Disclaimer: DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama.
Between Goku's death and the Budokai seven years later, his son, Goten, is best friend's with little Trunks. The two boys are practically inseparable, almost brothers. Since they've obviously spent so much time together, it's obvious to me that Vejiita would have been seeing a lot of both of them. So, what do Goten and Vejiita think of each other? Goten calls Vejiita 'Vejiita-ojisan', Uncle Vejiita, and hasn't gotten his head blown off yet, and the boys haven't been banned from each other's presence. The story below was written as an exploration of how I see the relationship between the cold Saiyajin Prince and the cutest character in DBZ.
For clarification purposes, Goten hasn't gone Super Saiyajin yet, and he's never been invited to train or spar with Vejiita before, so he's probably around four. Sorry if his point of view narration uses words too large for a four-year-old, just bare with. :)
Trunks is snoring. It's kinda hard to think with that noise so close by. I wonder why I woke up, but then my stomach rumbles and I decide sneaking a midnight snack is more important. Carefully I stand up and sneak over to the door, avoiding stepping on any of Trunks's limbs. He sprawls everywhere when he sleeps.
The door is already ajar, so I push it open and steal out into the hallway, quietly padding down the corridors and stairs towards the kitchen. Once there I snap on a light, startling a security robot. It quickly identifies me, though, and scurries off to somewhere else. The security robots are funny. They always seem to panic when something happens. I'd tease them more often, but they blow up really easy too.
I open the refrigerator and peer inside, finding some bread. Deciding to make an easy sandwich, since it's late and I can't make that many types of sandwich anyway, I put the bread on the table and go find the butter and some chocolate spread. It's fun, really, to make sandwiches. You put the bread on the table, then use a knife to put some butter on it. Then you scoop out a big bit of chocolate on your knife and put it on the bread. Nan-Bulma uses the knife to spread it around. Actually, she doesn't put butter on the bread when she uses the chocolate, but I like both. I use my fingers to spread it around, because then I can lick them clean.
After I finish eating all the bread I throw away the wrapper and put the knife in the sink for Nan-Bulma or one of her robots. Then I put the butter away. I climb onto one of the benches to put the chocolate spread away, when a voice interrupts me.
"Since you've stuck your fingers in that, you may as well keep it."
I look around. Vejiita-ojisan is standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed, looking back at me. I smile and greet him.
He makes a noise in acknowledgment. "What are you doing up?" He asks me.
"I just woke up, and Trunks is noisy, so I came down to get something to eat," I obediently list off all the reasons why I'm awake and in the kitchen. I notice that Vejiita is in his training clothes. "Are you finished training, Vejiita-ojisan?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Hardly. I'm about to start."
"Huh?" I ask as I close the cupboard and jump off the bench, landing lightly on the floor.
"It's morning, not night," He growls. I frown.
"Oh," I say, moving my head to the side to think clearer. For some reason, that helps me. I think it's because people see me move and know that I'm thinking, so they give me time instead of continuing to talk. I straighten up and walk forward, preparing to skirt around Vejiita-ojisan if he doesn't move.
"Where are you going, brat?" He asks, a familiar tone of menace in his voice.
"Back to bed?" I ask instead of answering, in case he disapproves. I like it better when Vejiita-ojisan corrects me then when he demands I change my plans. Kaasan tells me Vejiita-ojisan is nothing like my tousan, but Vejiita-ojisan is the only tousan I see regularly, so I often watch him. He's a fighter, too. He likes to fight more than Gohan-niisan. I think privately that Vejiita-ojisan is a better fighter, even if Gohan-niisan is more powerful. I don't know if I should ever tell anyone that, though. I don't like getting people angry with me, and Vejiita-ojisan gets mad very easily. Besides, Gohan-niisan might be upset, and Kaasan might tell me to stop going to Trunks's house. Nan-Bulma would probably laugh about it, though. Most of the time she's in a good mood, at least for me and Trunks.
"What for?" Vejiita-ojisan glares down at me. It's scary sometimes, when I know I've done something bad or annoying, but I don't think I've done anything like that this morning, so I just stare back.
"Uh... to sleep?" I try.
"Haven't you wasted enough time sleeping?" He raises an eyebrow. I think about it, wondering what the right answer is.
"Um, yes," I answer, although I'm not sure what to do if I don't go back to sleep. Maybe I could find something else to eat. He's quiet, for a while, so I try not to fidget. Vejiita-ojisan will let me know when's he finished talking to me, probably by walking off, or moving so I can pass. Vejiita-ojisan often talks without saying anything. Nan-Bulma does a bit too, especially when she and Vejiita-ojisan are together.
He seems to be measuring me, so I stand a bit straighter, and put on a determined face. Trunks teases me that my face often has a dumb expression on it, and I don't want to seem dumb to Vejiita-ojisan. I hear the sound of soft footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Vejiita-ojisan must have too, but he hasn't moved.
"Your brother has been training you, hasn't he," Vejiita-ojisan says in a bored tone.
"Yes!" I exclaim, excited that he knows.
"Let's see how good a job he's been doing," Vejiita-ojisan says, and walks forward past me, glancing at me as he passes to tell me to follow him. I do, wondering what's up.
"Goten, what are you doing up so early?" Nan-Bulma's voice calls out behind me.
"Eating!" I call over my shoulder to her, then hurry to catch up with Vejiita-ojisan. We leave the house and walk over to the gravity room, and I can't help feeling nervous. I've seen Vejiita-ojisan fight, of course. I've watched him spar with Gohan and Trunks, although with Trunks it's a lot more boring, but he's never sparred with me.
