Author's Note: Hello people. This is sort of a sequel to...'A Secret Place' Umm...this is
just a look into Veggie's twisted lil' mind. Warning: You might need a tissue...I doubt
it...but it never hurts to be prepared!
Disclaimer: These characters do not, I repeat, do NOT belong to me ((if they did I'd be
rich now, wouldn't I?))! Don't sue! I have no money! I have NOTHING you want! Don't sue!

A Look Into the Past

Young Prince Vegita looked out of the window. He sighed and turned around to look at Nappa.
Vegita strolled past Nappa roughly, smiling as he passed the older Saiyan. He only got a
scowl and a look of disgust in return. Vegita sighed and walked away. It was almost the
Prince's 5th birthday. He smiled as he thought about his birthday. He had always wanted
cake, or some other show of love and respect. He got none. The only person that had ever
given him a present, was a young slave that had once seen Vegita sitting in his room,
crying. He had been whipped again. Several scars showed on his shoulders. Vegita
remembered seeing that young slave standing by the doorway, watching him. Sadness and pity
showed in the slave's eyes, even though his life was worse off then the Prince's. Vegita
had told him to go away roughly, but he hadn't. He had walked up to the Prince bravely,
and smiled, as a gesture of peace. Prince Vegita had smiled back. The young slave, about
three years old, had given Prince Vegita the only gift he'd ever receive on Planet Vegita.
A teddy bear.
Vegita walked to his personal little room, and sat down on the hard bed. He looked around
the room, actually noticing that nothing filled the empty space except a small bed,
bathroom, and a closet filled with spandex training suits. Vegita stood up again. He paced
around the room in small circles, a worried look crossed his face. He was different from
the other Saiyans. Something made him different in a special, but supposedly bad way. It
was his hair. He had long, silky hair that tumbled down his back, instead of the spiky
Saiyan hairstyle the others had.
Vegita stood up and walked to the bathroom. He picked up his favorite comb, with little
dinosaurs, butterflies, flowers, candies, and smiley faces all over it. He smiled to
himself and ran the comb through his hair. He giggled and continued combing his hair. He
turned sideways, so he could see the reddish brown, yet coal black strands of hair that
reached down to his waist. He smiled. He had asked the hairstylist to cut it in layers,
so that it stopped in a point at the end, instead of being cut straight across. King
Vegita had always thought of his son to be mischievous and... different.
There was that word again. Different. In most cases, different was bad. Or remotely bad.
Or something related to bad. But Vegita had once seen a poster, that said the wisest he
could imagine. 'Different is not bad. Different is not good. Different just is.'
Vegita sighed and walked out of the bathroom. He sat down on the small, hard bed. Reaching
under his pillow, he pulled out a small book. Vegita glanced around nervously, making sure
no one was there to see him. He smiled and jumped off the bed, hiding behind it so no one
would see him. He giggled quietly and settled down to read his favorite romance novel...
Vegita had always been different. Right from birth. For one, he hated spandex. The first
time he set his eyes on a spandex training suit, he had refused to wear it. That is, until
the King had beat him with a wooden spoon. Then, Vegita had agreed to wearing spandex,
even though he puts on a pair of green tights, and a bright pink dress-type shirt,
whenever possible. Vegita was also different…because his personality was exactly opposite
of the typical Saiyan. He hated blood, guts and gore, which was a big disappointment to
his father. He actually took showers, which most Saiyans did not. He combed his hair often,
instead of leaving it to knot and tangle as a normal Saiyan would. And he liked to be
clean and cheerful, not scowling and growling at everyone at every minute of the day.
Instead, Vegita smiled and giggled at people throughout the day. Even though this got him
strange looks, Vegita spent his time cooking and cleaning the house. Yes…cooking. He liked
to cook, and he cooked well. He was a good chef, even though the King prohibited it, since
he was embarrassed that his son was a better cook then the royal chef. Also, a big
difference between Vegita and typical Saiyans; was that he could read. Yes, he could read,
and he took advantage of it, learning and studying. He knew more math equations then the
math teacher at a nearby school. He spent lazy, sunny days reading his favorite romance
novel, or catching up on the daily news in the royal newspaper. His IQ was the highest on
the planet, which made Prince Vegita proud, but made the King quite embarrassed.

Vegita ran a hand through his silky soft hair and put down his book. He sighed and rolled
over on his back. He stared up at the ceiling, somewhat intrigued by the texture of the
platform above him. He smiled and remembered a couple of his favorite parts in his
favorite book. He had learned quite well, that books were pretty much his best friends. He
had learned to trust, to care, to love, to be courageous, and stand up to what he
believed, just by reading a couple books. He smiled, to him, his world was entirely
different then anyone else's. And yes, its true, he loved. He loved his father, even
though the King showed no emotion towards his son. Vegita did love, though he only loved
his father, and another small being. His teddy bear.
