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Post-battle is always so still.
Gohan slumps to the ground, flat on his back as he stares at the clearing sky, heaving deep breaths into his aching lungs. The world feels like its spinning beneath him, his head is splitting and his eyes feel like they might be bludging. Every inch of him hurts, from his toes to his fingers, even the very tip of his nose smarts, blood still dripping down the back of his throat from too many well-aimed punches.
But they won. They fucking won.
Gohan grins, a laugh erupting out of him. It’s a little hysterical, maybe a tad insane, but then he hears the others start to join in. Krillin where he’s sprawled somewhere above him, Yamcha and Tien from below, Trunks and Goten’s delightful giggles somewhere to his left, even Piccolo’s deep guffaws as he suddenly appears above Gohan, standing over him looking beaten and bloody but alive.
“We won,” Gohan gasps, reaching up to grip the Namekian’s offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled back up into a sitting position. He feels a little sick at the motion but Piccolo’s other hand rests on his back and he leans into him to stay steady, glad when Piccolo just settles beside him on his knees.
He glances around to see the others. Krillin has scrambled down from the cliff behind Gohan to flop in the grass beside Piccolo, his grin tired but still bright. Eighteen remains sitting on the edge above though, watching them with her usual expressionless face, her eyes trained specifically on her husband. Yamcha and Tein are lying down further on the grass plain, although Yamcha throws a thumbs up in the air to show they’re okay, while Goten and Trunks are already scrambling up to chase one another, the battle-weariness slipping from their young shoulders.
Gohan frowns though as he counts his friends and notices two are missing. He last saw his father up the air, hanging over the large crater they’ve left behind, golden haired and blue eyed, enraged in a way he doesn’t think he’s seen him in many years.
Vegeta though… Gohan swallows as he keeps looking for a trace of the other saiyan.
“Gohan?” Piccolo calls after him as he struggles up onto his feet and stumbles away from him on battered knees. The thought of needing a sensu beans drifts through his mind but is passed over as he staggers over to the crater he last saw them both, the need to find his father and Vegeta much greater.
He hears the murmurings of the others but no one follows him, no doubt all too exhausted, and Gohan grits his teeth past his own fatigue as he reaches the edge of the crater. It’s larger than he expected, a shallow blasted line stretching out towards the nearby ocean, created by a frankly overpowered Kamehameha that had blown them all away. There’s still the crackle of pure energy in the air, tickling at the hairs on the back of Gohan’s neck, making them stand up as he crouches down by the crater’s edge and glances over down into it.
There.
A sigh of pure relief rushes out of his lungs when he spots two familiar figures down in the crater. They’re alive. He didn’t truly have doubt, but he remembers Vegeta stepping in front of the blow meant for his father, seeing him disappear in a crack of light and erupted earth… not seeing him resurface only for his father to blast so violently into Super Saiyan Blue that the battle had all but ended moments later.
Gohan isn’t entirely sure he can explain his father’s reaction. It’s not often that he’s ever seen him so wound up, he can probably count on one hand the amount of times, but this was different than just anger. This was something deeper, vicious even. The battle had ended with such a sudden abruptness that it had taken a moment to realise it was over.
Nevertheless, he can see both Vegeta and his father now. Vegeta sits in the bottom of the crater, head bent to rest against a raised knee, looking worse for wear with his shredded armour, blood streaked across his skin, and weeping wounds on display. His chest rises and falls raggedly, making Gohan’s own ache in sympathy, and he wonders just how hurt Vegeta must be to be taking such a long moment to recover.
His father, however, stands in front of Vegeta still powered up, his ki overpowering enough that Gohan winces from his own distance as the waves threaten to knock him over. That might be what is keeping Vegeta down if it’s making Gohan want to shrink back, and Gohan is just about to lunge over the edge of the crater to tell his father to knock it off when his hand is stayed.
Because his father is crouching down in front of Vegeta, and Gohan’s eyes widen when he takes Vegeta’s chin in hand, gentler than Gohan has ever seen him before, and he tilts Vegeta’s head back until he meets his gaze.
Gohan’s mouth falls open.
“Get off me,” Vegeta hisses with a furious glare, Gohan’s enhanced hearing only just picking up on the hushed words, and Vegeta reaches up to grip his father’s wrist to try yank it away with a sharp twist.
It does nothing though. His father doesn’t budge an inch, and Gohan’s breath hitches as his father tilts his head just slightly to the side, his expression strangely impassive.
Admittedly, it’s a little frightening, and Gohan has a horrible feeling starting to churn in his stomach at the strange behaviour from his father. His hands tighten into fists as he stands, ready to march down into the crater, not entirely sure what to do but to at the very least intervene.
But then Vegeta’s hand falls from his father’s wrist, something softens slightly in his glare. He lets out a rough chuckle. “Kakarot, I’m fine,” he growls, but it’s weaker than usual, lacking its usual barbs.
It’s enough. His father relaxes, eases back into his base form, blue giving way to black, his ki dropping to something more manageable, his body curling down into something smaller. His hand slips from Vegeta’s chin down onto the other saiyan’s shoulder, fingers toying with the ripped material failing to cover a particularly deep wound.
“You scared me,” his father admits, and Gohan’s eyebrows go up at hearing his father so… raw.
Vegeta huffs but doesn’t pull away. “Takes more than a few hits to-”
“No.” His father cuts Vegeta off, to both his and Gohan’s surprise. “It doesn’t.”
The air is heavy, thick with tension, and Gohan shifts awkwardly in place even as he finds he can’t look away. This is so different, so wildly unlike either of them. For a moment he wonders if perhaps they’ve slipped into a different timeline when they weren’t looking, but even if that might seem like the more rational thought at the moment, Gohan knows it’s not true.
“You’re getting soft, Kakarot. It’s sickening.”
Vegeta sounds genuinely disgusted and Gohan blinks in pure shock as a tired but brilliant smile breaks out over his father’s face, completely and utterly confused.
Even more so when a small one creeps over Vegeta’s own.
All of sudden, Gohan feels like he’s intruding. There’s something happening here, something he couldn’t begin to understand, maybe even shouldn’t understand, and he quickly scrambles away from the crater’s edge back towards where the others are gathered.
“Alright?” Piccolo asks him with a frown when he reaches his side again, and Gohan doesn’t hesitate in slumping back down on the grass beside him, avoiding Krillin’s curious gaze as he rubs at the back of his neck, trying not to think about what he’d just seen.
Of course, he fails miserably.
“Yeah,” he says, offering Piccolo a distracted smile. “Everything is fine.”
Piccolo narrows his eyes, clearly not buying it, but Gohan is thankful he doesn’t push. Instead he turns around to hold out a hand to Krillin, and Gohan smiles happily when two sensu beans are dropped into his palm from the pouch Krillin has procured from somewhere.
Gohan doesn’t question it. He reaches out to take one from Piccolo, frowning though when Piccolo pulls them back just slightly out of his reach. It forces Gohan to lean over him as he takes chase, more than ready for that bloody sensu as Piccolo gives him a suspicious look.
“Sure?”
Gohan rolls his eyes before snatching a bean and popping it straight into his mouth, chewing noisily as if to prove a point.
The rush is instant, starting in the pit of his stomach and roaring out under his skin, spreading down to the tips of his fingers as he wiggles them in delight. He grins at Piccolo, pushing what he saw in the crater to the back of his mind, to worry about later or forget altogether still to be decided.