Nan-Bulma follows us. "Vejiita," She calls softly. "If you're going to rough Goten up, you make sure he'll be okay for school today."
Vejiita-ojisan snorts. "As if one day will make a difference."
Nan-Bulma is scowling. I throw her a pleading look. I don't want Vejiita-ojisan to change his mind. She sees me, and her face changes. She sighs and shakes her head, then walks inside.
Vejiita-ojisan is scowling at me through the door. I smile at him and run inside, ready to show him how well I've learnt to fight.
There's already someone in the kitchen. Can't be Bulma, so it must be one of the brats. The robots don't turn lights on, nor do they make 'clatter' sounds. I stalk to the doorway, peering inside from my spot in the shadows, pushing my Ki down further than normal.
Son Goten. By himself, not with my brat for once, but he's eating my food. Hmm, Bulma would be scolding him by now if she was here: he's been putting his hand in that chocolate stuff, I can see the stains on his fingers. Apparently I'm just in time for the finale. He finishes the last of the loaf, and gets the closest thing to a thoughtful look that could ever grace those features. His father's face.
Then the brat starts to clean up after himself. Bulma would be thrilled. So would the brat's mother. Proves how dumb the brat is. He never cleans up when they're around, just when they're not.
He's about to put back that chocolate spread stuff he's had his hands in back in the cupboard.
"Since you've stuck your fingers in that, you may as well keep it," I say, stepping forward into the kitchen.
His head whips around, his father's classical surprised look etched onto his face. He sees me and breaks into his father's stupid grin.
"Hello, Vejiita-ojisan!" He exclaims, apparently delighted by my presence.
"Hn," I respond. "What are you doing up?"
"I just woke up, and Trunks is noisy, so I came down to get something to eat," He says, then looks down from my face, noting my attire. "Are you finished training, Vejiita-ojisan?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Hardly." The child must have no sense of time whatsoever. "I'm about to start."
"Huh?" Those wide eyes that gaze up at me in confusion make me grit my teeth. At least Kakarott could put two concepts together in his head and draw a conclusion. Most of the time, anyway. How did he manage to get brats that resemble him so much? Especially this one. It's impossible to see him without being reminded of his father - without comparing him to his father.
"It's morning, not night," I inform him, letting my displeasure show.
"Oh," He says as he cocks his head to the side and frowns, trying out the idea in whatever passes for his brain. He gets up and walks towards me, stepping a bit further to one side to get ready to duck past me. He's as open as his father, certainly. Much too trusting, too ready to believe what people tell him. I block his path.
"Where are you going, brat?" I sneer at him, wondering if, like his father and brother, he has a snapping point.
"Back to bed?" He asks me. Asks me. A Saiyajin warrior would have stated his destination in a polite tone, due my status, but would not have asked me.
"What for?" I narrow my eyes, daring him to answer me properly. He stares back, his eyes worried.
"Uh... to sleep?"
Another question. Kakarott would not have asked me what he was doing. Why does his brat have this infuriating habit?
"Haven't you wasted enough time sleeping?" If he answers this with a question I will take him to the training room and beat some sense into his head, those over-protective women be damned.
He's obviously thinking about it. Unlike Kakarott, he hasn't got that frustrating habit of babbling half-syllables while his brain tries to work.
"Um, yes," He answers finally, looking pleased with himself. He should be, he managed to answer a question. Sometimes I wonder if the rest of the Saiyajin were this thick. I really don't remember them all that well. After all, I rarely spoke to any low-class ones, and then they were all dead. If they were anything like Kakarott and his youngest brat, it's amazing we managed to survive as long as we did.
Footsteps... Bulma's footsteps. The woman must have decided to get up. She always gets sentimental when she's thinking about Goten. She starts on about how much he's like Kakarott. As if I need her to point out the similarities and differences.
I wonder, though, just how much Goten is like his father. Kakarott was a good fighter, and apparently Gohan has been training this one. Gohan would probably be better than his sire, if only he had a warrior's heart. What a waste of incredible power.
"Your brother has been training you, hasn't he?" I ask, wondering how often that goodie-two-shoes Great Saiyaman - I still have to beat him up again for picking that name, I told him to change it - has actually bothered to train the brat.
"Yes!" The aforementioned one yells in that stupid high-pitched voice common in his family. He seems excited though. Maybe it's a good sign.
"Let's see how good a job he's been doing," I say, walking past him, casting a glance at him to make sure he understands he is to follow me. At least Kakarott could understand a challenge, no matter how much fluff it was buried under.
I hear my mate calling after him. I doubt she's seen me yet. The brat replies and runs after me, falling into step behind. I open the doors and walk in, then over to the controls and begin to set them. The brat better be able to stand up under 10 Gs. Trunks can take 40, since that woman keeps insisting he does homework and plays instead of training. He should be much higher than that.
"Vejiita," She calls to me. "If you're going to rough Goten up, you make sure he'll be okay for school today."
I snort. As if any amount of school will help Kakarott's son. Just because Gohan developed an interest in that stuff doesn't mean this one will. Besides, Gohan was showing more intelligence then Goten does now when I met him on Namek, and he was younger than this. "As if one day will make a difference," I reply.
I turn around, glaring at the brat. He grins at me, his father's stupid, air-headed, happy grin, and runs inside, enthusiasm practically radiating from him. Perhaps there's hope for a good fight in a few years time. He may just be a Kakarott in miniature.
- Finis -
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