Fluffy. Yes, Fluffy. The loving, caring stuffed bear that listened to young Vegita's
problems. Vegita would often sit behind his bed, hidden from view, and talk to Fluffy,
telling the teddy bear all his problems and wishes. Then, he would use his imagination to
make Fluffy reply wit kind and caring words. It was true that Fluffy was his best, and
only, friend.
Prince Vegita stood up. He had to go and 'spar' with Nappa now. Even though the Prince
despised war and fighting, he had to follow the King's orders. Vegita walked past the
throne room. He peeked in to see his father at his usual place. Sitting on the royal
throne, discussing matters with some other Saiyan. Vegita glanced around nervously, then
squeezed through the doors, and walked toward his father, letting his hair swish back and
forth behind him. He stopped beside his father's throne, staring straight ahead, acting as
Princely as he could.
The King glanced down at his son. He sighed and rubbed his temples in annoyance. He turned
back to the fellow Saiyan he had been previously talking to.
"Leave." The King commanded, waving his hand in a gesture. The Saiyan bowed immediately,
then turned sharply and walked out of the room.
Prince Vegita watched the Saiyan leave, before standing to face his father. Vegita looked
down sheepishly, knowing his father hated him, even if he was the King's own flesh and
"I'm tired…" the King glared down at his son. Vegita glanced up at his father, a curious
look on his face.
"Of what?" Prince Vegita knew he shouldn't talk to the King so openly, but he was curious
at what would make his father look at him like that, and talk so willingly.
"Of you!" the King yelled, pointing a finger at Vegita. Prince Vegita took a step back,
surprised and scared. He stood up straight and closed his eyes for a minute, trying to
become calm again. He heard the King growl at him. Vegita opened his eyes and looked up at
his father. Fear showed in his small eyes.
"What's wrong with me, Otousan." Prince Vegita asked quietly, completely forgetting the
fact that his father beat him when he was called 'Otousan'. Apparently, even if Vegita was
of royal flesh and blood, he was supposed to address the King as 'Your Majesty' or
something like that.
"Everything!" the King roared. He glared at his son. Vegita stepped back in surprise. He
knew his father didn't care for him much, but that one word stung his heart like a
thousand needles.
"Otousan…" Vegita bit his lip to hold back tears. Never the less, a tear slid down his
cheek. Vegita quickly wiped it away, hoping the King didn't notice. Too late, the King had
noticed his son was crying, and scowled in embarrassment at it. "Look at you…displaying
such weakness…you're never meant to be a Saiyan. You were never meant to be alive!" the
King glared at his son. Another tear slid down Prince Vegita's cheek. He let his head hang
in shame. His father's words hurt him more then anything in the universe. 'Never meant to
be alive.' Vegita's mind repeated those words over and over. He suddenly looked up. He
knew what those words meant. His father would kill him if he had to.
"Otousan…so what if I'm different. Different isn't bad! Different isn't good! Different
just is!" Vegita could tell he was to be yelled at. But his own father…killing him just
because he was strange and different from the other Saiyans? It wouldn't register in
Vegita's brain.
"You dare speak to me like that?" the King stared at his son, an evil smirk crossed his
lips, "Your 5th birthday is coming up soon…" The King turned away and studied the artwork
on the ceiling and walls.
"You remembered?" Vegita cut him off. He wiped another tear from his cheek and held back
a sniffle. His father had actually remembered when he was born. ~What an honor...~ Vegita
thought sarcastically.
"There is a Saiyan custom…you don't know about. If the Prince that is to inherit the
throne, is not good enough to take the responsibility of being a King... then he shall be
killed by his 5th birthday…unless he changes." The King smirked and looked down at his son.
Vegita backed up a couple of feet. He kneeled down and held his head. It was true then.
His father would kill him. His father never displayed any emotion. And apparently, he
would kill his own flesh and blood in order to find the 'perfect' king.
"Otousan…please…don't kill me…please…" Vegita's harsh whisper hit the King's ear. He
looked at his son, shocked.
"Look at you…pity will never win a war! Begging won't get you anything!" the King stood up
and glared at Vegita. He watched his son for a minute.
"If you change, to become a real Saiyan, by your 5th birthday, then I shall let you live.
If you refuse to change and remain…different…then you shall perish by the King's hands."
King Vegita turned around, ending his part of the conversation.

"I shall try to change Otousan…I shall try…" Prince Vegita said quietly. He stood up, his
knees were weak. He slowly walked toward the big, double doors of the throne room. He
glanced back at his father, a hurt look on his face.
"Leave brat!" The King hissed at his son, obviously knowing his son was still around.
Prince Vegita bowed to his father's back, and slipped out the door shamefully.
Prince Vegita ran down the hall, letting his tears flow as he tried to run away from his
biggest fear. He rounded another corner, his vision was blurred and he didn't even care
where he was running. He ignored the confused looks of Saiyans that roamed the halls of
the Palace, and ran past them all. He rounded a corner and came face to face with Frieza.
He backed up, horrified. Even hearing his own father telling him that he was useless was
nothing compared to Frieza. Prince Vegita bowed immediately. Standing up straight, he
looked at Frieza in the eye, and shivered. He glued his eyes to the floor.