“Absolutely.” He stands and stretches, popping his joints with satisfaction, working out the last of his aches. “We won, Piccolo. Stop being such a worry-wart all the time.” He nudges Piccolo’s thigh with his boot, drawing an annoyed look from the Namekian as he chews on his own sensu. “Come on, the other’s probably want to know what’s happened.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, instead stepping forward to take off towards where Goten and Trunks are squabbling nearby, even more feral with sensu’s onboard. Already he can feel the faint presence of Bulma’s ki coming closer, the drone of one of her capsule planes faint in the air, and he knows that there will be a swath of questions when they all return back to Capsule Corp.
Although later, when Bulma asks him just where two particular members of their group are… Gohan just smiles and shrugs.
After all, some questions just don’t need to be answered.
…
Bulma’s parties always attract a rather wide range of people.
Chi Chi almost finds herself to be one of the odd ones out these days, strangely human in the flurry of aliens, products of the universe’s politics somehow finding Earth to be its centre. She doesn’t know who they all are, sometimes just aliens and other times people she never thought she’d ever see exist let alone meet. Supposed Gods litter the lawn and patio outside Bulma’s house, mingling with such mortals so carelessly that Chi Chi wonders if they really are as all powerful as they’re supposed to be.
It doesn’t matter. She stopped bothering to learn about them after the universe politics killed her husband the second time.
Her old friends are littered amongst them all though. She still has to avoid Krillin’s grabby hands whenever she brings out her famous potato salad and Yamcha’s crows about how her home-baked bread is second to none always cause her to blush no matter how often she’s heard it. Bulma loops their arms together more often than not and Chi Chi spends many of her parties chittering behind glasses of wine, soaking in the gossip and dramas she would have thought such immortals would not lower themselves too.
Even so, she can’t help but feel… separate.
It might be why at this particular party, as Chi Chi slips amongst the guests sprawled through the Capsule Corp grounds in bizarre outfits of those clearly being not from this world, it’s easy for her eye to spot Vegeta where he lingers awkwardly at the edge. He’s clearly uncomfortable, shifting around to avoid anyone that comes near him, his eyes flitting about between the groups with a sneer curled up over his lips and a glower that could turn any of them to stone.
Chi Chi pauses though, pursing her lips as she finds herself slowing to a stop to watch the saiyan. Sure he might be radiating enough hostility that Chi Chi herself nearly curls away at the raw energy seeping off of him... but there’s something else there that she can see, something she thinks she might just recognise.
Because beneath all the bluster and puff, there’s a nervous hold to his shoulders, a clenched jaw that threatens to snap, an almost wild look in his eyes… there’s a cornered animal with no way out, lingering at the fringes, unsure about its place.
She huffs, because she recognises herself.
The her before she grew comfortable enough to mingle with all these strange faces, when she relied entirely on Goku to be her shield or Bulma to carry her through. Chi Chi feels a small tug deep in her chest, something close to sympathy or dare she say kinship. She remembers what it felt like to want to be anywhere but here yet held back by the unfair expectations of others, and it’s the thought that Vegeta could maybe use some support of his own that has her spinning on her heel and pushing back into the crowd.
It’s not hard to find Goku, the one person she thinks might just settle Vegeta. She doesn’t pretend like she understands their relationship, she isn’t entirely sure that she wants to try, but even so she thinks Goku might be the calming presence Vegeta might need to get through this night.
His boisterous laughter is enough of a beacon, loud and joyful even over the din of the party. Chi Chi slips around countless faces both familiar and not until she finally stumbles out near the barbecue where Goku is in near hysterics with Krillin, the two of them both flushed with red-cheeks, their joke undoubtedly not funny to anyone but themselves going by the flat look on Piccolo’s face.
Chi Chi doesn’t care to find out. She waits as her… ex husband? She hasn’t been sure what to call him since his third death. But she waits until he’s finished laughing himself silly before she steps forward and clears her throat.
“Goku,” she calls, pleased when his head immediately snaps to her. No matter what has passed between them, whatever has long since cooled and finished, Goku still treats her with the same respect and kindness he always has, a near reverence behind that cheeky smile.
But where it used to send her heart aflutter, it now just leaves her fond.
“Chi Chi!” Goku grins as he reaches out to sling an arm over her shoulders, tugging her in against his side. Chi Chi wrinkles her nose but goes with him, unsurprised to see there’s a bottle of beer gripped loosely in Goku’s other hand. She’s long since given up warning him about his low tolerance, although from the drunken daze spread over Krillin’s dopey face, she says it wouldn’t have mattered anyway with such an enabler around.
“I hate to intrude,” she says as Goku jostles her, giving Piccolo a withering look when he snorts at her deadpan statement, “but I believe that a certain friend of yours could do with a bit of attention.”
Chi Chi nudges Goku slightly until he’s facing where Vegeta is lurking, now half-hidden under a tree with an even more thunderous look on his face. She worries for a moment though that Goku might be a little too tipsy to understand what she’s trying to say, well aware she’s not exactly being straightforward, so it surprises her entirely when she feels Goku go rigid against her.
“Oh,” his voice is tempered, and she glances up to see Goku’s eyes are suddenly very clear underneath his deep frown. “You’re right.” His arm slips away from her shoulders as Goku hands her his bottle of beer distractedly.
She takes it purely out of habit, her eyes widening as Goku promptly strides away from her towards Vegeta, the crowd parting easily in front of him with each step. She glances briefly over to see Krillin and Piccolo watching him go with frowns on their own faces, but she pays them no heed as she starts to follow after Goku.
Call it morbid curiosity. It’s what she chalks it up to as she trails along until she stops when Goku does, far enough away that she doesn’t looks suspicious but close enough to see how Vegeta somehow tenses more as Goku reaches his side.
“Vegeta,” Goku says softly, making Chi Chi blink in surprise, not entirely sure she’s ever heard him so. “Not enjoying the party?”
She leans against the pole of the pergola beside her, rolling Goku’s abandoned beer bottle in her hands as she watches them. Vegeta huffs and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans away from Goku, his nose wrinkling in clear distaste. He looks even more annoyed than before, as if Goku’s very presence is offensive, and Chi Chi wonders if she may have made a mistake here.
“Overjoyed by it,” Vegeta snaps. “Can you not tell I am having the time of my life?”
Goku doesn’t even flinch at the sheer sarcasm dripping from Vegeta’s words, mixing with something Chi Chi thinks is pure distain. All illusions that she could know what Vegeta is feeling vanishes as the realisation he might just be an asshole after all sets in.
Yet Goku remains unbothered, and Chi Chi’s hands still on the bottle when Goku gives Vegeta a small smile as he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, a nervous gesture Chi Chi hasn’t seen in quite some time, and his expression settles into something sweet and fond, something… something Chi Chi recognises.
Her stomach rolls… no. Surely not?
“Yeah, it’s a little overwhelming,” Goku muses as he glances out at the crowd, and Chi Chi freezes thinking she might’ve been spotted although Goku’s eyes don’t reach her before he turns back to Vegeta. “Even I’m not quite used to the shindigs Bulma throws, and I’ve been going to them for years.”
Chi Chi is sure she can hear Vegeta grinding his teeth together from here. “Is there a point to your rambling, Kakarot?”
She picks at the bottle label nervously as Goku takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something, before he drops his hand from the back of his neck and offers it out to Vegeta who looks at it like it’s personally offended him somehow.
“Wanna get out of here?”
The bottle hits the ground, cracking into two at her feet.
A few cries of alarm go up around her but Chi Chi is deaf to them as she gapes at Goku and Vegeta, uncaring of just what she might look like. Neither of them seem to notice her though and her heart thuds loudly in her chest as her blood rushes in her ears, a million thoughts flickering through her mind yet unable to grasp a single one of them.
Vegeta glances between Goku’s face and his hand before he lets out an annoyed huff, tempered by the reluctant smile tugging the corners of his lips.
