Okay, you are going to kill me aren't you? You are sitting there staring at this wondering if you should even bother reading another of my stories after I have failed to update for the past few weeks. Yes, my bad, but this is a prompt challenge for the LiveJournal I am apart of. The challenge is to use Christmas prompts to write one whole story and there are going to be 24 prompts, so hopefully I can wrap it up in twenty-four chapters or less. Hopefully 24 chapters. that is my goal and I have till January 7th. I have no PS3 or PS2 since I am going to visit my family in another state, so no video games to distract me. Sigh.
At least I'm not stuck in a hotel anymore due to flooding at my apartment at my university... at least they paid for it for three weeks! Gosh, I thought I would begin to crawl up the walls in sheer boredom. There was no inspiration and a ton of homework and the only good channels on tv was nick and sometimes cartoon network (Has anyone else noticed the severe drop of good cartoons?) So it was either watch Avatar the last Airbender for the umptenth time or stare at the wall... and imagine doing so for three weeks...
Sorry, a little frustrated. So, here is the new story with a huge twist.
It is playing off the idea if Vegeta came to planet earth at a much younger age, before the first Dragonball hunt... How would it change things? How would it change him? Bulma? Goku? Puar? Yamcha? So, let me set up the ages because it will be getting a little confusing at first. Vegeta is 16 and Bulma is 15 when it all first starts.
This prompt is Lights.
This is all experimental and feedback is wonderful, tell me what you really think.
Read and enjoy.
If there was one thing Vegeta could remember about his childhood, it had to be the lights that would décor the halls at the change of the season. His mother had been raised by her sire to become a great priestess, however, it changed the moment that his father had laid eyes on her. He was often told by Nappa that there had been an instant connection between the two.
"Your mother was the only one who could get his Majesty to 'lighten up'." Nappa had once told him.
Vegeta, even as a small child, had believed it. His mother had an air around her that made even his usually stiff and unmovable father relax his shoulders and laugh heartily at his mate's antics. His mother was a free-spirit who not even his father could tame. She came and did as she pleased, when she pleased.
Spoiled would often be the word thrown at her by his father's brothers and sisters, but she would laugh at their faces and accuse them of being the same thing. She was right, so usually it made them back off.
The lights had been her thing. She said that the changing of the seasons allowed the barriers of physical plane and spiritual to weaken, allowing those with the right eyes the sight to see the lingering ki of past life. The lights were made of her ki as she lit each glass like globe and hung them about the castle, trying to catch the glimpses of the lingering ki of the dead that they would no doubt attract.
He had seen it, the ki that flickered in and out of the physical plane, on several occasions, always running to his mother to show her of his discovery. The two would then sit and watch as the ki of the dead danced about the lights, enjoying the offering of energy and solace before disappearing forever.
No one but his mother, himself, his little brother Tarble, and a few others could even see such a wondrous spectacle and he felt pity for what they were missing. Even Nappa could never see the ki and it made him as a child sad that his mother's oldest friend couldn't see such beautiful lights as the dead ki danced happily in one last dedication to their beloved planet before leaving forever to be with its soul in the Garden of Eden with goddess Evangeline Vegiit.
His best memory of Vegeta-sei was sitting in his mother's lap as they sat on the floor of the ballroom watching as the ki of at least twenty dead souls danced around the room in an amazing spectacle, Tarble ooh-ing and ahh-ing as he clapped his hands constantly, glancing at his brother to make sure he was enjoying it too. Their father in the corner, pretending to be inpatient as he watched his children and mate happily watch what was unseen by his own eyes.
To say that his life hadn't been shattered when he discovered that meteorites had wiped out his entire planet would be an awfully bad understatement. His heart felt ripped from his chest and stomped upon, but he did his best to swallow the bile that had raised in his throat and utter the words "I don't care" while forcing his snack into his mouth when he would have rather starved himself.
He pretended not to see the kit lights if he did. The dull ache would still pang in his heart uncomfortably. He had hoped to fade with his men into the large army that was Freiza's army, but unfortunately, that was not so. And sometimes seeing those lights were the only thing that pulled him through.
Faint sounds, muffled voices. The sound of his lungs drowning in blood in his ears. It almost seemed like a dream, but the constant pain kept him grounded in reality.
His right eye hurt. A lot.
He coughed up a few globs of blood, wheezing for air.
The persecutor was gone for now, leaving him to wallow in his pain, but he would not cry, he would not snivel, he would not do any they wanted him to do. He hated his small size, it was shameful and disgusting to be so small at his age. He should have grown by now.
Something touched him, making him jolt and look around in the haze. A mind touched his tentatively as if seeing if he lived.
His dialect, not the pathetic standard they all were forced to speak.
He tried to focus, but he could not.
Out and in.
In and out.
Out and in.
His wrists were free and his legs dangled loosely in the secure hold he was in.
In and out.
Out and in.
Someone was gently placing him somewhere to sit. His ribs tried to retaliate, but there was nothing he could do. Soon after the spray of the hibernation gas finally put him to sleep.
May Evangeline Vegiit smile upon his destiny and guide him to a place he could heal. Hopefully he survived planet fall.
It had to be the discovery of the century! It was amazing to even suggest that the concept was real. All her life, she had been told it was impossible, but the evidence was right there in front of her. However, she almost pouted, this was one discovery that her family would never take credit for, let alone mention to others.