"Why young Prince Vegita…what are you doing?" Frieza's voice hit Vegita's ear. He
swallowed hard.
"N-nothing Lord Frieza." He bit his lip, praying for Frieza to kill him quickly, or let
him leave.
"Oh…it doesn't seem like that to me…why are you crying?" Frieza's words suddenly woke
Vegita up. He was never aloud to admit he had emotions, especially not to Frieza. Vegita
quickly wiped away another tear.
"I'm not crying Lord Frieza." He replied with a shaky voice. His hand shook as he returned
it to his side. Frieza laughed that cold, cruel, evil laugh he did.
"You can tell me…" he said with a harsh voice. Vegita knew he couldn't hide anymore.
"My Otousan wants to kill me…" Vegita stated quietly, "If I don't change by the time of my
5th birthday, he'll kill me."
"Oh…what a shame. I think you should work your hardest to change…that is…unless you want
to die…" Frieza's words struck Vegita's heart. He nodded and bowed once again.
"Excuse me Lord Frieza." Vegita said quietly, holding back a small sniffle. He stepped
past Frieza and took off down the hall. He glanced behind him to see Frieza, cackling
evilly as if he had just won the biggest battle of his life. Vegita rounded the corner and
pressed against the wall. He shrank down until he was sitting, leaning against the white
wall. He stared straight ahead. He needed a friend, or at least a couple wise words. He
knew who he should turn to. His teddy bear, Fluffy.
Vegita stood up and peeked around the corner. He sighed in relief, noting no one was
around. He took off down the hall, running as fast as he could. Vegita ran around the
corner at full speed, and ran into someone, or something. He bounced right off the bulky
figure and landed a couple feet away. His head his the hard tile floor. Vegita sat up
straight and rubbed his head.
"Ouch…" Vegita whined quietly. He looked up to see his 'attacker'. Nappa stood in front of
him, chuckling to himself. Vegita scowled.
"Sorry 'bout that Vegita. I guess you need to grow a little." Nappa laughed. Vegita stood
up and turned away from Nappa abruptly. He walked the opposite way, mumbling something
under his breath.
Vegita walked in his room. He quickly hopped across the bed and hid in the corner. Taking
out his beloved teddy bear, Vegita hugged it close. He sighed and sat it in his lap. The
teddy bear looked at him, lips always drawn into a smile. Vegita smiled back.
"Can I tell you something?" Vegita whispered quietly. The teddy bear seemed to momentarily
nod. Vegita smiled and patted its head.
"My Otousan…wants to kill me, because I'm different. Different then the other Saiyans, but
different isn't bad, different isn't good, different just is…right?" Vegita told the teddy
bear quietly. Upon hearing this, the teddy bear somewhat seemed to, be afraid for Vegita,
if one can say that.
Vegita seemed to read the teddy bear's stuffed mind. 'Be yourself.' It seemed to say.
Vegita sniffled and let a tear run free, leaving a crystalline line along his dirty cheek.
"But...I don't want to die!" Vegita let another couple tears fall. He hugged his teddy
bear tightly. Setting it on his bed, Vegita stood up. And came face to face with the King.
Vegita's eyes went wide. He backed away. The King raised a hand, it started glowing.
Vegita backed up until he almost fell off his bed. His father was going to kill him.
Vegita closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held it for a minute, before letting it
out slowly. He took another deep breath. He heard a small yell, and something blow up. But
it wasn't him. He opened one eye, and to his horror, saw the remains of his best, and
only, friend, Fluffy.
Vegita didn't hear himself scream, he didn't hear anything. He just ran to the remains of
his best friend, and hugged the smoldering ashes.
" no…" He heard his own hoarse whisper, but didn't believe he spoke the
words. That teddy bear meant everything to him.
"Make a note…that's how you will end up if you display any more weakness." The King's
voice hit Vegita's ear. He gasped, and looked up through his angry tears at his father.
He didn't feel love anymore. The King, was someone that hated him. And Vegita hated the
King. He didn't care if he would die anymore. He didn't want to care. He didn't want to
"Go away!" Vegita didn't care if he wasn't supposed to yell at the King. He didn't care
about anything anymore. Someone killing his only friend...that's what he cared about.
"Hmph…learn from this brat!" the King spat out, before turning tail and walking out the
door, his cape flowed behind him.

Vegita ran into the bathroom and locked himself in. He cowered in the corner. His life had
been shattered by the hatred that ate his race alive. The hatred that had caused him to
be different. The hatred that made his fellow Saiyans kill for the sheer joy of it, just
to feed their ever-growing pride. The hatred that made his own father, beat him and whip
him like a rag doll. The hatred that was slowly growing deep inside him. The hatred that
would change him into what the human race would soon know him as. A brutal, bloodthirsty
warrior with no mercy, and no shame. The hatred that would soon transform Prince Vegita...
into a killing machine, with no love, no pity, no compassion, and no life. Vegita stood up
and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He stared at the anger in his face. The anger
that had previously not been there. He stood and watched his face, with no emotion at all.