“And go where?” he asks, and Chi Chi is sure she’s making up the touch of fondness in his tone.
Goku just smiles broadly back at him though, shrugging a shoulder in that effortlessly careless way only he’s ever been able to manage. “Wherever you want. The world is our limit.”
Vegeta doesn’t budge an inch. “And what if I want to go somewhere else?”
Goku’s smile softens. A lump lodges in Chi Chi’s throat as Goku steps closer, bracketing Vegeta against the tree, leaning down slightly into his space. That look is still there but it’s different, somehow it’s different.
“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Goku murmurs.
Chi Chi struggles to breath as she looks away, her eyes burning and her hands shaking at her sides, her chest rising and falling a little desperately. She swallows thickly as Goku’s face flashes through her mind, the soft edges around his eyes, the quirk of his lips, the flush high over his cheeks.
It’s something she recognises so intrinsically well and yet doesn’t have a hope to understand. Something achingly familiar and yet so utterly foreign. She feels a sudden rush of burning anger flood through her but it’s cooled just as quickly with a wave of a strange acceptance and peace.
No.
She doesn’t recognise that look.
Because no matter how much she tries to compare it… Goku never looked at her that way.
She glances back over in time to see Vegeta reach out to take Goku’s hand, their fingers entwining together as Goku grins, two of his fingers pressed to his forehead before they’re gone in an instant, leaving behind a flurry of leaves and a sudden empty space beneath the tree.
To where, Chi Chi can’t even begin to imagine. Surely not everyone they know is here at this party, but it’s been a long time since Chi Chi knew everyone in Goku’s life. It doesn’t leave a bitter taste anymore, in fact as the moments pass with her staring at the blank space left from the saiyan’s… Chi Chi realises it’s rather quite the opposite.
“Krillin, you ass!”
Gohan’s shout startles her from her thoughts and Chi Chi whirls around to see Gohan standing behind her, holding a struggling Krillin in a firm uncomfortable headlock as Trunks wrenches an empty salad bowl from his hands, looking more furious than a young boy has any right too.
Chi Chi narrows her eyes, hands falling on her hips as she glares at the boys. “That better not be what I think it is.”
Krillin falls still in Gohan’s hold, slowly turning panicked eyes to Chi Chi, his cheeks smeared with the saucy sheen of leftover potato salad, an offensive piece of green onion stuck on his front tooth as he gives her a sheepish smile.
“It’s not?” he offers weakly and Chi Chi’s eye twitches. Krillin’s eyes widen before he slips out of Gohan’s hold with a sharp twist, sprinting off into the crowd with Gohan hot on his heels, swearing up a storm that would normally have Chi Chi dragging him home by the ear and grounding him indefinitely.
But this time she pauses, the sight of Gohan hollering as he takes chase reminding her very suddenly of another young boy, one with spiky hair and a brilliant laugh, a grin too big for this world and a future no one could ever imagine, one she happily followed to the ends of the earth until it took him too far beyond her reach, too far beyond everyone’s reach.
She glances briefly behind her at the abandoned tree... and thinks maybe not everyone after all.
“Come on,” she says to Trunks as she rests a hand down on top of his head, shaking her own at the morose pout he gives her when he looks up from the empty bowl. “I’m sure your mother has some potatoes somewhere.”
Trunk’s eyes light up as she smiles at him, and all thoughts of Goku vanish as he takes her hand and leads her away.
…
Krillin learnt a long time ago that getting hurt comes with the job.
That doesn’t mean it gets any easier. He’s always well aware that each battle could be his last, could be any of their lasts. It’s proven so multiple times after all, and were it not for the Dragon Balls then death would be as permanent as it should be rather than just a vague concept they play fast and loose with.
Even so, none of them want to be in that position. Just because they can bring someone back these days does mean it makes it any less traumatic.
But, as Krillin finds out in the worst of ways, an injury outside of a battle can be just as bad.
The explosion comes out of nowhere, rocking the earth violently enough that Krillin has to grip the table in front of him to stay upright. His breath hitches in his throat as his wide eyes meet Vegeta’s across said table, Yamcha and Bulma both starting up a crescendo of swear words where they’ve not been as lucky to stay on their seats. They’re sprawled on the ground in a heap together, but Krillin doesn’t pause to ask them if they’re alright as he tries find the source of the explosion, already tensing for any potential battle.
It came from somewhere to their left, close enough to still be on the Capsule Corp compound. Krillin sees a plume of bitter black smoke curling up in the air as the smell of a burning fire wafts towards them, no doubt coming from one of the furtherest buildings, and he’s just about to ask Bulma what the hell could have happened when she suddenly lets out a shriek.
“Trunks!”
Krillin’s stomach drops, horror rips through his body, and he throws himself into the air before he can even gather his wits about him. He feels Vegeta blast past him as they sprint across the rooftops towards the explosion, the realisation it’s coming from the training rooms Gohan had taken Trunks and Goten to less than an hour ago settling over him with a frigid fear.
“Goten!” Krillin screams as he clears the last building, nearly blinded by the suffocating smoke billowing from the building. “Trunks!”
He bursts through the smoke in time to see Gohan tackle Goten, slamming his younger brother to the ground with enough force to break a normal human body. Goten barely seems to feel it though, fighting viciously against his brother, his soot covered face twisted up in fury as he screams his throat raw, desperately trying to get to the burning building.
Krillin doesn’t hesitate to help, dropping to the ground beside the brother’s to clamp his arms around Goten’s own, gritting his teeth as he struggles. Gohan looks exhausted, his own face streaked with ash and grime as he clings to his brother.
“What happened?” Krillin yells, yelping when Goten’s teeth clamp into his arm. He shakes him off and scrambles to hold his flailing arms down, desperately hoping he doesn’t burst out into super saiyan.
“I don’t know!” Gohan sounds raspy, like he’s inhaled too much smoke. “Vegeta’s gone in after Trunks!”
“Let me go!” Goten screams, cutting off Krillin before he can answer. He thrashes around violently beneath them, nearly enough to slip away from their grips, but Gohan lets out a furious grunt as he leans all his weight down on his brother, pinning him to the ground.
Another explosion distracts all three of them, and Krillin looks up just in time to see Vegeta burst out the side of the ruined building, sending debris flying everywhere, his golden form terrifying as he hovers half in the air… Trunks’s limp body hanging in his arms.
“Trunks!” Goten roars and Krillin is suddenly thrown backwards as Goten powers up, Gohan flung the other way. He hits the ground with a grunt, all his breath leaving him in one fell swoop, and he coughs raggedly as he heaves in swaths of smoke instead of air.
Shit, he thinks as he slowly drags himself up onto his knees, blinking his stinging eyes as he feels a familiar ki suddenly appear in front of him, the unmissable sound of instant transmission announcing Goku’s sudden arrival. He looks up in time to see Goku catch Goten, wrapping his son up into his unbreakable arms, but he’s distracted very quickly by Vegeta. Vegeta, who’s still floating in the air, the burning building behind him casting him in a ferocious glow as he holds his son tightly to his chest, and Krillin can hear Bulma calling out desperately from where Yamcha holds her back where they stand not far from him.
And Krillin can see why.
Because Vegeta looks unhinged.
His hands are shaking around Trunks, his head bowed, his ki wavering dangerously to a level that makes Krillin nauseous. The air is crackling around him, leaving the hairs on Krillin’s body standing up, and he doesn’t appear to be listening to Bulma, to any of them.
However Trunks’s ki is faint and weak. Krillin knows they need to get him to one of Bulma’s healing tanks as soon as possible. Bulma is yelling the same at Vegeta but to no luck, and Krillin wobbles his way up onto his feet, more than prepared to go head to head with Vegeta if it means snapping him out of whatever daze he’s found himself in.
