My first DBZ fic. Do not flame.

I stand leaning on the wall, watching him train. His movements are so graceful, so fluid, so deadly.

He changed so much. For the better, for the worse, I really don't know anymore. All I can do is remember how it was before. Before he went and lost his memory.

We were children, only eight years old. Your father came to talk to mine, and he brought you, your brother and your mother with him. I hid behind my father. He was angry with me for being such a coward. He pushed me forward and told me to stand straight, like a true prince. I looked at you and wondered what you did with your hair to make it so long and wild. You stared at me, head cocked then smiled. I still remember that smile, so wide and innocent. You still smile that way now. You introduced yourself and stuck out your hand proudly, as if it was one of the most important things you would ever do in your life. I just stared then asked my father if we could go play. He nodded and we went to my room. You were amazed by the things I had. You were amazed by everything, the size of my room, the softness of my bed… you ran straight to it with a happy shout and started to jump on it.

We went outside to the gardens and played. Such simple childish games, Hide and Seek, Catch… our favorite was make Pretend. Do you remember? We climbed and jumped from the trees, kicked and punched imaginary villains pretending to be the superheroes of the planet. We were an unbeatable team, you being the one with the immense strength and I being the one with unimaginable agility. The names we made up for each other… Kaka-man and Super-Geta. We really believed that we were invincible. We were Saiyans, weren't we? Conquerors of the universe. People would bow before us.

We played for hours, acting out our imaginary dream. We finally finished with the killing of Hyper-Radish and conquering of the last planet in the universe. Hyper-Radish. A mockery of your big brother's name. I never really understood why you hated him so much until later.

You got bored then. You wanted to know what else there was to do. I told you and you just dismissed it all with a wave of your hand and a scowl. We sat idly by a pond and watched the frogs swim. You pretended to be like a frog, bending your knees and leaping about, croaking and ribbeting and pulling a funny face, making your mouth stretch until it was a long thin line and making your eyes bulge forward. I laughed and joined you. We only stopped when our laughter was making it difficult for us to breathe. We sat back and that was when you had your idea. You turned and said my name. You were grinning, a slightly lopsided, wide, mischievous grin. You grabbed a frog and told me to follow.

We put frogs in my father's bed. Oh, I was punished so badly when my father found out but I just kept thinking that it was worth it every time I remembered the look of glee and mischief on your face when you imagined my father getting into that bed of slimy, croaking frogs. You kept telling me not to worry as we carried the slippery, hopping creatures in our arms, that I wouldn't get into trouble and it would be fun. We put the frogs into his bed and you laughed, eyes shining. All you could think of was how fun it was and how funny it would be.

We went back to the pond. You wanted to swim. I was about to go back to my room to get swimming clothes, but no, you didn't want that. You just laughed and called me a 'proper little prince' then stripped, right in front of me, then dove deep into the pond. I stood on the brim, watching worriedly. My parents had told me never to swim in the pond otherwise I might drown. I thought you were drowning. You were down there for so long and I was starting to get panicked. I kneeled down and stared into the deep blue. Then suddenly I saw your ebony black eyes, sparkling and your impish grin and before I knew it you leaped up, grabbed my neck and pulled me straight in. I yelped and floundered, my clothes restricting my movements and getting in my way. At first you just laughed but then you realized I was actually drowning, not pretending. Before I realized it you were carrying me with one hand, the other hand holding onto the edge of the pond and your tail busy taking off my clothes. You taught me how to swim then.

"Vegeta"

I start at his voice. He smiles at me, the same carefree, innocent smile he had before.

"Well are you going to stand there all morning or DO something?" you ask, cocking your head. I feel something inside and scowl to cover it up.

"I can do whatever I want to do," I say.

"Really? That's what you want to do? That looks boring. Want to spar?"

The feeling increases.

"Nnngh… Alright" I say and move into a fighting stance. He grins happily and I almost curse myself for letting him get his way. We stand as still as statues for a second, getting ready. Then suddenly his fist is flying toward my face. I dodge it quickly and attempt to grab his arm. He twists, trying to punch his fist into the side of my head. As he tries to regain his balance I duck low onto my hands and whirl myself around, attempting to kick the backs of his knees to trip him up. He jumps and lands lightly on the balls of his feet. I throw a lightning-fast punch at his face. He dodges the same way I did. I don't react quickly enough and he catches hold of my forearm. Twisting quickly he bends over, slinging me onto his back so I can't reach the floor and hurls me face first onto the soft ground. I get up and wipe the dirt from my face, spitting the soil from my lips, embarrassed at being caught from such a childish maneuver.

"So you know how to swim now," you said, grinning. I nodded, pleased at myself. We sat dangling our feet lazily into the pond, naked to the flesh. I felt somewhat uneasy about it but you didn't seem to care, so I didn't either. You suddenly jumped up.

"I know what we can do!" you said excitedly.

"What?"

