insert standard disclaimer here. I don't own Dragonball Z or any of the characters.

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"You're no better than Frieza! You despise him, but how many planets have you killed, Saiyajin no Ouji!"

My words echo between us for an infinitely long moment. Deep remorse floods through me the instant the last syllable falls from my lips, but there is no taking them back, even should my pride allow it. He flinches as though I have dealt a mortal blow, and I see that I have hurt him much more than I would have believed possible. The twin black mirrors of his soul shatter before my eyes, leaving only emptiness behind.

My whole being was set aflame with rage by the near murder of my closest friend, but the statement on his face is such that the fire is instantly extinguished, as though I have been plunged deep into the embrace of frigid water. Indeed, it feels as if its icy depths have closed over my head and I am plummeting toward nothingness. My skin has gone numb, and I struggle to breathe. Despair chokes me. What have I done? He allowed me the tiniest glimpse of his deepest sorrow and I have thrown it back in his face.

I remind myself that he almost killed Yamucha, in an effort to recollect my anger, but it is of no use. I love him, and his pain is as tangible to me as my own. The enormity of his raw, silent anguish threatens to crush me and I loathe myself for causing it. I cover my mouth with a shaking hand, and reach out to him with the other. But he has already turned away, not looking back as he leaves the ground, and me.

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Her words are so terrible because they are true.

She must surely hate me now, for almost killing that pathetic human -- and I have harmed her. Every mark I left on her person was instantly committed to memory; I can never forget. Even now I see her: defenseless, weak, not half a day from childbed. But so foolishly brave...In my fury, I nearly killed the only person who has dared to care about me, ever since I can remember.

I am no better than him.

But by far the worst thing was her eyes. That unspoken emotion which illuminated their depths under my gaze had vanished, replaced by a glacial fury as different as night and day from the fiery outrage I am accustomed to when facing her wrath. I am in agony; it feels as if my heart has burst within my chest, spreading the poisonous ache through my entire being. I have to escape this place, and this time just leaving the area isn't enough. I have to get off of this wretched planet. The only comprehensible thought in my mind is that I have to get as far away from her as possible.

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I can't believe I'm still alive. I'll never know how she moved so quickly, or how he reacted in time to avoid killing us both. My arm throbs, but I move to wrap the other one around Bulma, who has collapsed, sobbing, at my side.

She throws her arms around me, taking care even in her misery to avoid jarring my injured limb. She cries into my chest, and I try to give what comfort I can.

She quiets, looking up at me, and says, "Oh Yamucha, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault--"

I place a finger on her lips. "No, angel, it isn't." Somehow, I stand up, and offer her my good hand. She makes the effort to rise, but doesn't make it the first time. Her face is white with pain, and she has one arm held tightly against her side. I realize for the first time that she is injured as well, and silently utter a stream of curses directed at the departed Prince.

My tirade is half-hearted, though, because I saw the look on his face when she suddenly appeared between us. He was terrified that he would kill her. I don't want to admit it, but I am unable to dislodge from my mind the conviction that he does actually care for her.

As we walk, supporting each other, she begins to tell me of what transpired before I arrived: his return, and the birth of her child. I am rather skeptical of the gruff gentleness she describes in him, but refrain from voicing my opinion. She also tells me that his prolonged absence was due to a misunderstanding on his part about the nature of her relationship with me.

Before today, I would have gently chided her for her naiveté in swallowing a line like that. But witnessing that one instant in which his whole heart was written across his face has given her words the unmistakable ring of truth.

I shut my eyes tightly against the threat of tears. I know, now, that she will never again be mine. Her feelings for him run too deep -- all the way to the core. In her hour of need, it wasn't me that she wanted. Tormented sorrow lances through me so severely that I am unable to conceal it. Thankfully for my pride, she mistakes it for the pain of my injuries.

"Yamucha! Are you all right?" Her sapphire eyes are full of worried guilt. With a Herculean effort, I manage to smile a bit and nod. Knowing I have lost her is far worse than any agony ever inflicted upon me in combat.

But because I love her, I have to tell her the whole story. I can see that she is nearly being torn asunder by the conflict of anguished love and blinding hate for him. I want to lessen her pain as much as I am able, by letting her know that this wasn't all his fault...I provoked him beyond all possible endurance.

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How much guilt is it possible for one person to feel? Every time I think I have reached my limit, something else happens to push me to the next level. I turn from the swiftly fading spark in the sky that was the man to whom I have just said the worst thing possible, to find another whose unrequited love for me was very nearly the cause of his demise. He sits broken and bleeding on the ground, and still the only concern in his eyes is for me. I can't take any more, and I slide to the ground, weeping.

