Clarity {Dragonball Z Fanfiction}

Clarity

Humans, by contrast, seemed to let the emotion completely rule their lives. From adolescence onward, they foolishly pursued it with an immeasurable, savage passion. They dedicated themselves to one person for life through a ritual called marriage, they coddled their young for years, and they would lay down their lives to protect their families. Bulma's treatment of Trunks was the perfect example: Vegeta knew she would die a thousand deaths before allowing any kind of harm befall the boy. In comparison, he'd never lifted a finger to help either one of them when they were in danger, instead relying on others to do the work for him. He'd been too relentlessly wrapped up in a cocoon of his own violent obsessions to pay attention to the woman or his son.

But that had abruptly changed when he'd witnessed his son's older counterpart from the future be gruesomely killed by Cell. Even though it was long since passed, Vegeta remembered the incident with a sickening twist developing in his stomach. He'd never before fought for any reasons other than self-preservation, a personal grudge, or a worthy challenge. But when he'd seen Cell's powerful energy beam punch a massive hole through the older Trunks's chest, something inside of him had shattered and flooded him with an unfamiliar, profoundly powerful emotion. He wasn't sure what it had been, because he hadn't dedicated much effort to trying to figure it out since the incident. In fact, Vegeta had spent most of his time afterward trying to ignore the irksome, undisputable fact that such a massive shift of sentiments had occurred within him at all. His son had died—and horribly too—right in front of him, but he had been revived and had since had returned to his own time. Despite this, the proud Saiyan prince was left increasingly shocked, baffled, and profoundly disturbed with the strange, unnamed feeling's unwillingness to be forgotten.

Whatever he'd felt in that moment when Trunks had been struck down, he knew now that he also felt that way about Bulma, but he didn't know if that emotion was love. It seemed more closely related to fear. More specifically, it was the fear of losing her. Vegeta glanced back towards Bulma. The woman's fiery gaze burned into him as he mulled over the possible responses in his head.

"Well, do you love me or not?" she insisted impatiently.

The Saiyan's brow furrowed for a moment, and once more he turned away from her exasperated glare, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"That term doesn't mean anything to me," he answered honestly.

Vegeta inertly flicked his eyes back towards the blue-haired woman in front of him. The expectant look on Bulma's face had transformed into one that conveyed pain and disappointment. She turned her head, her eyes downcast.

"Oh," she murmured, evidently hurt. "I...I guess I should have—"

Vegeta scowled again, dissatisfied with the reaction he'd incited from her. "I'm not finished."

Bulma's head snapped up, her lips slightly parted and eyebrows lifted in anticipation. Vegeta pretended not to see the wetness brimming in the corners of her eyes. His words had not been meant to cause her pain; in his own mind, he'd just shown her a great deal of respect by telling her the truth as he saw it. Despite her obvious misinterpretation of his intent, the Saiyan prince had neither the patience nor the willingness to explain his reasoning to her. As far as Vegeta was concerned, Bulma only needed to know one last truth about how he felt, and the words did not come easily to him.

"You ridiculous humans place so much value in such a meaningless word," he declared, noting the woman's sharp intake of breath as he said it. "I won't resort to such foolishness. What one says can be easily fabricated."

There was a long and unbearable pause. Finally, Bulma's lips pressed into a thin, red line, and she glanced again at the Saiyan with angry eyes.

"That is such bullshit, Vegeta! Honestly, I expected a straight answer from you, not a half-assed excuse to avoid answering the question!"