He would change. He had to. Not for his father's sake. Not for anyone's sake. He would
change...because if he didn't, his life would only fill with more hatred until he exploded.
~I will change. My life has been ruined. As soon as I grow powerful enough, I shall wipe
out the entire Saiyan race. They brought the hatred that is deep inside me now…~ Vegita
thought quietly. He glared at his reflection, finally noticing that his hair was still
lying limp on his back, not spiked up like it should have been. He sighed.
Vegita read the back of the bottle of hair gel. ~Super glue-like hold?~ Vegita quirked an
eyebrow, but dismissed the disturbing thought of having to put super glue in his hair. He
sighed and put the whole bottle on his hair. He tried to somehow get it to stand straight
up. It only tangled and ended up looking like some demented Eiffel Tower sculpture. Vegita
sighed and shook his head. If he was going to look like a Saiyan, he might as well look
Vegita picked up the bucket of cement. He bit his lip and dumped the entire bucket of
cement on his head. Vegita quickly tried to keep his mold his hair upright, only to get
his fingers tangled. Vegita's eyes went wide. The cement happened to be quick drying. Not
only did his hair look bad, but now his fingers were stuck in it. Vegita shrieked and ran
out of the room.
Vegita ran down the hall, trying to find the science lab, so he could hopefully use his
hands again some time soon. He stopped at the right door, and ran in. The scientists
looked up at him.
"Prince Vegita…what are you doing?" a scientist poked at Vegita's head slowly.
"TRYING TO LOOK LIKE A FRIGGIN' SAYIAN!" Vegita screamed furiously. The scientist backed
away, laughing nervously.
"But your hands are glued to your head…that can't be good…" another scientist perked up.
"I KNOW THAT YOU IDIOT! GET MY HANDS LOOSE! NOW!" Vegita glared at the scientists, who
were speechless. Finally, one grabbed a chisel and a hammer. He walked over to Vegita and
looked his hair up and down. He started chiseling away gently.
"If you even break a strand of my hair…I'LL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!" Vegita yelled,
obviously mad. The scientist laughed nervously and patted Vegita on the head.
After hours of struggling, and chiseling away, Vegita finally had his hair, and hands,
free of that stupid cement. He thanked the scientists quickly.
"Say…do you have any formula thing…to get my hair to stand up straight?" Vegita asked. The
scientists glanced at each other.
"Uh…we're working on one…would you like to try it out?" a scientist asked quietly, not
even knowing the results of the formula. Vegita nodded and followed the scientists around
the laboratory a little.
Vegita stopped at a strange looking bottle with silver looking liquid in it. He glanced
around at scientists, who were watching him eagerly. Vegita picked up the formula and
swallowed the lump in his throat nervously. He poured the entire formula on his head and
waited Vegita's hair spiked out in two, twisted, spiky pigtails. His hair turned a
greenish color, then a light blue, then silver, then orange, then black, and finally, pink.
Vegita walked to the mirror proudly, wondering what he looked like. When he saw his pink,
twisted, spiky hair, he screamed.

Vegita ran back to his room, frantic. What was he going to do about his hair? He grabbed
a comb and tried to comb his hair. The comb promptly melted. Vegita shrieked and stuck his
head in a bucket of ice water. His hair slowly turned back to normal.
Vegita let out a small sigh of relief. He sighed and sat down. Watching the flickering
lights above his head, Vegita thought about what he could do to his hair. Flickering
lights. A small idea crawled into Vegita's brain. Light…electricity! Vegita marveled at
his genius. He touched his still dripping wet hair, and smiled. He was a genius! He walked
over to the electric socket. Studying it for a minute, Vegita smiled evilly. He would look
like a Saiyan soon enough.
Vegita walked into the kitchen. He glanced around. Walking to the kitchen utensils section
of the giant kitchen. Vegita studied all the utensils, before picking up a fork. He smiled.
~This will do nicely…~ Vegita thought, still smiling. Vegita walked back into his bathroom.
He checked to make sure his hair was still wet. He grinned and cracked his knuckles. He
knelt down by the electric socket, and thought for a minute. ~A new Saiyan is born!~
Vegita thought happily. He stuck the fork in the socket. And promptly electrocuted himself.
The entire building's lights flickered violently. Before burning out slowly. A small
explosion was heard, and many Saiyans ran to see what it was about. The King pushed
through the growing crowd. He was shocked. Vegita's entire 'room' was in ruins. And Vegita
stood in the middle, fists clenched, eyes glowing. Despite his anger, his hair was still a
mix between reddish brown, and coal black. Except now it was spiked up in a rather Saiyan-
like manner. Vegita let his head hang, and glued his eyes to the floor, growling the whole
while. He stood in the middle of the ruins, glowing with anger, while the dust and smoke
swirled up around him. A Saiyan took a brave step forward.
"Prince Vegita? Are you ok?" the nervous Saiyan edged a little closer. A ki blast landed
by his feet.
"You all wanted a real Saiyan." Vegita smirked coldly, "Well here I am."
