Fandom: Dragonball Z
Publish Date: 8/30/2002
Disclaimer: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, I do not own DBZ.
Sweat runs down my face, into my eyes, dripping off my chin. I ignore it, focusing all of my attention on my imaginary opponents. The gravity is set at four hundred. Who knows how long I’ve been in here? I don’t really care. I must get stronger! I must beat…
Then I remember. Kakarott’s dead.
My arms slump to my sides and I slide to the floor, panting from exhertion. I must have been going at it for several hours now. No wonder I’m getting winded.
So much seems to be happening at once. First Kakarott gets himself blown up, then that demon that Kakarott called wife finds out she’s going to have another child…good gods. I already checked, though I didn’t tell anyone, and I’m certain that her child will be a son.
And then there’s Kakarott’s brat, Gohan. How the hell did that half-breed child manage to do what no one else—not even Kakarott himself—could accomplish? It makes no sense. But I know he blames himself. And though I’d never admit it, I think he’s being too hard on himself. That kid’s got enough problems without feeling guilty over his father’s death. And on top of everything else, a new sibling—a brother—on the way. I guess I kind of feel sorry for him. But I’ll never tell him that, of course. In the meantime, he’s been playing older brother to my son. Getting some practice, I guess. Trunks absolutely adores his ‘big brother’ Gohan.
I still have problems accepting the fact that I, the Prince of the Saiyan race, should fall into the debt of a low-class warrior. First he stopped Krillen from killing me the first time I landed here on Earth. Then he steps in for me on Namek. I died there. He survived. And he avenged our people by making the transformation to the legendary Super Saiyan and defeating Frieza. And to top it all off, he sacrifices his life at the Cell Games for the lives of his friends. For my life.
Most of Kakarott’s group is inside with Bulma right now. They’re all so sad. There’s too much sadness, too much emotion. That’s the reason I’ve been spending so much time out here. Everyone’s in mourning. I refuse to grieve over that third-class clown. He’s nothing.
That thought stirs me back to my training. I stand back up and being throwing punches at invisible adversaries again.
He is nothing…he is nothing…
So why does my training feel empty now? What am I working for?
There’s no one to beat.
My will to work disappears, and for the second time I slump to the floor again. Why in the name of Kami is this bothering me so much? My rival, the man I hated second only to Frieza, is gone. I’m the strongest now. And it feels so…
Did I really hate him? Or was it something else? Something like jealousy, perhaps?
Well, it doesn’t matter now. Kakarott’s gone. I’ll never get the chance to beat him.
Giving up on the training, I turn off the machine and open the door. The sky is getting darker, which means it’s early evening. There’s a cool breeze blowing in; it’s actually quite pleasant.
For some reason, I look up at the sky. And I smile.
This isn’t over, Kakarott.
I swear I’ll beat you someday, if I have to die and hunt you down in the Otherworld to do it!
I’ll beat you. I’ll get my chance
I just don’t know when.