But then Goku moves, still holding a struggling Goten in his arms as he kicks up into the air to hover right in front of Vegeta. Krillin’s eyes widen, especially when Vegeta’s head snaps back and he bares his teeth at Goku, wild and feral in a way only enraged saiyans ever are, although Goku remains calm and level as he starts to speak, his words swallowed up in the roar of the burning building.
It seems to be enough. Vegeta powers down, gold fading to black, and Krillin can barely keep up as both saiyan’s suddenly turn as one before blasting off across the buildings together, their son’s still bundled in their respective arms. Krillin blinks, glancing around in time to see Yamcha scoop Bulma up and take chase with Gohan hot on his heels, leaving him alone with a blazing building and the sound of approaching sirens.
Krillin lingers for a moment, casts out for any remaining ki in the building just to be sure, before following suit.
By the time he reaches them, Trunks is already lying in one of the healing tanks. Bulma stands in front of it, one hand pressed flat to the glass as she types furiously at the tank keyboard, her expression carefully blank. Yamcha stands tall just behind her, close enough to offer comfort should she need it, but his attention is focused on Gohan where he kneels just in the doorway in front of a sobbing Goten.
Krillin pauses just behind Gohan, reaching down to rest a hand on his shoulder. Gohan tries to quietly shush Goten, wiping a cloth over his soot and tear stained cheeks. “It’s okay,” he says, glancing up briefly at Krillin’s touch. “He’s going to be okay.”
Goten doesn’t make much sense as he blabbers something into his fist. Gohan leans forward to crush his little brother to his chest, running a hand through his spiky hair as Goten wails into his shoulder. Krillin shuffles away from them to give them space, moving further into the room to join Yamcha.
“Did we find out what happened?” he asks him, crossing his arms over his chest as Yamcha grimaces.
“System overload of some sort.” Yamcha shrugs. “We have to wait for Goten to calm down to find out more. Gohan wasn’t in the room when it blew.”
Krillin purses his lips, dreading to know what the two boys were up to to have caused such an explosion on that scale. This close he can see the burn marks that litter Trunks’s body, his singed purple hair. Most of his left eyebrow is missing and there’s a few cuts and scrapes that might’ve been caused by all the debris. He looks a hellish sight, too little and young to be in a pod meant for someone so much bigger.
He looks away, a lump in his throat. “Where are Goku and Vegeta?”
They’re noticeably absent. Admittedly it makes Krillin nervous, especially having seen the state Vegeta was in. He can’t blame him. He doesn’t know if he could be held accountable for his actions were it Marron that was injured even the slightest like Trunks is now, though he can’t help but be reminded of the old Vegeta, the one he’d thought had been left behind on Namek so many years ago.
He just hopes it was only a reminder and nothing else.
“Outside,” Yamcha answers him, sounding tense. “You’d think he’d want to be here to make sure his kid is alright.”
Krillin gives him a withering look, not one to judge anyone on their coping mechanisms. Especially not hot-blooded saiyans. Yamcha has the decency to look chagrined at least and Krillin claps his arm before he heads off towards the nearest side door. He hadn’t seen them when he’d arrived out front so they must be somewhere else.
The door slides open with a quick press of his hand to the pad, and Krillin steps outside already looking for Goku and Vegeta. Their ki’s are nearby, Vegeta’s a little unsteady. It’s enough of a warning to make him pause for just a moment, unable to help feeling a tad nervous. The urge to make sure his friends are okay overpowers the want to shrink back inside though, and Krillin follows the curve of the building towards where their ki’s pulsate.
He’s not at all surprised to see the two of them standing side by side, Vegeta’s shoulders heaving with deep ragged breaths compared to Goku’s stillness, what once was a tree now nothing but a smoking destroyed husk in front of them.
Krillin’s eyes widen. Oh. At least Vegeta is dealing with it... sort of?
Although he winces when Vegeta lifts his hand up and fires one last ki blast into the mangled tree, blowing the left over stump to pieces.
“Feel better?”
Vegeta’s head snaps up to glower at Goku, looking vicious enough that Krillin strongly considers bolting back inside. The saiyan’s outstretched hand twists up into a shaking fist as it drops back to his side, and he looks ready to start taking his frustrations out on Goku instead of the now non-existent tree.
“Fuck off, Kakarot.” Vegeta spits the words. Krillin is impressed that Goku just sighs in response. So much vitriol thrown at him and he takes it without even blinking.
“You know I won’t.”
Vegeta’s responding flinch throws Krillin for a bit of a loop, having expected him to fire back with another obscenity. He doesn’t though, instead he drops his gaze to glare at the ground, his jaw obviously clenched. He’s covered in a thick layer of ash just like Goten, his grey jump-suit burnt and torn, and he crosses his arms as he shifts away from Goku, hunching in on himself.
Krillin can’t help but think that it just makes Vegeta look… small.
The father in him aches with Vegeta, even if he wonders a little if its more to do with Vegeta’s pride. He’s not cruel enough to think it actually is though, not these days, not anymore. He’s seen how Vegeta is with Trunks, especially when both of them think no one is looking. There’s a deep love there that Krillin is surprised Vegeta can actually feel after all the talk of saiyan’s being unable to feel anything, particularly towards someone as innocent as his young son.
He shakes away the thoughts though as Goku suddenly shifts. Krillin hasn’t moved out far enough for them to know he’s there, and he stays completely still as Goku takes the few steps between him and the other saiyan until he’s right behind him.
Only for his mouth to fall open when Goku reaches out and wraps his arms around Vegeta’s waist.
He expects something violent and explosive to happen, for Vegeta to turn around and throw a punch or unleash an unmatched ki blast. Surely Goku must be trying to wind him up? Maybe trying to give him the option of someone to fight instead of a poor defenceless tree, as a proper avenue to vent his frustrations?
But nothing happens.
“Kakarot-”
“I know,” Goku quietly interrupts him, tugging Vegeta back until he’s tucked in against his chest, dropping his chin down to rest on top of Vegeta’s head. Vegeta doesn’t struggle, although he doesn’t uncross his arms either and he looks stiff as Goku moulds himself around him. Even so he doesn’t resist.
But then he relaxes, sinking back into Goku’s hold as he brings a hand up to cover his face, and Goku murmurs something under his breath as he tightens his hold. Krillin sees Vegeta’s shoulders shake, hears a wounded noise pulled from somewhere deep and painful, and decides very quickly that this is not something he should be seeing.
He turns quickly, his heart thumping erratically as he hurries back the way he came, unable to blink away the image of Goku curled so protectively around Vegeta, the one person Krillin never thought of as ever needing protection. But then of course if there’s anyone that could ever bring that side out in Vegeta… well.
Krillin has had thoughts, theories, ideas for years. Eighteen told him he’s insane for it. Even Tien had laughed and called him delusional.
He can’t help his smile, pausing just briefly at the door to feel it spread over his face before he wipes it off and slips back inside.
Oh, how he’s excited to prove them wrong.
…
Piccolo doesn’t understand humans.
They’re an ever evolving enigma. Brave and cowardly, strong but weak, compassionate yet cruel… over and over they prove themselves to be walking contradictions.
He hated it at first. He was alone against them, beholden with only the memories of pure disgust his father had felt for them. For years he wished nothing more than to leave them behind, to go home to Namek where he would be able to understand the people and fit in for once in his life. But there was no way for that to happen, he was stuck, stuck with these humans that hated him just as much.
But then Raditz happened, the Z Fighters happened, years and years of unrelenting bullshit faced down with the cold certainty of knowing that no matter what they have each others backs made Piccolo realise… well, he’s not alone anymore.