"Prince Vegita! Are you serious? Have you…changed?" another Saiyan spoke up.
"I have changed. For the worst. I am now a real Saiyan. Cold, cruel, bloodthirsty, war
hungry, and deadly. Like you." Vegita crossed his arms across his chest. He glared at
anyone who dared to move. Finally moving, Vegita walked past the shocked crowd. He ki
blasted anyone that dared to reach out and touch him. He waltzed down the hall, and turned,
heading for the training rooms.
Not only had he electrocuted his hair, making it stand on end, like a real Saiyan, he had
killed his brain. His brain that previously was a genius, a genius with a love of
gardening, cooking, reading, and learning. He would be the kindest Saiyan to live. Yet,
when Vegita had done the simple mistake of sticking that fork in the electric socket, he
had killed the smartest, kindest Saiyan alive. Reborn as a heartless, brutal, bloodthirsty
killer, Vegita would soon wish he had stayed different. He was now the true Prince of
Saiyans, everything that the Saiyans expected of him, everything they wanted in a king.
Yet, this was not what Vegita wanted. He wanted to be what he was before, and excepted as
a Saiyan, despite the great differences.
The King watched his son spar with Nappa. He watched in awe as his son beat the older,
much bulkier Saiyan to the ground. Had he made a mistake by pushing his son to change?
Probably. He was now the proud, arrogant Prince we know him to be. Every deadly kill fed
his continuously growing pride. Vegita stopped pounding Nappa into the ground, to look up
at his father.
"What do you want." He snapped, glaring at his father.
"You need to take one simple test." The King replied calmly.
"What kind of test?" Vegita asked, curiosity filled his voice.
"You'll find that out when you take the test." The King said, knowing he was annoying his
son. Vegita growled and left Nappa to twitch and quiver on the floor of the room.
Vegita walked a little bit behind his father. He glared at the back of his father's head.
Not even caring if he had loved him before. Not even caring if he had never treated him
with respect, and yet Vegita had still loved his father, like any other small boy and his
father. He shook his head vigorously, as if to shake the thoughts out of his head.
King Vegita walked in the throne room. He walked away from Vegita, and sat down on his
royal throne. He raised his head high, and looked out at Vegita from his partially open
eyelids. He smirked and raised a hand. Vegita immediately fidgeted, but remained in his
place. He watched his father intently.
"Bring in the boy!" the King called out, turning to one of the guards. He smirked as he
watched the guard bow, run out of the room, and come back, dragging a small boy behind him.
Vegita watched the guard pull the boy to the center of the throne room, near Vegita. He
glanced at his father, then glued his eyes to the scene in front of him. He looked the boy
up and down, noticing he was a slave. Ragged cloths and a scraggly hat covered the boy's
thin bones and frail structure. He noticed the boy's hands were chained together, in back
of him. He glanced at the boy's feet, noting the boy didn't have any shoes, and his feet
were also chained together. The guard pushed the boy down roughly. The boy landed on his
knees and bent forward, letting his head hang and exposing his neck. Vegita knew what this
meant. He was to kill the boy. He shrugged. It didn't seem hard enough.
Vegita suddenly heard crying. He looked at the boy, noticing his entire body was shaking
from his staggered sobs. The Prince felt pity tug at his heart, but ignored it. He walked
toward the boy a little. He noticed the boy had just a couple inches of hair. Vegita
raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms across his chest. A cold, smug smirk crossed his
"Look at you…displaying such weakness. You deserve to die." Vegita imitated his father.
"Prince Vegita…forgive me for showing weakness." The small boy's voice was just a thin
whisper. Vegita's mind snapped. His eyes went wide, as his mind recognized the quiet voice.
Years before, that same voice had said some kind words. 'Its ok to cry...crying sometimes, take this..."
The boy shuddered as another sob racked his entire body. He held his breath, trying not to
display any more weakness. He looked up at Vegita. His pale, white face stared at Vegita
blankly. His eyes, an icy blue, searched Vegita's own coal black eyes. He was not a Saiyan,
yet his rusty brown hair stood on spiked ends on his small head. He continued staring
blankly at Vegita, letting crystalline tears run down his dirty, smudged cheeks. He took a
staggered breath, as if to let Vegita know he already felt his time coming. He closed his
eyes tightly and let another couple tears stream down his small face. Vegita continued to
stare at the boy, holding back his own shock and astonishment. It was the same boy. It
seemed like hundreds of years had passed when Vegita first saw that boy. The boy that was
still the same age as when they first met. That boy, that had shown the Prince some
compassion and love when everyone else looked down on him and hurt him. The same boy,
which had given Prince Vegita the only friend he had ever had. The same exact boy, with
the same exact eyes, hair, and caring personality, that had given Prince Vegita, his teddy
Vegita took a step back, and stared at the boy, the boy that seemed like a ghost in his
life. His cold, icy blue eyes, cried out for mercy and pity.
