A Look Into the Past
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
helps...here, 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
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
"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
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
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.
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