It doesn’t mean he understands them though. They still drive him crazy, constantly making him feel like he’s going to go mad just from being around them. They’re vindictive and deceitful and vain in all the wrong ways. Bulma uses Shenron for cosmetic wishes, for Kami’s sake. But they’re also merciful and honest and selfless, and Piccolo decided a long time ago that perhaps they’re not a race meant to be understood. Perhaps they aren’t just a cruel joke being played on the rest of the universe, just ones to be taken at face-value.
But for all his problems with humans, they are nothing in comparison to saiyans.
Piccolo has been around Goku for a long time, has had memories of him since the moment he hatched. His opinion of him has changed drastically over the years from considering his death to be Piccolo’s sole purpose in life to begrudgingly realising he’s one of the closest friends he’s ever had. Goku has always been different to the others though, strange in comparison… just odd.
Although it took the arrival of Vegeta for Piccolo to realise that Goku cannot be held to human standards because Goku isn’t human at all.
Aggressive, hard-headed, impulsive and callous to a near fatal degree. Piccolo’s frustration with humans pales in comparison to the unbridled rage that saiyan’s bring out in him. To imagine that there used to be an entire planet full of the homicidal aliens, and while Goku pretends to not be one of them, Piccolo has seen him in battle one too many times and faced him on numerous other occasions to ever fall for that utter bullshit.
However, Piccolo himself is far different from the usual namekian. He grew up too far from their planet and ideals, has been influenced by his father’s memories that linger still in the recesses of his mind, and he knows that he’s more brutal than the average namekian. Years of fighting, being forged by violence, consumed by rage and revenge… Piccolo thinks he might just be closer to a saiyan than he’s willing to admit.
It their drive for battle that he gets. If there’s one thing they all agree on, it’s the need to train, to fight, to prepare for the next challenge. Never has there been such a guarantee than the inevitability of another threat to Earth and the universe.
Their regular training sessions have begrudgingly become something that Piccolo looks forward to. Goku’s unrelenting need for the next challenge means they happen consistently, although since his split from Chi-Chi they’re sporadic in their new frequency. Piccolo doesn’t mind, it’s not like he can comment on any relationship either human or saiyan, although there is a limit to which he’s willing to train to the point of absolute exhaustion.
Its why when Gohan had contacted him about another training session, the fourth day in a row, Piccolo had been tempted to turn it down. It was only the slight desperation he’d heard in Gohan’s voice that had made him agree and he hadn’t been surprised to see that not many of them turned up to the empty plane just outside of Capsule Corp that Bulma had commandeered for them.
“Piccolo!” Gohan calls out the moment he touches down, a brilliant grin on his face as he breaks away from the small group to rush towards him.
Piccolo braces himself for impact, barely letting out a grunt as Gohan collides into him. He can feel his cheeks warming as he stays still, letting Gohan hug him in greeting, and he waits patiently until Gohan lets out an annoyed noise before he dutifully pats the top of his head. There’s something comforting in the ease of routine, and Gohan pulls back to blast him with that too bright smile as he jerks his head behind him.
Piccolo allows Gohan to manhandle him as they head over to the join the few others. Krillin and Tien offer him quick waves from where they’re hotly debating something, Chiaotzu floating over Tien’s shoulder with wide eyes as he listens. Surprisingly, Seventeen is here, looking as annoyed as ever as he spars with Trunks and Goten, and Piccolo would believe it too if it weren’t for the gentle way Seventeen is jostling the two around, especially the still recovering Trunks.
Above them, Goku and Vegeta are going toe to toe for the millionth time. Piccolo draws a heavy sigh when he sees they’re both powered up in their super saiyan forms. For fairness reasons, they all often just train in base forms, but from the sheer power pulsing off of Vegeta, Piccolo assumes someone must’ve said something to annoy the idiot.
Not that it’s hard.
“-you’re insane,” he hears Tien mutter, and he glances over to see him looking at Krillin like he’s grown a second head. “There’s no way that happened. I don’t believe you.”
“It did,” Krillin snaps a little shrilly, making Piccolo’s eyebrows raise. “Go look for the tree. I dare you.”
Tien scoffs loudly and Piccolo chooses to ignore whatever it is they’re talking about. He glances down at Gohan beside him, surprised to see a knowing look on the young saiyan’s face as he stares at Krillin, but it falls away when Gohan meets his gaze.
“Thanks for coming,” he says cheerfully and Piccolo just grunts. “I know four days in a row is a bit much, but Dad was insistent.”
Piccolo narrows his eyes. “Is everything okay with him?”
Gohan shrugs. “Who knows. He’s never very open about what he’s feeling.” He shifts to look up at the sky, Piccolo joining him in time to see Goku and Vegeta’s twin ki blasts hit each other in a burning explosion. “If he even knows what he’s feeling.”
Saiyans. Piccolo shakes his head. At least Gohan came out reasonably well-adjusted… although he’s sure at least ninety percent of that is Chi-Chi and he is low-balling.
“How long have they been going at it?” he asks though, and Gohan scratches the back of his neck in a gesture so reminisce of his father.
“An hour or so? Dad started shit-talking by accident and Vegeta didn’t take it well.”
Piccolo bites back a groan. Goku and his big mouth. It makes sense then why the air is practically vibrating with Vegeta’s power. Considering his cluelessness, Goku has always managed to retain the ability to find everything Vegeta is sensitive about and then lean on it to it’s very sensitive breaking point.
In any case, it means the two of them probably won’t be finished for some time. Piccolo has spent many years watching them go at it, so he knows he isn’t going to be missing anything when he sheds his turban and cape and heads over to where Seventeen is currently pinned down by two cackling half-saiyans.
The afternoon passes calmly on the ground. Piccolo takes the two boys through some stretches and a few namekian martial art forms, keeping it simple enough to not put too much strain on Trunks but not soft enough that he’ll notice. Gohan joins them, grinning with delight as he falls into the familiar techniques, and surprisingly Seventeen lingers to learn, still appearing as bored as ever. Piccolo doesn’t care. Teaching has become second nature to him and it’s easy to nudge his pupils along gently, correcting them when they misstep and offering the odd nod of approval. Never blatant though, Kami knows that Trunks and Goten don’t need their egos inflated anymore than they already are, but Piccolo remembers how Gohan used to glow and do better whenever he would offer even just the slightest bit of praise.
The entire time, Goku and Vegeta continue battling. Piccolo has mostly fazed them out, only keeping half an eye on them to make sure they don’t actually kill each other. Vegeta has been known to go for the jugular on too many occasions, and while Piccolo agrees that he’s not as murderous as he once was, he’s still abnormally bloodthirsty and Goku is no saint either.
He’s midway through correcting Seventeen’s stance, much to the android’s annoyance, when there’s a thunderous boom followed by Krillin’s shrill scream. Piccolo moves quickly, tackling Goten and Trunk’s as Gohan and Seventeen throw themselves down beside them. It’s just in time as Vegeta and Goku suddenly slam into the ground in front of them, the shockwave enough to send Krillin and Tien staggering back towards them, Chiaotzu clinging desperately to Tien’s shoulder.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Piccolo roars, furious as he squints against the dust cloud flying over them. The boys are coughing under him and Piccolo glances down to make sure they’re okay before glaring at the problem in front of him as the dust starts to clear.
He’s not surprised to see Goku laughing as he pins Vegeta to the ground, his hands holding down Vegeta’s wrists as he throws his head back with pure delight. Vegeta looks apoplectic beneath him, thrashing against Goku’s iron hold as he lets out a near animalistic growl, legs kicking at Goku’s own. Goku doesn’t budge an inch though, and Piccolo is surprised that Goku isn’t completed eviscerated from Vegeta’s white-hot glower alone.