His scarred body, with whip lashes and deep cuts, was shaking, in hopes that the life
would not leave yet. Vegita shook his head, and felt tears form in his eyes. He clenched
his fists, hoping his father would tell him that this didn't need to be done. Vegita
lowered his head, and set his coal black eyes on the floor. He could not do this. To a boy
that had given him love when everyone else had given him hate? No, he would not.
The King waved a hand, and the guard immediately walked to the corner of the room. A sound
was heard, that of metal hitting metal. The guard trotted over to Prince Vegita, sword in
hand. Vegita held out his hands, palms up, without thinking. The guard placed the sword in
Vegita's hands.
He looked down at it, running his eyes over the carefully carved symbols in the handle. He
smirked, he like weapons. He studied the sword a little more, before flipping it around in
his hands. He held it carefully, still studying the finely crafted blade. He smirked and
kneeled down on the floor. He gently set the sword down on the tile floor, and stood back
"Kill the boy!" the King yelled from atop his royal seat. Vegita looked up to see his
father. He shook his head blankly.
"No." His voice was stern, but his hands were shaking.
"Kill him or I'll kill you!" the King stood up, his face was flushed, he was obviously
angry. Vegita looked at the boy.
"I'm sorry…" Vegita whispered quietly. The boy looked up.
"I am glad to die…by the hands of such a brave warrior." The boy's voice cracked, and
another tear hit the cold tile floor. Vegita held his breath, trying to hold back the tears
that would show the unwanted 'weakness'. Vegita crouched down and picked up the sword. It
suddenly seemed too heavy for him to hold. He walked up to the boy.
The boy bent forward, exposing his neck. He held his breath and closed his eyes. A single
tear flowed freely down his cheek and fell from his chin onto the floor. He let out the
breath that he was holding. He bent forward a little more. He felt the icy coldness of the
blade touch the back of his neck. He shivered. The cruel and brutal world on the planet he
had previously called 'home' was about to leave his brain. He was glad, he would never
have to witness his family and friends being beaten with a leather whip. The same whip
that had beat his friends and family had left scars of cruelty and hatred on his own
shoulders. And the same whip had left bloody wounds and scars, filled with the ever
growing hatred that was eating the planet alive, on the Prince's shoulder's and back.
Prince Vegita touched the boy's neck several times with the tip of the sword, as if
measuring up. He knew he would never be able to do it. He trembled, his father would kill
him if he didn't kill this young boy. The young boy that would only have to work and slave
for many more years. With no future ahead of him. Vegita sighed quietly. He was apparently
doing this young boy a favor by killing him. Vegita touched the back of the boy's neck
once more, before raising the sword high above his head. He closed his eyes. Was he really
going to kill this boy? He had to, if he didn't, not only would the boy die, so would the
Prince. Vegita suddenly saw his father, beating him. Whipping him and beating him when he
did something wrong. Vegita opened his eyes, enraged, he glared at his father. He looked
down at the boy. Suddenly, the boy wasn't the rusty brown haired, icy blue eyed boy he had
known before. Now, it was images of Vegita being whipped and beaten by his own father,
with the cruel laughter of the King in the background. Vegita felt his fists clench the
sword tighter, as he looked over the boy, with enraged eyes. Vegita raised the sword a
little higher, before pulling it downward and toward the boy.

The boy felt the icy sword hit the back of his neck. Before it cut through his skin. His
body became rigid. His life was now officially over. The boy uttered a single, small, weak
cry. Before the sword sliced cleanly through the bone and muscle in his neck. The boy's
mouth froze in a silent scream. His eyes opened in horror. His entire face froze in vivid
Vegita looked down at the boy he had just decapitated. He loosened his grip on the sword,
and let it fall to the floor with a clatter. He froze, staring down at the lifeless eyes
that stared up at him. Accusing him. His knees felt weak, and his hands shook. Vegita
shrank to the floor, holding his head in his hands. He looked at the boy again. Those icy
blue eyes that once sparkled with happiness, the first time they had met. But now, those
icy blue eyes burned into Vegita's consciousness. Guilt filled Vegita's mind and heart. He
touched the boy's forehead, as if not believing he had actually killed someone. Vegita
looked at his hands. They were stained with blood. Blood that had previously not been
there, but somehow magically appeared. He looked at the sword. It glistened in the dim
light in the room. Vegita could clearly make out the fresh blood, still clinging to the
sword. Vegita looked back down to the boy. The boy's mouth was still open in a scream, a
thin streak of blood flowed down from the boy's mouth and dripped down from his chin.
Vegita turned away, the emotionless expression and pale, drained face still replayed in
Vegita's mind. He shook his head roughly, trying to make them disappear.
The cold, cruel laughter of the King filled the air. Vegita grabbed his head. The floor of
the room spun around, and it took Vegita several minutes to realize he had thrown up. He
stood up weakly. Looking up at the King's heartless expression, Vegita shook his head once
more, and wiped the blood and sweat off his forehead. He looked down at his own hands.
Covered in blood, they were shaking. Vegita clenched his hands into tight, little fists.
