay me by accusing me of cowardice, go on say it again to my face.”

“You think I’m scared of you, well I’m not! You are a coward. Maybe not when it comes to battle but whenever someone tries to get close to you all you seem to do is run away like a little girl. Pushing people away and keeping them at a distance ‘cos you’re scared.” Vegeta lets go of her and walks away back towards his house. Calm strides carry him away from Ryoko who still stares at him seething that he dare just leave her mid-conversation.

“See there you go again, tail between your legs. Oh wait you don’t have one, HA! You-.”

“You are right Ryoko.” A scarred hand stretches out towards her, not in the aggressive manner of earlier but in the extension of asking for reconciliation. “Kakarot has always had an open heart towards all, sickening as it is, it’s still something that I am not capable of. I was raised to never let anyone get close, taught that emotions are for the weak and only led to pain and death. Even with Bulma I never treated her the way she deserved and she was the only woman I had ever had feelings for, I failed her as a husband and as a man in the end. I cannot change who I am and you have to accept that Ryoko.” His hand hangs there as his cold demeanour thaws slightly. She is right in everything she has said and it would be arrogant to ignore, a good warrior learns his flaws or weaknesses and adapts himself around them.

“Huh V-Vegeta? Wh-Wha? I don’t- ” Extinguished are her fires of rage, gone and forgotten now she sees him there conceding to her. Vegeta’s softening expression calls to her yearning heart.

“I apologise, I was out of line for what I said to you earlier and … I do remember those words I uttered with my dying breath.” Neither break eye contact as he says this, his fairly emotionless stare meeting the longing look she can’t hide. Colour graces her cheeks once again as she takes small steps full of doubt as her mind wavers. Ryoko traverses the gulf that he has bridged between the two of them to accept his offered hand, reaching her own hand out as her heart flutters and races. Just as her fingers skim against his the hand of Vegeta disappears. For a split-second she fears the worst, that he has lured her into a trap and he betrayed her feelings for him, but they are dispelled as his mighty arms wrap around her slender waist. Instantly Ryoko blushes an extremely dark shade of red, her face glowing in embarrassment from the extreme intimacy of this unanticipated act from Vegeta.

A few seconds and he releases her and watches her slowly walk off still in a daze and holding her rosy cheeks. He gave just enough to satisfy her for a while and no more, the sharp mind of Vegeta always has a plan, not to say some part of him did not enjoy the hug. Back in his house part two of the problem presents itself, Ayeka at the top of the stairs obviously having witnessed all that passed between him and Ryoko. The manicured fingers of the princess dig into the banister as they tremble, her red and bloodshot eyes the only sign of her weeping as she is still dripping wet from the drenching. She sees him looking at her with a face as easy to read as a professional poker player. Storming out of his view and traipsing water all over Vegeta’s house she pays no attention to where she is walking, only needing to be far away .

Vision blurred and not concentrating on her surroundings she walks straight into an immovable object, a large limb at chest level barring her progress onwards. Heat diffuses through the muscular limb and into her now bone dry clothing. It doesn’t take someone of Washu’s intellect to decipher who this arm belongs to and so Ayeka recoils from it. Stumbling backwards awkwardly into the sturdy bulk of the newly positioned Vegeta. Gripping one of her arms he spins her around to face him, a look of scorn and disdain warping her pretty face.

“Jealousy does not become you, you heard what I said to Ryoko and the same applies to you. I came to apologise and ask your pardon for what I did earlier.” Taking a long inhalation through his nostrils he sniffs the air around her. “Try as you might with this façade your body betrays you, I can smell the hormones and pheromones rolling off you.” Ayeka’s stern eyes harden into a scowl.

“Humph, what makes you think I’ll accept your apology because I will not. Talking to me as if I am a common guttersnipe you seem to forget that I am a – ”

“A princess of Jurai, yes I know as is Sasami. You are not of higher standing than me, I’m Prince Vegeta.”

“Your royal blood is a joke. Royalty is supposed to represent and help the people, bit hard to do when there is only one other of your species and he doesn’t and will never see you as his ruler.” She will not relent in this rancorous grudge she is holding against him. A laugh escapes from Vegeta’s smirking lips as he steps closer towards her, something dark passes behind his eyes as they draw level with hers.

“Kakarot will bend his knees to me before I smite him down and what’s so good about who you rule. Me and that clown are the elite, the strongest beings in existence and unrivalled in our might. When I was a mere infant I obliterated several of your empire’s planets with ease, any wise ruler would have anticipated or prepared for such an eventuality and set up orbital defences to shoot down our pods before we landed. Truth is your father did nothing to protect those civilians, not one single thing in the two years we were in that sector of the galaxy.” That riposte takes all the gusting winds out of Ayeka’s sails. Taken aback by such a unthinkable truth that her father, the Emperor of Jurai, allowed citizens of the empire to die does not sit easily with her. Disturbed by these words and the wicked look on Vegeta’s face she shuffles backwards away from him only to have him casually take two strides towards her.

“That’s all in the past now, if I destroy any more planets it will not be because I am following commands but if I have no alternative left in whatever future battles I am sure to get into. Will you stop acting as cold as my corpse was a few hours ago if I hug you like I did Ryoko, is that it?”

“Ye –NO! No! You think I’m that weak willed? What makes you think I’d be interested in anything of the sort? If that’s – ” A small piece of paper is held up before her, a square image that stops her from talking as her words catch in her throat.

“Do I detect that you didn’t want me to find that you had a picture of me hidden under your pillow? Hmm what was that you were saying, you seem to have gone all quiet all of a sudden.”