“Come on, ‘Geta” Goku taunts, making Piccolo wince as he slowly stands up, letting the boys breathe as they roll out from under him. “Yield.”
“Never,” Vegeta snarls, his teeth gnashing feral over the word.
Goku sighs, seemingly ignorant of their audience as he leans down to press Vegeta further into the ground, rendering Vegeta’s flailing legs useless as he twists his own around them. “You can’t get out of this.”
Vegeta bucks under his hold, making Goku yelp as he’s thrown just slightly into the air. “Get fucked, Kakarot.”
“Oi!” Gohan yells, his hands already covering Goten’s ears while Krillin’s clap suddenly over Trunks’s. Both boys protest but go still when Piccolo levels them with a sharp glare, pouting instead.
Neither Goku or Vegeta hear though as they continue to fight, Vegeta putting up a valiant effort despite being at a significant disadvantage. Power levels aside, Goku simply has height and weight over him, and Goku lets out a grunt of annoyance as he shifts over Vegeta, straddling his knees as he tries to keep a grip on Vegeta’s arms.
“Stop it,” he whines, sounding almost put out. Knowing Goku, he most likely is, and that makes Piccolo want to intervene with a solid punch to both their heads. “Just yield, ‘Gets.”
Vegeta just snaps his teeth at Goku with pure vitriol and Piccolo is genuinely about to intervene… when suddenly a wicked grin crosses Goku’s face, his eyes glinting deviously as he shifts over Vegeta, leaning down further until their faces are close together, Goku just hovering slightly over Vegeta’s furious glower before he swoops down.
And kisses his nose.
Piccolo’s stomach drops, his eyes widen, he’s already stepping forward to prevent whatever fallout is about to happen, his heart racing with panic. The earth doesn’t need another explosive crater, especially not one the size a severely pissed off saiyan can create, but he’s stopped from moving any further as a hand suddenly snags the back of his tunic and tugs him back.
“Gohan, let go-” Piccolo snaps, half-turning to the younger saiyan in anger… only to freeze as a sudden bark of laughter cracks out over the plane.
Piccolo pauses. Blinks.
He turns back around in shock, convinced that he’s finally gone insane from hanging around with this mental lot for too many years… but it turns out he’s not making up that noise as he sees Vegeta still lying pinned under a grinning Goku.
Laughing.
“What the…” Piccolo trails off, Gohan’s fingers pinching his back in warning. Not that it matters. Piccolo is stunned speechless as he stares at the laughing Vegeta, knowing without a doubt that he has never heard that particular laugh before. It’s not his usually deeply unhinged cackle, nor the villainous guffawing he’s never quite been able to shake.
No. It’s quite literally just a laugh.
“What are we looking at right now?” Seventeen asks from beside him, and Piccolo glances down to see the android has lost his usual scowl to a look of genuine and pure surprise. He’s glad to know he’s not the only one convinced he might be hallucinating right now, but Gohan’s delighted noise beside him is more assurance that he is still sane.
“I don’t know,” Gohan muses from where he’s still holding Goten in front of him, his expression soft as he looks at Goku and Vegeta. “It’s been happening for a while.”
Piccolo glances over to where Vegeta and Goku have gone back to squabbling, although without a shred of genuine murderous intent from Vegeta. Piccolo could be wrong, but it actually looks like he’s enjoying himself as he throws genial punches for Goku to catch, not bothering to shift even an inch from underneath him, and Piccolo knows he’s ogling them even as he finds he can’t look away.
Because they look… Kami save him, they look happy.
“Goku and Vegeta, huh,” Seventeen murmurs beside him, his tone reflecting the sheer disbelief that Piccolo feels. “Makes sense.”
“Makes sense?” Chiaotzu demands, and Piccolo turns to see him staring at them in shock. Seventeen shrugs a single shoulder before turning away, clearly not interested in explaining. Strangely enough, he doesn’t need to. Piccolo understand exactly what he means.
Goku and Vegeta. Huh. Okay.
Piccolo turns his back on them, just in time to see Tien sighing deeply as he reaches into his pocket. Krillin looks ridiculously pleased as Tien hands him a wad of crumpled up zeni, undoubtedly about to start crowing. He always has been a sore winner but Tien seems ready to wither that storm as he crosses his arms.
Piccolo doesn’t care. He reaches out to place a hand on Gohan’s shoulder, the younger saiyan turning to him with wide eyes.
“I believe this is something we are not needed for,” he says firmly, and Gohan’s lips twitch with a small smile as he glances behind Piccolo briefly. “I suggest we leave them to it.”
Gohan nods as he tightens his grip around Goten. “Fantastic idea.”
There’s no resistance from anyone as they take to the air, only Goten and Trunks letting out small whinges about not getting to have a battle, but Gohan easily shushes them as he tows the two of them back towards Capsule Corp. Krillin alongside Tien and Chiaotzu follow suit, the former well into his victory speech, but Piccolo lingers for just a moment.
Seventeen hovers beside him. They both glance down to where Goku and Vegeta are back on their feet. Their fighting has shifted into something more docile and, dare Piccolo say it, sweet.
“Can’t say I didn’t see this coming,” Seventeen murmurs.
Piccolo pauses, thinks back over the last twenty years, recalls the moment that Vegeta landed on this planet and every moment since. The teeming tension, the constant competitions, vying against each other again and again, years and years spent solely with one another over and over. Goku and Vegeta. Enemies to rivals to maybe even friends to…
He huffs, a smile pulling at his lips. “Can’t say I didn’t either.”
Seventeen nods slowly. They exchange a long look, a deep understanding passing between the two of them, before Seventeen jerks his head over his shoulder.
Without a word, they turn and take chase after the others.
…
Realistically, Bulma knew it was going to happen.
Maybe if this was all a few years back, she might have been surprised. In fairness to herself, she’d been wrapped up in the bliss of the marriage bubble. A husband and son made a neat bow for her family, even if her husband was an alien with anger management issues and her son was just a little strange every now and again. She chalked it all up to saiyan blood and moved on, telling herself it’s what she got for shacking up with someone who’s first interaction with her was when he threatened to kill her.
Well, her father always did say she liked the bad boys. Somehow, she thinks she might just have found the baddest of them all.
But that bubble had popped, frankly not long after it formed. Bulma loves Vegeta, that will never change. He’s the father of her child and what connection they shared has not disappeared. If anything, maybe it’s heat has been tempered but she still looks at Vegeta and feels a deep seated fondness tucked right down in-between her heart and ribs.
Bulma knows though, that he was never meant to be hers forever.
She wakes one night to a familiar sharp scream, lurching bolt upright as she blinks awake startlingly quickly, her entire body coiled as if ready to run. She sucks in a breath, glancing around the dimly lit room briefly before throwing the covers off, shoving her feet into the slippers at her bedside before shuffling towards the door as quickly as her tired legs will take her, snagging her dressing gown off the hook as she goes.
It’s not the first night she’s heard such a scream, and it won’t be the last. Vegeta doesn’t often have night terrors, but the ones he does have always leave chills running down Bulma’s spine. She’s never been able to imagine what they’re about, part of her never wants too. What little she knows of Vegeta’s past already makes her want to cry, already leaves her sick to her stomach and terrified for him. Vegeta may have been a villain when they first met, but Bulma doesn’t believe that anyone could survive the Frieza Force without turning at least a little bit insane.