He knew this was only the beginning. So much more blood would soon cover his hands. He
bowed to the King roughly, and turned to leave. Another was of cruel laughter filled the
room. The guards that had been in the throne room the whole time, also joined in. The cold,
brutal laughter hit Vegita's ear. He felt the hatred in his heart grow. He whirled to face
the King. He glared at the King for a few solid minutes, before bowing once again, and
walking out the huge, double doors of the throne room. More cruel laughter sounded after
The savage, impassive laughter of adults gave way to the sweet, pure laughter of children.
Vegita clutched his ears and sat up straight. He squeezed his eyes shut and stayed in
place for a little while. When the sound of children laughing echoed in his head, he
uttered a small cry and rolled off the bed. He landed on the ground with a thud. He got
upon his knees, and hid his face in the dark shadows of the night. He held his breath and
squeezed his eyes shut. Vegita waited for the insane laughter to cease.
Vegita stood up, and rubbed his head gingerly. Looking down at Bulma, he wondered why he
had chosen such a weak mate in the first place. He walked over to the other side of the
bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed carefully. He watched Bulma sleep for a little
while, before gently reaching up and wiping the stray locks of hair from her face. He
looked down at her, and was surprised when she opened her eyes and smiled up at him weakly.
Vegita didn't smile back, he held his face emotionless. Studying her for a minute, Vegita
finally stood up straight, and headed for the door.
"Vegita…?" Bulma's small whisper made Vegita turn to look at her fondly. Bulma smiled
again, this time for encouragement.
"What do you want." A rough reply was exactly what Bulma expected. Bulma never expected
Vegita to change as much as he did.
"I was just wondering…if you were ok…" she replied quietly.
"Of course I'm ok. Why wouldn't I be ok? It's none of your business anyway…" Vegita had a
hard time with words. Even if he had meant to say something nicely, it always came out as
a gruff reply. But Bulma already knew that he was kind and caring deep down inside. He had
shown it to her once, a couple weeks after Trunks was born.
Bulma smiled as she remembered when he had just appeared in her room late at night.
Naturally, she was angry with him, but he had just looked down sheepishly, and actually
apologized. He had pulled her into his strong arms. Bulma couldn't remember what happened
next, but she knew that when she opened her eyes a couple hours later, she was out who-
knows-where. Bulma could see the image of the beautiful forest around her clearly in her
head. Vegita had taken them to some place in Austria. The snowy mountain peaks glistened
in the background. The bright stars glistened up overhead in the secretive night sky.
There was lush, mountain forest surrounding them. A small clearing, covered in fragrant
wildflowers, and a primitive bench type seat, carved out of rock, was conveniently placed
in the middle of the whole clearing. A sparkling lake was dancing around down below them.
And when Bulma had looked over the edge of the cliff carefully, she spotted a clear, fresh

Bulma smiled in remembrance. They had sat on that carved rock, and watched the sun set
together. Bulma felt her heart reach out to Vegita as he continued to stand in front of
her, staring at her with an emotionless expression.
"Vegita…I know you well…I should be able to tell when something in bothering you…" Bulma
answered Vegita's rough question with kind, caring words. Vegita crossed his arms
protectively. He walked over to Bulma, who was now sitting up in their bed, and knelt down
by her.
"I'm fine." He snapped. But Bulma could hear the kindness in his voice.
"Vegita…please…" Bulma pleaded gently, taking Vegita's hand into hers. Vegita turned away
slightly. His father would have killed him long ago for mating with such a weak human, and
for showing such a weakness as bondage. But his father wasn't alive. Vegita would have
surpassed his father a long time ago.
"Bad dreams…" Vegita muttered quietly. Bulma smiled, she had reached him. Now Vegita's
heart was talking, not his Saiyan brain.
"What kind of bad dreams?" Bulma asked quietly, hoping to persuade Vegita to talk some
more. She gently ran a hand through Vegita's hair. She hooked her arm around his neck
"Dreams of the past…" Vegita replied, not meeting Bulma's look. Bulma immediately knew not
to push too far. From all she knew about Vegita, his past was not a happy one. She
remembered when she first saw the scars and deep cuts that a whip had left behind. She
already knew Vegita's past was filled with hatred and brutal killing.
"Oh…do you…want to talk about it?" she asked quietly, not knowing what to think. Vegita
turned to look at her for a moment. He kissed Bulma on the forehead, and stood up.
"No…I'm fine…" He said quietly. Bulma knew he meant it, his voice was soft and gentle, not
harsh as it should have been. Vegita turned around and walked toward the door.
"Wait…where are you going?" Bulma's voice hinted suspicion and anger as she watched Vegita
put a hand on the doorknob, "Vegita!"
"I'm going to go check on that purple-haired brat." Vegita replied gruffly, 'purple-haired
brat' meaning Trunks, Vegita and Bulma's son. Bulma didn't protest. Vegita usually didn't
act like this, and she knew he would probably talk to Trunks as if he understood. Of
course, Trunks was smarter then the average Saiyan, he might just understand.