"Want to spar?"

I felt confused. "What's 'spar'?"

You smiled importantly. "My daddy said it was like fighting, just using hands and feet and stuff, no weapons"

I blinked.

"So?" you asked impatiently.

"I never played spar before" I said a little nervously.

"So what? Me either!" you said cheerfully.

I got up. "Okay… shouldn't we put our clothes on first? My father will be angry if I get sick"

You waved your hand dismissively and told me that true fighters didn't care how they fought and besides, my clothes were still wet. I was still unsure. You sighed impatiently then tossed your own clothes at me. I put them on then asked how we started. You smiled then. You demonstrated a series of wild kicks and punches then told me I could hit you first. I threw a punch half-heartedly and felt a sudden painful shock on my arm as you whacked your arm against mine to deflect it. I think that was the first time I felt truly 'Saiyan'. I think you felt it too, that feeling when your blood starts pumping heatedly, when you feel your hair rise on your neck, when your body practically crackles with energy. I tore forward and slammed my fist into your face. Stunned, you staggered back then grinned and retaliated. We fought for an hour. I lost. Badly. When we finally stopped you grinned and said how fun it had been. I wasn't even listening. Hoping to catch you off balance I attempted to punch at your face. You grabbed my arm and hurled me over your shoulder effortlessly then you laughed at me as I sat, fuming and humiliated on the ground.

"Ah, don't get mad, you'll beat me… someday!" you said to me. I got up.

"Vegeta? Vegeta?"

I snap back to reality. "What is it?" I snap. He laughs.

"You're not mad, are you? You'll beat me someday!" he says cheerfully, not knowing that he said the same thing so long ago. There's a twang in my heart and a sting on my wrist.

"Kha'ir" I murmur.

"Today was the best day of my life," you said, sitting on the grass. I smiled and agreed, staring up at the sky in my now damp clothes. You sprang up.

"We should be brothers!" you said. I looked at you curiously. You held out your wrist to me.

"Scratch me" you said. I was completely confused.

"What?" I said. You repeated yourself. I scratched you lightly.

"Harder! I have to bleed!" you said.

"But…"

"Scratch!"

So I obliged. With one quick flick I tore open the soft skin with my thumbnail. You winced then grinned and clapped your hand over the wound.

"Now it's your turn" you said and before I could protest my wrist was cut and bleeding. You held my wound to yours.

"Kha'ir" you said, using the Saiyan word. "Brothers"

I felt the tingle of energy rush through my arm, course through my body. You took your hand away, licking at the blood.

"It's done" you said, smiling your wide, infectious smile at me. "We're brothers. And we'll always stay together, whether conquering worlds or if sick in bed. We'll always be friends forever… won't we?"

Kha'ir. We never knew the true, deep meaning of it. To call someone your Kha'ir is the highest form of respect. It's when you have a tie connecting the two. It's almost the same as a brother, but different. You trust your Kha'ir with your life, with any secrets you have. You respect your Kha'ir and love him or her with all your heart. You and your Kha'ir are never to be separated.

"Are you really going to Earth?" I asked.

"Yeah… who told you?"

"You did. Yesterday"

"Did I?" you asked, laughing and scratching your head. "I forgot"

"Are you going to come back?"

"Of course I am baka! Why wouldn't I?"

"You can get killed…"

"Me? Get killed? Hah! Don't worry; my dad told me this 'Earth' was only a minor planet. The people on it are really weak. I'll only take about two days, a week at most. I'll be right back"

"And besides," you said, grinning cheekily, "I'm the mighty Kaka-man… remember?"

I had to smile at that.

Two years and nothing about you had changed. You were still the same, cheeky, mischievous, wild eight-year old that you were two years ago.

I had, by this age, met others my age, but none the same as you. You were so different from all of them. All the rest, they were so stuffy with their high-and-mighty attitudes… and the ones that didn't have such an attitude were always bowing and talking to me like I was superior and if they said something wrong I would kill them. You treated me like I was normal; that the fact that I was the prince didn't matter a bit. You didn't care about getting your clothes dirty or torn, you didn't care about what other people thought of you, you didn't care about whether what you were doing was going to hurt you or not, all you wanted to do is have fun. You were wild, funny, truthful, impulsive and simple. Just being with you made me happy that I could get away from my palace life.

I didn't want you to go.

"I'll miss you too," you said, almost reading my mind. We exchanged smiles, but I guess I didn't look too happy.

"Hey, cheer up, there's nothing sad about this! It's just a little trip… like I said, I'll be right back!"

"Yes" I said, looking at my feet.

You looked serious then. "Kha'ir" you said. I looked up and for the first time, I saw a different smile. Not the one that was practically your trademark. You smiled in a kind and caring way.

"I'll be back," you said, and this time I believed you.

He rubs his wrist then pauses.