It used to be easier when they shared a bed. Now she has to creep down the halls of their home to his room, hoping that Trunks has woken up. Luckily not as she passes his room, peaking in briefly to see his still slumbering form. Her son can sleep through nearly everything, a trait she’s sure Vegeta might have shared were he not traumatised from years of being hyper-vigilant every day of his life.
Not that he will admit that. Bulma sighs as she tugs her dressing gown further around her to stave off the chill in the air. She hasn’t heard any more screams but that doesn’t stop her from reaching the end of the hall where Vegeta’s room is. The door is slightly ajar and she can hear him inside, the silent agonised whimpers that break her heart each time, but just as she presses her palm to the door to open it… she hears another voice.
“It’s okay, ‘Gets,” Goku’s soft murmur reaches her, and Bulma’s breath hitches, her eyes widen, her heart thuds to a halt. “I’m here. You’re okay.”
There’s a muffled reply, Vegeta, and Bulma tries to swallow around the lump in her throat as she slowly creeps forward, pushing the door open just to get a glimpse inside. The room is dark, by there’s enough light filtering in around the edges of the curtains for her to see the two figures curled together on the bed.
Oh.
“You’re on Earth. You’re with me. You’re safe.”
Bulma has never heard Goku so gentle before, his voice tempered and calm, not a shred of his usual humour in it. His arms are firm around Vegeta where he’s wrapped up against Goku’s chest, their legs tangled together amongst the blankets, Goku’s face pressed into Vegeta’s hair while Vegeta gasps into the hollow of his neck.
“I hate it,” Vegeta hisses and Bulma’s hand strays to cover her mouth, not sure she’s ever heard Vegeta talk during one of these moments. “He’s still here. No matter how long it’s been he’s still fucking with me.”
Goku hums, his hand coming up to cup the back of Vegeta’s head, fingers scratching in through his hair. “I know.” His leg shifts to drape over Vegeta’s hip, completely enveloping Vegeta into his embrace. “He can’t reach you now.”
Vegeta lets out a disbelieving huff, stifled into Goku’s neck. “You’re a fool to believe that, Kakarot.”
Bulma bites her bottom lip, her eyes stinging with a salty burn when she hears the fear in Vegeta’s voice. It breaks her heart, shatters it into a million pieces, makes her knees weak as she grips the doorway to hold herself up. There’s never been a time where Vegeta has been so honest with her, and it hurts to know that even now, this isn’t meant for her.
But it’s eased just as quickly knowing that at least Vegeta has someone he clearly trusts enough to be so honest with. Bulma nearly laughs. Of course, of all people, its Goku.
“Not a fool,” Goku sighs, and Bulma can’t look away from the casual way he strokes Vegeta’s hair. Her fingers itch with the memory of the one time she’d tried the same, only for him to pull away. “He will never return. Even if by some miracle he does, he will have to go through me to ever get to you.” He shifts, pressing his lips to Vegeta’s forehead. “And I will never let that happen.”
“That is something you cannot promise.”
A stray tear slips loose and Bulma brushes the heel of her palm across her cheek to catch it. Vegeta sounds so desperate, sad, broken. Her bottom lip trembles as her image of him begins to soften around the edges, as the realisation that the Vegeta she has known for so many years is not the same Vegeta that lies before her now.
This one is vulnerable, so so vulnerable.
“I can and I will.” Goku’s voice is hard, unrelenting. “Don’t underestimate the lengths that I will go to to protect those I love.”
Bulma freezes. Love?
But Goku shifts, pulling away from Vegeta as he tilts his head up with a gentle hand under his chin. Bulma moves back slightly, worried she’ll be caught watching, and though she realises just how completely out of line she is right now, how much she is violating their privacy… it doesn’t matter all of a sudden as Goku leans down and presses a soft kiss to Vegeta’s lips.
Bulma stifles her gasp with her hand. Right. Krillin had told her about this. Not that she hadn’t already known, the signs have been there for much too long that one would have to be blind not to pick up on them, but to see Vegeta and Goku so blatantly together is still like a physical slap to the face. She ducks her head, swallowing down the strange feelings that dare to rise from her chest, reminding herself that it’s okay to feel overwhelmed.
“You’re coddling me, Kakarot.”
Bulma would clear her throat if it didn’t announce her presence, and she takes one last moment to glance through the door at the two saiyans. Vegeta is looking up at Goku, the light only just enough to see the soft expression on his face, one she’s never seen before. His lips curled up at the edges, his eyes half-lidded, jaw loose where Goku cups it with his fingers.
“Then for Kami’s sake, let me coddle you,” Goku murmurs, and Vegeta lets out an exasperated huff before Goku leans back in again, capturing Vegeta’s lips once more.
Bulma quickly moves away, pulling the door closed with a quiet click, hoping they won’t hear it. She presses her palms up against the smooth steel, taking in slow deep breathes as she tries to wrap her spinning mind around what she just saw. Too many emotions to name are running riot in her chest, threatening to rise up and choke her.
But just as suddenly as they appear, they stop, and Bulma brushes away the cooling tears on her cheeks as she turns to head back to her room, creeping down past Trunks’s own as quietly as she can. Her bed is still warm as she slips back into it, her dressing gown wrapped firmly around her as she snags her phone from it’s place on the nightstand.
It rings once, twice, three times before Chi-Chi picks up.
“Bulma?” she greets groggily through the phone, and Bulma can’t help the relief that flares through her. “Is everything okay? It’s the middle of the night.”
Bulma takes a steady breath. “Goku is here. With Vegeta.”
There’s a moment of silence, enough that Bulma wonders if she’s been hung up on. But then.
“Ah.” Chi-Chi sounds more alert. She clears her throat. “Strange, isn’t it?”
Bulma taps her fingers on her pillow, staring at the light filtering around the curtains. She thinks of Goku and Vegeta a few rooms down, thinks of that soft look on Vegeta’s face and the gentleness in Goku’s voice. She didn’t believe that saiyans could be that way, she truly thought they were fundamentally incapable of it. She wonders if that is what’s cause the unease in the pit of her stomach.
“Got time to talk?” she asks.
Chi-Chi laughs. “Absolutely.”
…
It’s quiet at Roshi’s house.
It’s strange. It hasn’t been quiet in a long time. Roshi is careful as he descends the stairs, the late afternoon sun shining through barely enough to illuminate the wooden stairs. Even so he still manages to avoid the creaky ones, years of trekking up and down the same stairwell enough to install a deep muscle memory in him.
Eighteen and Krillin are nowhere to be seen. Normally he’d find them settled together in the living room, some terrible soap opera playing on the television that Krillin still vehemently denies is his choice. Eighteen always looks too indulgent though and Roshi isn’t stupid. He practically raised that boy alongside Goku, he knows them both inside and out… to a scary degree if he’s honest with himself.
Goku is missing too. That in itself is not rare though. Since moving in nearly over eighteen months ago, it’s quite common for him to be off somewhere else. Roshi stopped asking him where he was going reasonably quickly, Goku’s cheeky grin and half-shrug before he instant transmissions away to lord knows where more than enough for him to know the kid isn’t likely to be back for dinner.
Not that Roshi minds. Kame House has always been bustling with people, visitors a plenty with their length of stay often indefinite. Even when there’s no one about, he’s got Turtle to keep him company despite the animal’s long suffering. After well over three hundred years, he’s used to a bit of solitude every now and again, but still he enjoys the company.
Even so, as he moves from the stairs to the kitchen, the house is just too quiet. The walls feel empty, cavernous, and Roshi frowns as he trails his hand across them. Something is wrong, off, and he glances around for any hint of a clue.
Only to pause as his eyes catch the calendar hanging on the wall, the scantily clad pin-up girl above the dates not enough to distract him from the last one that’s been crossed off with red marker.