He once again moves to comfort me, stifling an agonized gasp of pain. My anger returns in full force, too late to be of any use. Vegeta was not satisfied simply to defeat and humiliate Yamucha; he fully intended to kill him! How can I have fallen in love with someone so cold-blooded? How can he care so little for me that he would rob me of such a close friend, on my own front lawn?

Caught between choking anger and despairing tears, I spill my heart out to Yamucha, telling him everything. He surprises me then, by confessing the things he had said to provoke Vegeta. I am shocked; Yamucha has never been the type to launch such a vicious verbal assault. The barbs were perfectly aimed at the areas where the proud Saiyajin was most vulnerable, and it is no wonder he flew into such a rage. It doesn't excuse his actions, but it helps me to finally understand. Yamucha could not have guessed the full extent to which such attacks would damage Vegeta. I am perhaps the only one who could possibly have known just how deep the guilt and anguish run beneath his thin, protective veneer of pride.

And I knowingly used that knowledge to wound him as deeply as I could. How can I ever ask him to forgive something like that, assuming I ever see him again and have the chance to?

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I don't even know where it is that I finally end up. The computer does, and that is all that matters. The only thing I care about is that the planet is uninhabited and no one will bother me. I am free to train every waking moment until I collapse from exhaustion, too spent for thought. An immeasurable amount of time passes this way, in the endless cycle of sleep and exertion. I sometimes even forget to eat.

Eventually, however, it all catches up to me. One cold midnight, I lie in the dark, too tired to move, yet sleep eludes me. Her words reverberate inside my skull until I can actually feel my sanity slipping away...

I have killed countless numbers of sentient beings, all without regret. Entire solar systems fell by my hand. Even though I hated being Frieza's lackey, I reveled in the power and fear it afforded me. But now, thinking now of the things I've done is no longer a source of pride. It almost sickens me. Which is strange, since I don't recall changing. I feel the same.

Can I live with the damage I have done? There is no way to make up for it. If I could go back, would I change my actions?

No, I don't think so...after all, they have made me what I am now. Where would I be otherwise? I would never have learned the meaning of...regret. Certainly none of the 'teachers' of my youth would have impressed it upon me.

Her comparison of me to him is the deepest betrayal possible. How could I ever have been so foolish as to let her inside my head? Why did I let simple lust overpower all reason, and entangle my brain forever with thoughts of her? For there is no doubt in my mind that she will never forgive me now. All the evidence necessary was in my last glimpse of those vivid blue eyes; any feeling for me in their ocean depths had been snuffed out like a candle by the force of her fury.

Pride has always been my only companion. It was the one thing they could not beat out of me then, and it continues to sustain me now. I am not one of those soft-hearted humans. I am the Saiyajin no Ouji; I don't need her, or anyone!

My hands ball into fists, fingernails cutting into my palms hard enough to draw blood. I will become a Super Saiyajin, and I will bring Kakarot to his knees before his Prince! They will all learn what true power is!--

A loud impact rocks the ship violently to one side, tossing me out of the narrow bed. Quickly, I scan the console display to pinpoint the source of this disturbance. A meteor shower is closing in fast -- a huge one. There is no chance of escape. Fear makes my blood run cold.

No! I will not die like this, unnoticed on an abandoned planet in the middle of nowhere! I throw open the hatch and start blasting away at the incoming rocks. It is almost enough, but there are too many; I will never destroy them all in time. After what seems like hours of barely holding them at bay, my power starts to wane, and I reach within myself for more, and more.

Desperation drives me to new heights. I cast away all of the mental barriers of self-preservation; I no longer have any concern over overloading and gathering more power than I can handle. The only other option is death. All thought is reduced to the primal need for survival. Within my flesh I now hold an amount of energy that should surely be the end of me, vaporizing every molecule, but somehow I contain it and seize even more.

I stand surrounded by wildly leaping flames of power, screaming as they seem to consume my entire being from the inside out. Death is imminent, but then something snaps within me, and suddenly I am the blaze. My vision sharpens, as if for my whole life up until this point I have been looking through a clouded glass. I can feel every hair on my body standing on end. Casting my arms wide, I release the energy into the midst of the storm and watch the threat fall away like so much dust. Without looking, I know that my hair has turned golden and my eyes the savage aqua of the Super Saiyajin. I laugh with exhilaration. Finally, I have come into my birthright!

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I time my breaths with the sound of my soft footfalls on the forest floor. Running is a small solace for me; the pain takes my mind off the ever-present ache in my heart. I have never wanted to take anything back as badly as that one sentence. I only hope that someday I can tell him I didn't mean it...

Which isn't likely to happen. I don't think he is even on this planet anymore. I don't know how I know, but it seems his distaste for me outweighs even his vendetta against Goku. I would never have thought such a thing possible.