“H-how did you get that? You’ve been in my room! I never said you could enter my room so give it back!”

“This is my house I go where I like and on the subject I never said you could steal one of my wife’s pictures. Here, you can have it back … and keep all those others you have stashed away in that secret box under your bed.” Vegeta hands over the photograph to the princess still reeling that he knows about her secret hiding place where she also keeps her diary among other things. Ayeka stutters, her tongue tripping over itself, not sure whether to thank him or be outraged that he has gone and invaded her privacy. All her thoughts are silenced as he springs on her a surprise hug dealing with her in the same way he did with Ryoko.

As awkward as the proud warrior is when trying this fairly simple task it achieves its goal, her protests and ill feelings towards him are calmed. He thinks to himself that it is all far too easy as he lets go of the blushing maiden and walks back down the stairs as she slowly recovers from the embrace. A smug sense of satisfaction at being able to deal with those two with no hassle at all makes him feel so much better about being alive again. Slumped down at the bottom of the stairs by the door leading to a laboratory sits Yamcha, it’s been only a few hours and he is already in the doghouse. Vegeta stands by this fellow warrior who sheepishly looks up at him.

“That did not last long at all, what the hell could you have done already?”

“It’s not my fault honestly. All I did was maybe have a little accident and a few unimportant things went and broke.” Yamcha hops onto his bare feet.

“Were these things Washu’s bones by any chance because if you were going to do that tell me next time.”

“Oh no it wasn’t anything like that. She asked me to power-up … yeah she should have thought about what happens when we do stuff like that. About half of her lab now has lost power, I think it was half ‘cos I have no idea ‘bout that weird place.” They share a knowing mischievous grin with each other as Vegeta sets off back to the training room with Yamcha tagging along. Although he normally insists on solitude whilst training the Saiyan did enjoy pummelling him earlier so allows him to accompany him.

“So Yamcha you up for a rematch, I hope during my death you didn’t let Trunks shirk in his training.”

“Count me in for some training, got to waste some time before it’s safe to go back in there and about Trunks … me and him didn’t exactly see eye to eye most days and with him being able to go super Saiyan I couldn’t force him to go and train or do anything for that matter.” Vegeta nods, he understands the predicament that Yamcha was in and he can’t think of a punishment more fitting then what the problem is, being weaker than a child. The men who had enjoyed the life of bachelors before these space farers arrived agree between themselves that they will not bother with a simulation and just put the gravity up to 100G, Vegeta also promises not to transform which doesn’t do much to improve Yamcha’s odds.

“Ok, c’mon then. I’m betting on 5 minutes.” Yamcha jogs on the spot, warming up his muscles and psyching himself up for the bout.

“Don’t make me laugh, you’ll be lucky to last one. Go!” The air hums as every particle in the sealed room is disrupted countless times by the fighters racing around faster than photons. Half a minute passes as Yamcha tries fruitlessly to back up his boast. Giving it his all still leaves him leagues behind the agile prince who nimbly evades each failed attack and bides his time. Another twenty seconds and the effect of fighting in the high gravity field taxes Yamcha’s endurances. The time to strike is at hand. With the bandit slightly off balance mid-sprint and one arm extended at the long since vacated spot where he aimed a punch, Vegeta draws back his fist and slams it hard into the exposed throat of Yamcha.

Dropping like a stone onto his knees, grasping at his crippled throat and trying to inhale through his compacted and crushed trachea Yamcha’s vision dims and objects dance in his field of view out of focus. Lumps of shattered cartilage move beneath his fingers as thin wisps of oxygen are drawn into his lungs, working his windpipe into a shape that allows for respiration to occur. Standing confidently above the one on the verge of defeat a hearty chuckle echoes through the room from Vegeta. Yamcha lashes out a frantic kick in a last-ditch effort to retain some dignity from this fight and again strikes nothing but air. Hard leather slams into his grounded leg removing his support, Vegeta’s kick strikes true and sends his opponent corkscrewing in the air. Mid revolution the left side of Yamcha’s ribcage caves in from a swift chop spinning him around to face Vegeta’s smirk as the warrior is still upside-down in the air. Quicker than is possible for Yamcha to dodge or recover a hand rises facing his stomach. A glimmer turns into a spark. The ki strikes the helpless man and blasts him into the wall of the training room next to the door and straight through it.

“Drokk it.” Vegeta mumbles under his breath as the smoke clears and the 10ft wide path carved through the front of his house is revealed. Getting carried away in the moment this slight misjudgement has gutted the thankfully empty portion of his house that was unfortunate enough to be the direct line of fire. Splinters and embers drift down through the torn metal wall to the feet of the Saiyan as he steps out following the furrow carved through the floorboards of his house. Wedged into a large boulder with his head that ploughed through many metres of ground still encased in the soil, Yamcha’s arms crossed against his torso feebly hang down onto the crisped grass. Life saved by only just managing to block and deflect most of the power of the attack the form encased in rock flops out onto the superheated ground still smoking.

Trampling over the desecrated ruins, the weak charred timber disintegrating beneath his weight, he makes his way through the debris and out through an opening in his house that wasn’t previously there. Such a ruckus has drawn the other occupants of the household to gawp at what has become of where they are living – rubble and devastation where the front door used to be. Quickly they put one and one together as they see the man slowly walking along the path of his blast to the downed warrior struggling to try and lift himself up onto his elbows. A flash of magenta darts out from in-between Ryoko and Ayeka. Washu rushes towards Yamcha trying to get there before the looming menace beats her to him. She is too late, his hand darts out down to him when she is but mere feet away.