Vegita stepped out of the bedroom, and walked down the dark hall. He could navigate all of
Capsule Corp. with his eyes closed. He usually spent his nights prowling around in the
dark halls of Capsule Corp. or flying out somewhere, finding some new secret place to take
Bulma to.
Vegita gently opened the door to Trunks' bedroom. He peeked in, and glanced around at the
shadows around him. He read the digital clock by the nightstand clearly. 4:30. Vegita
walked in the room, and winced when the door slammed sharply from the breeze that blew
through the open window. Vegita quickly walked over to the window, and closed it. He
looked outside, to see the stars shining brightly. There were no clouds that night, and
the only thing that ruined Vegita's view of the night sky was the small tree branch that
hung low over the window.
Vegita scowled when he heard Trunks whimper quietly. He sighed and shook his head. Walking
over to Trunks' crib, he looked down at the small baby, only about a year old. Vegita
looked down at Trunks. He reached down and picked up the baby boy carefully. Holding him
arm's length away, Vegita studied him for a moment, before cradling Trunks close to his
chest. Vegita scowled and pulled off the little blue hat, with little horns, off of Trunks'
head. A small lock of curly, purplish blue hair sprung up and sat atop his small head.
Vegita chuckled. A Saiyan with curly hair. There's something new. Vegita gently placed the
small cap back on Trunks' head, and pulled it down until it fit snugly. Vegita smirked. He
watched Trunks attack his father's fingers, and proceeded to try and chew them up.
"You are strong. Then again…you are my son." Vegita smirked and yanked his fingers free,
to Trunks' dismay. Trunks looked up as his father, questioningly. Vegita looked back down
at Trunks, his coal black eyes stared right into Trunks' heart. The young Saiyan didn't
dare move, he stared right back at his father's emotionless eyes, those eyes that seemed
to go on forever. Trunks finally fidgeted, his father's steady, unmoving gaze startled him.
It seemed as if Vegita would just stare until Trunks disappeared, or turned away, whichever
came first. Vegita smiled down at Trunks.
He actually smiled. Instead of his usual smirk, a real smile crossed his lips. His first,
true smile, since that merciless killing years before. Trunks looked up at his father,
with questioning eyes. Finally, not being able to contain himself any longer, Trunks
scrunched his face up, and released a childish giggle. Vegita smiled again. All those years
back on his home planet. All those years of brutal pain and murder, the years when everyone
was whipped savagely, and the only ones that had lived without scars of pain and suffering,
were killed at birth. Were all washed away with a simple smile. Vegita placed a hand on
Trunks' head and looked down at his son. Trunks looked back up at his father, waiting for
another question to be answered, another problem to be solved. Vegita looked out the
window, suddenly realizing the sun was rising. He walked to the window, with Trunks still
sitting comfortably in his father's arms.

Vegita looked out the window. Vegita turned his son around gently, he propped Trunks
against his chest so he could see the rising sun. Trunks stared out the window, and
marveled and the different colors of the sun. Vegita also stared in awe at the colorful
sphere in the sky.
"See Trunks. The rising sun is a bright, blood red. Just like the war, bloodshed,
manslaughter, and continuous bloody beating that plagued my home planet. And finally
consumed it alive…" Vegita said slowly, letting the words sink in, he paused to look down
at Trunks, "I'm glad you don't have to live like that…" Vegita said quietly, before
turning his full attention to the picture ahead of him.
Vegita watched the sun rise slowly, filling the previously dark sky with a colorful array
of light. Vegita smiled and laid a hand on Trunk's head, while continuing to admire the
rising sun. The singing and chirping of the birds that had just woken up, somewhat
brightened the entire scene. Vegita couldn't help smiling when Trunks reached out to try
and catch a few butterflies that happened to be flying past.
Vegita felt his heart become lighter, and happier when he smiled. Vegita suddenly felt
like laughing out loud, just because of one small smile. He glanced around a little,
hoping no one caught him smiling. He scowled quickly at the small bird that was sitting on
the branch by the window. He shook his head, and caught himself smiling again. It felt so
good, just to display happiness like that.
Trunks and Vegita stayed by the window, oblivious to their surroundings. Just sharing a
tiny moment of father-son bondage. They watched the sunrise together, acting as any normal
human father and son would. This would be the only time Vegita would ever hold his son, or
dare to hug him.
Both cherished the moment well. All the hatred and pain in Vegita's heart melted that
morning. The morning when Trunks, and Vegita, father, and son, sat, and finally understood

each other. The End

Usual babble: Ok! It's done! It's over! I actually wanted to make this fanfic short and
funny, as in Vegita electrocuting himself, and other goofy things. Apparently it didn't
work out that way. It
takes a good look deep inside Vegita's messed up little mind. Oh well, its not meant to be
long and compassionate, but I think it turned out pretty good. I was pretty depressed when
I wrote this, so if it disturbs you or offends you in some way, I'm sorry. I think I
overdid the brutal killing part...oh well...full moons can do that you know! ^.^ Hopefully,
I'll be writing a short fanfic about that special place Vegita took Bulma, except in
detail. Well, tell me what you think about this fanfic.