"What did you say?" he asks.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. I waited so long for you to return, and in the end I simply gave it up and decided you were dead. It didn't seem so bad, not as bad as it would have been years earlier. I had simply forgotten you.

I guess it was destined that we would meet again. Radditz, Nappa and I were on a ship on another planet when our planet exploded, killing everyone else I had ever known and making us the three last live Saiyans in the universe.

The last? No, there was one more. When Radditz told us that he wanted to go to Earth I felt the pain in my wrist again and I finally realized what it was, after all those years. My Khi'a. Radditz said he was going to try and locate you then destroy the planet. Nappa and I agreed but decided to stay on the planet we were on.

I felt nervous. My wrist was hurting… that meant my Kha'ir was alive. That you were alive. I would finally see you again… I had so many questions to ask. Why did you leave for so long? How were you? Had you forgotten me, same as how I had forgotten you?

"Hello? Vegeta?" he asks, waving his hand slightly in my face.

When I heard that you had killed Radditz I knew you had forgotten. The pains in my wrist stopped and I also knew that you had died. With a dead feeling in my heart I went to Earth with Nappa, to finish the job you started so long ago. We met your friends, the baldie, the one with three eyes, the little doll and the green one. We met your son. I was shocked when I first knew… you had a son? With an HUMAN?

We fought them. Well, Nappa fought them. You should have heard them scream for you.

Your son reached a power level of 2800. I admit I was impressed.

We beat them. We beat them all until they were bloody and bruised. Nappa was about to kill your son, when you came in.

I almost didn't recognize you, and when I did, it took all I had to keep my facial expression same as it was. You changed. A lot.

Yet you looked the same. You had obviously been training and had grown a lot taller, much taller than I was in fact, but there was just something about your face even though you were frowning, from your confident, powerful stance and the way your hair stuck out from your head, shorter than I remembered it but still as wild as ever. Maybe it just looked shorter because your body had finally grown in proportion. I remember how you were always shorter than I was before.

Did you feel it too, when we fought? The pain in the wrist… almost unbearable. If you did, you didn't show it… so neither did I.

"VEGETA!" he hollers.

"What?" I ask, snapping out of my trance.

"Thank Kami. I thought I had knocked you senseless just then"

I stand up, scoffing. "As if. Really Kakarrot, you always think so highly of yourself"

He cocks his head. "You know Vegeta, you keep calling me that. You're the only one who does. My human name is Goku; can't you just call me that instead?"

I pause. "No"

"Why?" he asks.

"Because… because Kakarrot is your real name. Your Saiyan name"

"But I'm not Saiyan now… well, not really, I mean I AM, but not really Saiyan. I live on Earth now"

I feel a lump in my throat and a pull in my heart. My wrist stings, and so does his. He rubs his wrist again absentmindedly. I smile wryly.

"Whatever you say… Kaka-man" I say softly. He stares at me.

"What?"

My wrist stings even more. "Kha'ir" I say.

"You said that just now, what does it mean?" he asks curiously.

"Kha'ir is… it's… you know that pain in your wrist?"

He looks at his wrist, surprised. "Well, I suppose it DOES hurt every now and then…"

"Kha'ir is when two people… they have a bond of friendship… it's a very strong bond, more a bond where they are past being even siblings and love and respect each other so much"

He looks confused. "So then how is it performed?"

I swallow down the feeling in my heart. "Two people can perform it by making a wound in their skin and pressing the wounds to each other… the blood is exchanged, and a part of the person's soul, their energy, their being goes into the other person. A person's Kha'ir cannot be separated from them, if they are it will be destiny that they will meet again"

"Oh" he says. He stares at his wrist. "I wonder who my Kha'ir is? I don't remember performing this ritual"

My wrist starts hurting really badly and I put my hand behind my back. He winces slightly and starts rubbing.

"Of course you don't, you baka. You lost every memory of your life that was before you bumped your head"

"Oh yeah" he grins sheepishly. He rubs his wrist. "Why does it hurt?"

I pause then turn to walk away. "That means that your Kha'ir is still alive and still cares" I say over my shoulder.

"Oh" he says and looks, puzzled, at his hand. I smirk.

"And, of course, only pureblood Saiyans can properly perform the Kha'ir ritual…" I say quietly then leave him to figure it out himself.

A/N: I will now say that when the anime came out on TV ten years ago I did not understand what they were saying because it was dubbed in Chinese and my Chinese was pathetic. All the information I get is from mangas, which I have started to collect and read only two months ago. These mangas are in Chinese. My Chinese now is only marginally better than it was before.

Kha'ir doesn't mean anything. Actually, I just got it from a Dragonlance magic spell and changed it a little. I know neither Goku or Vegeta have a pain in their wrist. I can make things up, can't I? ^^

If I've got anything wrong I don't mind if you tell me. Just DON'T tell me that I got Vegeta's whole personality wrong.

Flamers shall be hunted down and gutted with a pink plastic party knife.