Yamucha has fully recovered, much to my relief. But his exuberant demeanor is more subdued, and I mourn the change. I know that much of it resulted from relinquishing his impossible pursuit of me, for which I am glad. Continuing on with it would only pain us both. But it's still tragic to see the riotous colors of his ebullient nature fade like the bright foliage of autumn into the abysmal grey of winter.

Trunks is a happy, healthy baby. He is growing like a weed. His head is capped with soft lavender silk and his eyes are the exact shade of mine. He looks nothing like his father, except when he is angry, or determined. Then, the resemblance is so strong it brings tears to my eyes. I wonder if he will ever know the man who sired him.

Back at the house, I turn on the shower and let steam fill the room. Stripping out of my clothes, I gaze at myself in the mirror. I keep expecting the events of the past year to have somehow stamped their mark on my face, but to my continued amazement I look exactly the same. It's hard to believe I can feel so vastly different on the inside and yet my appearance has altered not at all.

The only visible reminder is a pale crescent of flesh at my neck, even more pallid than the white skin surrounding it. Touching it pricks a tiny dagger of pain into my heart and I catch my breath in a sob. The brief contact flashes before me a vision of his eyes as they were just on that one night, and the lingering afterimage of that passionate tenderness is unendurable.

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And then suddenly, we are out of time.

The day of arrival dawns bright and clear. My days in the lab have been unfruitful, but I have not yet thrown in the towel. I head out to meet the others, both to show off my son and to catch a glimpse of the androids, with the hope of fathoming something about their design that will allow me to unmake them.

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It is time they all see the true power of the Saiyajin race!

Kakarot now owes me his life, a welcome change. He is an idiot for not keeping that medicine on him after the warning he received. But no matter. I am more than capable of destroying these androids on my own, as I soon demonstrate on the first one.

The second is a bit more clever and manages to trick me into giving him energy. I graciously allow Piccolo his chance at #20, since I have already shown how little of a challenge they are for me.

Suddenly, that irritating whelp from the future appears next to me, and Piccolo calls him by my son's name!

Of course! I should have seen it earlier!

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Yajirobe and I follow the trail of smoke, to seek out the source. I need to get close enough to see them...

Without warning, the sky is lit up by a powerful blast and the ship spins out of my control in the aftermath. My only thought is for my baby. Trunks! I should never have brought him out here--

Time slows to a series of vague impressions: the screech of metal, a flash of purple, a pair of strong arms, the scent of male sweat. I find myself on the ground, shaken, but unhurt. My baby! My rescuer hands me the screaming child and I throw my arms around him in gratitude -- the kid from the future. He blushes, and I finally realize who he must be. It doesn't take a genius (which I am, by the way) to figure it out. 3 years ago, he said he was 17 years old and from 20 years in the future. His pale hair is the exact color as that of the child in my arms, and those same cerulean blue eyes stare back at me in the mirror every morning. And having Vegeta as a father would explain his Saiyajin abilities.

I smile at him, and touch his cheek. "Trunks. You saved us. Thank you..." Even though I am not much older than him, it is impossible not to feel motherly toward the man my son grows up to be.

He looks shocked, then grins and says, "I should have known you'd figure it out. I never have been able to hide anything from you for long." The smile disappears as he looks over my shoulder and clenches his fists in anger. He is faintly shaking with rage. I turn to see what he is looking at and he blasts off abruptly.

Vegeta?

He came back!-- I squelch the immediate, unconscious flood of disbelieving joy as my next thought forms.

He was here...he saw the ship fall, and he didn't try to save us.

He would have let us die.

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Fierce disappointment chokes me until I have to fight to inhale. The man I traveled so far to meet is a complete bastard. Insufferably arrogant and blinded by his own pride, he refuses to accept the possibility that the androids' power could be greater than his own.

But what kills me the most is his utter lack of concern for my mother and the baby I used to be. If I hadn't shown up...

I halt in front of him. "Vegeta! Why didn't you try to save them?"

He feigns confusion. "Save whom?"

His nonchalance infuriates me even further. "Bulma and YOUR SON!"

He snarls at me, "I have more important things to worry about than that foolish woman and her blasted child!"

Her child. Not his. It's amazing, as much as I hate him at this moment, how much power he still has to hurt me.

I grew up without a father; I spent so many wistful hours dreaming of a moment like this, seeing him face to face. The cruel reality of it nearly breaks me.

He flies up in my face and says, "Now get out of my way!", before taking off in pursuit of the escaping android. It only takes me a second of indecision to follow. Whatever kind of man he may be, I can't let my father die, again.

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End Chapter 9