For what troubles would follow if the world knew of the existence of aliens?
Fading lavender fringes where pulled away from her sapphire blue eyes. Her poppa had her same hair color, but always reminded her that the females in the his family's hair always turned a ocean blue. It was already happening to her, her once childish lavender locks fading and slowly becoming a brilliant blue.
And who was she? Well she was Bulma Briefs, heir to the small corporation known as Capsule Corps. Her family was rich, but she knew that her father's company could become much, much more.
This alien could be the rise to fame, but her father had used a gag contract to keep his existence from leaking out. Anyone who squealed even a sound of his existence would be charged with treason to the company, sued for more than they were worth, and would never find another job as long as Capsule Corps existed.
And Bulma could not blame her father's kindheartedness. She gently touched the small hand of the alien. The skin was an olive toned color that tanned beautifully, even though it currently was blotched looking with sickly yellow, blue, and purple bruises, and was callused in places like his palms, but it felt just like a human's skin texture. This alien had already been through so much and that had been way before he even got to Earth.
She dared to glance at his face, tubes being shoved through his noise, down his throat, and anywhere else they could be placed to keep him alive. The poor boy had been in bad condition when his pod had crashed and it had surprised her family, who had been out in a meadow for a rare family picnic, that he had managed to stand for a good five minutes before crashing to the ground unconscious.
She glanced at the sterile white eye patch, shivering at the memory of his eye hanging out of its socket, like it had been purposely ripped out. They had to change the eye patch at times for his eye, which they managed to put back in, wept blood from time to time. Her father said that might never go away, but would only happen on rare, stressful occasions. His ribs had been sticking out in a sick way while some looked like they pierced his internal organs and his some intestines ready to spill from his gut. His fingers hadn't even looked straight, all crooked and wrong. Broken jaw, dislocated joints, broken and fractured bones, pulled and torn muscles, lacerations, white scar tissue from long time abuse, and… Bulma pulled herself from the memory, almost in tears at the cruel condition he had come to them in.
The doctors said he was making a marvelous recovery, but the only problem was they couldn't dislodge the device welded around his neck without killing him. They didn't know what it did, but from what they guessed, it kept him weak and frail. The poor body looked like that of a small child and the doctors said he would be very frail and sickly, especially since there was a unknown poison running through his veins that kept most of his white blood cells from attacking incoming infection and viruses. There was no antidote on Earth. Colds and fevers would keep him in bed for weeks where it usually would only keep someone in bed for a day or two.
Bulma looked watery eyed. Who could do this to a child? He looked like any normal human child, save the tail was attached to his spine via the tailbone. The removal of the tail would paralyze him, so it remained since he had suffered enough.
She had been coming in here since she had met him. Barely able to stand, but so much pride in that single black eye that remained in its socket. He had walked out of that ship, to them, before evaluating them and falling unconscious. That look kept her coming back. Kept her curious about the small child that rested in the bed, fighting for his life. The moment her blue eyes laid upon his black one there had been a connection of the soul. And while Bulma usually was a skeptic at such ideas, she couldn't deny the sudden connection at that moment and the feeling of lingering close by and protecting his prone, weakened body.
A kindred spirit. She had not known him long, but she almost sense he was a lot like her. Maybe that's what made her wish to remain around him even more.
Bulma jumped lightly at the sudden grasp of her hand. It was strong, but not painful, like she sensed it had been intended to be. Her hand that had been touching his small hand was now grasped in his. Her eyes darted up to his good eye and noticed the dark glare she received. The tension around him was thick, and though he was not lucid, she could almost feel his fear and confusion.
"Hi," She whispered, sitting on the bed to get closer to his face, "My name is Bulma Briefs. You are on planet Earth." Her voice caught for a moment before she continued, his eye on her and despite all the tubes shoved down his nose and throat he look dignified, "My family found you and you're now receiving medical attention."
She almost jumped when she felt something, not physical but more spiritual, touch her mind. Frieza?
Her face scrunched, and she guessed the best as she could, "I don't know anyone or anything by that name. Or is that a word from your language?"
Images flashed through her mind, but the feeling that she got was Frieza was a person… or an alien. Pink and white lizard like monster that made her stomach lurch at the way the image looked at her with the promise of pain or suffering. The feelings that this one had for him were dark and hostile and perhaps fearful. She gleamed as much from the picture of the twisted being that he was not good.
"No. There is no one here by that name. My planet isn't very space travel savvy yet," She told him, "Yet anyways. My father is smart enough to design working space crafts, but my planet isn't ready for that."
She suddenly got the sense that he felt she talked too much. "Do you even understand what I'm saying?"
His stare told her that he could guess, but didn't know exactly.
She sighed, so much for that conversation, though she was absolutely giddy at the idea of telepathic abilities. Think of all the things one could do with such gifts. Before, however, she got carried away with that tangent, she thought of something important.
"What's your name?"
It came softly, but she could tell he was answering her question correctly. Vegeta.
With that, his eye drooped and soon he was asleep again, still holding on to her hand as he did. She smiled, lightly pushing his bangs out of his face in a tender caress.
"Sleep well, Vegeta." She smiled, giving the little child a tender kiss on the forehead before heading to her father to report what she had learned about their guest.