Ah. Of course.
Three hundred years of experiencing so many deaths, yet not a single one left a wound so deep as Gohan’s. Roshi remembers the first time he saw him like it was yesterday, young and optimistic, quiet and determined. He had kind eyes, a gentle soul, a softness about him that never sharpened despite his years under Roshi’s tutelage. He was the only one that managed to push Roshi to his limits, who gave him a true challenge, his use of the Power Pole that Roshi had bestowed upon him frightening when wielded in his hands.
Roshi had loved him as a son, one of the rare times he’d allowed himself to care so deeply for another… it shattered his heart when Goku had killed him.
Not that he blames him. There’s nothing to be blamed for. Gohan understood the risks of Goku’s exposure to the full moon, after all he had survived it once before. He took every precaution he possibly could but if there’s one thing that Roshi has learnt over his centuries of living, it’s that when one’s time is up… it’s up.
Goku, however, never has been able to shake that overwhelming guilt once he found out what really happened to Gohan and the hand he played in his death. There’s nothing any of them have ever been able to say to ease the pain it has caused, and eventually Roshi had been firm with telling the others to leave it well alone. Guilt is guilt, it will pass on its own or not at all. Either way it is not up to any of them.
That doesn’t mean leaving him to suffer alone though.
Roshi sighs as he moves slowly out of the kitchen, his aching knees and hips letting him know that immortality doesn’t stop one’s body from ageing. He casts out for any signs of ki on the island, reaching to search along its borders as he meanders towards the front door. He isn’t surprised to feel the flair of Goku’s ki outside on the beach. Over the years Roshi has gotten used to the quietness of this particular day, the stillness of it all. Many a time he has sat beside Goku and watched the setting sun, silent and solid in the shared grief.
He stills with his hand on the door knob though when he feels another ki beside Goku’s own, and while it’s familiar enough, Roshi finds himself opening the door to confirm it with his own eyes.
Because there, down by the shore under the dipped shade of one of the palm trees, Goku sits in the sand… Vegeta of all people beside him.
Roshi stares, wondering if perhaps he’s seeing things. It wouldn’t be the first time his imagination has run too wild, but the more he blinks the quicker the realisation that yes, in fact it is the Prince of Saiyan’s that sits beside Goku, close enough they’re pressed together all the way from their shoulders to their hips.
He’s heard the rumours. Of course he has. Hell, he lives with Krillin who has never been capable of keeping a secret in his life. Even were this supposed to be one, gossip of the budding relationship between Goku and Vegeta has been all anyone in their circle has been able to talk of for months, and Roshi quirks his head to the side as he rests his hip against the door frame, almost surprised in how unsurprised he is by it all.
It makes sense, in a way. Roshi has seen all kinds of relationships in his three centuries and not a single one of them compares to the one these two boys have. It’s inexplicable, undefinable. Roshi would never say it out loud but it was obvious the ones they had with Chi-Chi and Bulma were never meant to last. After all, he might just know a thing or two about longevity.
But these two… Roshi has witnessed them over the years, the connection they share no one else will ever understand and the pull towards one another they haven’t seemed to be able to break. He shakes his head slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips. The only real surprising thing here is that they’ve managed to figure it out themselves.
He has half a mind to leave them to it, the worry of Vegeta’s reaction to being interrupted nearly enough to trump his original reason for coming out here, but never let it be said that Roshi is a coward as he squares his shoulders and starts out down towards the two of them.
Only to find himself pausing halfway, halting in the sand just shy of his doorstep, frozen as Goku’s quiet words float back to him on the gentle wind.
“-he told me not to go outside during the full moon,” Goku is murmuring, Roshi’s old ears nearly unable to pick up the soft words. “That we would be safe from the great ape that would come out if we stayed inside.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t listen one night and… it took me years to realise that the great ape that killed him was... it was…”
He trails off. Roshi’s heart aches as Goku slumps forward, hanging his head down as his hands come up to bury in his hair. Vegeta remains still beside him, barely moving an inch, and while Roshi is tempted to hurry forward to offer Goku at least some comfort, he’s willing to give Vegeta a chance first, even as the moments tick by and the air grows heavy with weariness.
Then. “Oozaru cannot be reasoned with or controlled,” Vegeta eventually speaks, and Roshi’s holds his breath as Goku’s head tilts slightly towards the other saiyan. “Saiyan’s lose themselves when they transform.”
“You didn’t.” Goku sounds desperate, something that makes Roshi’s skin itch uncomfortably. “You were in full control the entire time you were transformed.”
This close, Roshi can see Vegeta’s frown, his pinched expression as he turns his head to face Goku, the glow of the setting sun casting the two of them in a warm haze. He worries for a moment he’ll be spotted where he stands so blatantly in the open, but Vegeta seems to only have eyes for Goku as he holds Goku’s dipped gaze.
“Not from anything I did,” he says gruffly, his tone clipped. “Elite-Saiyan classes have a natural inclination towards controlling their Oozaru forms, while the lower classes are mindless and slaves to their basic instincts.” Vegeta shakes his head, stiff and sharp. “Not a single one in our people’s history has ever been able to overcome them. Their biochemistry leaves them incapable of it.”
“But-”
“Not even you can overcome your basic genetics, Kakarot.”
The implication is clear. Despite the blunt rudeness, Roshi can hear what Vegeta is trying to say.
It’s not Goku’s fault. It never has been.
And from the stunned look on Goku’s face, the wide eyes and slack jaw with his mouth falling open just the slightest… it might just be the first time Goku has ever believed it too.
Roshi swallows down the sudden rush of emotions that roar up out of his chest. A cool relief runs through his veins, leaving him knock-kneed and shaken. He has never blamed Goku, never, but knowing now that it was always outside of Goku’s control soothes a hurt that has rested deep within him for too many years.
Whatever Roshi may quietly think of Vegeta shifts as Goku lets out wounded noise and crumples sideways, only to be caught as Vegeta’s arms come up to draw him into a tight embrace. Goku is much too big against the other saiyan, but Vegeta doesn’t seem to care as he tucks Goku in against his chest, his hands taunt where they grip Goku’s shoulder firmly, his head angled upwards as his chin rests on the crown of Goku’s bowed head.
It’s uncomfortable and awkward but Roshi doesn’t think he’s ever seen Goku look so safe before.
He can’t help his small smile as he slowly starts to back away from them, hoping that he won’t be caught as he edges back up the beach to his home. Each movement feels heavy though, and it’s almost inevitable that the moment he reaches his door is the moment that Vegeta’s eyes fall on him.
Roshi freezes. Even from this distance, those black eyes are cold and penetrating as they lock onto Roshi’s own. He’s reminded very suddenly of who this man is, who he has been, the history they have shared over what is really just a fleeting moment in Roshi’s long life. He’s deadly and terrifying and Roshi feels a shrill of fear ripple down his spine.
But then it’s gone, just as quickly, because Roshi looks at the way Vegeta is curled so protectively around Goku, at the way Goku has surrendered himself so freely into Vegeta’s hold, and he knows that while Vegeta may have been a bad man once before…. well, people change.
People change for people.
Roshi risks it, a tense smile and a small nod, an acknowledgement of the burden that Vegeta is shifting to help Goku carry. It’s no easy feat, not when Goku has refused anyone else to help him shoulder it over the years, but even Atlas grows tired of carrying the world on his own. Roshi simply hopes that perhaps their own private Atlas has managed to find someone that will stand beside him.
And as Vegeta’s lips thin and he offers Roshi the jerkiest of nods back… Roshi thinks perhaps he has.
With one last glance at the two, Roshi closes the door, leaving them together in the dimming sun.
…
Fin.