Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Confession of Sin ❯ The Confession ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Animegurl002 
ChiChi reflects in a diary entry about a haunting mistake she made in the past that may cost her everything. One-shot
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 09.28.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 857 | Status: Completed
ChiChi reflects in a diary entry about a haunting mistake she made in the past that may cost her everything. One-shot
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 09.28.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 857 | Status: Completed
April 12
Dear Diary,
I am lying here on my bed, staring out the window. So badly I want to lose myself in the rain falling from the heavens. I want to feel it flowing over my eyes, and my mouth and my lips as I dance the waltz in circles. I want to be pure, and I want to be clean, but not even God could take away this pain. I wouldn't let him. Every tear I cry is for the ten more I deserve. How did it come to this? How could I throw away my fairy tale?
I am sitting here in silence, waiting for the words that do not come. For the story that will not write itself. I wait. How exactly does one find the first thread that begins to unravel? Was it in the beginning, when my husband left me alone for the very first time? Or maybe, just maybe, it was when I let him come in.
What was eight years ago in reality, feels like yesterday to me. The news about Goku’s heart condition had already sunk in, and like the faithful wife I once was, I never left his side. For every drop of sweat that beaded his brow, I was prepared to kiss away 20 more. My heart wrenched in my chest whenever he cried out whether it was for me, from the pain, or for our son. The fear and helplessness that I felt kept me glued to his side, and the guilt kept me weak. Or maybe it was the other way around. When Mirai Trunks came back for the first time and announced in front of everyone that Goku was to die in the next year, I wanted to disappear. The looks everyone gave me said more than words ever could. They questioned me, mocked me, haunted me. If I were such a good wife, how could I have not foreseen it? Why couldn't I have prevented it? Why wasn’t I good enough? I didn’t deserve him.
Even after taking the antidote, Goku continued to get worse and worse, and so did I. I stopped eating and sleeping, I even stopped bathing. These were my punishments for not being a good wife to my Goku, I accepted them, and I deserved them. Master Roshi would beg me to go home and rest up just in case he woke up, but I refused. What right did I have to feel happiness or comfort when my husband couldn’t even smile?
The day it happened is a day I’ll never forget. It was a beautiful spring day, much too pleasant for the events that took place. That day I remember the sky was a perfect shade of blue. It was crisp and creamy and breathtaking like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was the type of perfection that would elude even masters of art for eternity. The enigmatic azure depths were kissed with fat, cotton-candy clouds that seemed to dance across the heavens. My words cannot capture the splendor of that spring sky, so I will simply have to call it, beautiful.
It was on that beautiful day, I was collecting Goku’s laundry to wash, when he came in. If only I’d known what I know now, I wouldn’t have let his feet grace the doorway. Unfortunately, I’m no psychic, and seeing Vegeta come in was no unordinary thing. Ever since Goku had been rendered comatose, it slowly blossomed into a tradition, that everyday (and I’m assuming after training), Vegeta would come into the room with Goku and I and stand in silence. He never once spoke a single word to me, or even glanced at me for that matter. His bottomless, onyx eyes were for Goku alone. The expression he wore across his regal face is one that would forever taunt my memories, mocking me with their image and enrapturing me in their mystery.
It is not enough to simply say that Vegeta was a powerful man. His walk, his eyes, his stance and even his flame-shaped hair were all reminiscent of a king. His presence seemed to command my respect and ignite my admiration, even as he stood in wordlessness, with arms folded, and back leaning against the wall. It was at those times, watching him in silence that I knew then what it was like to kneel in the presence of the true Sayian no Ouji. It would be like that for hours with him standing there and with me lost in the complexes of the mind of a grieving housewife. And then, just like that, he was gone. Without a word, he would simply stand up walk out the door, leaving me in the afterglow of his power.
Even as I begin to think about what happened on that day, I can feel my heart start to race, and my fingers beginning to tremble. Why does my body betray me in this way, when in my heart, I know that my love belongs to my husband solely? But maybe I’m just rambling, afraid to write what happens next on solid paper, afraid that the concreteness of ink will make what has already happened, a reality.
As I wrote earlier, I was collecting Goku’s laundry, just like I did on every Thursday. Whites in one pile, dark colors in another, bright colors last, and I always washed Goku’s training uniforms by hand, but there wasn’t much need to do that anymore. As I began gathering the dark clothes to take into the wash room, I heard the front door burst open. It was him. No one else would ever be so bold as to enter the house of a retired, martial arts champion without first knocking. I wasn't too surprised though, and judging from the almost inaudible, dry greetings, neither were the other residents of Master Roshi's. Coughing and a murmured "Hello Vegeta". Those were the last things I remembered about being there that day, because in the next instance, darkness enveloped me. Maybe it was from grief, or maybe it was because I hadn't a bite of food or an ounce of sleep in almost a week, but the next thing I knew, I was on the cold tile floor, next to Goku's favorite navy blue shirt.
When I awoke, what seemed like weeks later, I found myself in an unusual place. My bedroom. Never in my life had I felt the chill of cold panic sweeping through my body and down my spine like it did on that day. It petrified my legs, and brushed across my arms, effectively immobilizing many years of martial arts training. Left with nothing else, like a frightened school girl I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs. I could even swear that I saw my mirror vibrate from the unearthly decibels pouring from my lungs. My death cry couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds though, because right before my eyes, a large hand shot out from nowhere to clasp over my mouth. It was Vegeta. His onyx orbs burned an accused anger back into my own.
"What the hell is wrong with you?", he asked me. His gruff voice carried so much force, his words felt the same as a blow. Even as I write this, I can still feel the burning embarrassment that lit up my face as his dark gaze left me feeling exposed and raw. As if sensing my mood, Vegeta shook his head lightly and turned around to leave. What happened next is something I'll never understand, the moment when I threw it all away into the fires of hell and didn't look back. I reached out and grabbed Vegeta's arm in both hands, and in a voice that was not my own, I asked him to stay with me. I gazed into his eyes waiting to see the disgust that would rot my insides to the filthy, blackened core. I waited for him to reprimand me, to tell me I was wrong, to tell me that he was already mated and remind me that so was I. I waited for him to call me names and slap my face, but he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he lowered me back onto the bed and covered my body with his own.
Somedays I wish that I could believe in second chances, but as time passes, and Goten gets older, I realize that illusions are not enough. Everytime I look in my boy's face I am reminded of the horrible crime that I committed against him and his father. In my heart I know that Goku must know the truth. The smirks on Goten's face are not the innocent one's of my carefree husband, but of a past that I want so badly to break free of. Yes, Goku knows. The look in his eyes when he held Goten for the first time told me everything, but nonetheless, he has stayed by my side. I want so badly to let him know truth, but as long as it remains hidden deep inside me, our love can never be pure. As I read over my words again and again, I now know what it is that I must do. I have to confess. I have to give my heart completely to my husband to do whatever he sees fit, whether he discards it or embraces it, he must know the truth about his son. I have to be set free.
April13
Dear Goku,
Ja ne
Dear Diary,
I am lying here on my bed, staring out the window. So badly I want to lose myself in the rain falling from the heavens. I want to feel it flowing over my eyes, and my mouth and my lips as I dance the waltz in circles. I want to be pure, and I want to be clean, but not even God could take away this pain. I wouldn't let him. Every tear I cry is for the ten more I deserve. How did it come to this? How could I throw away my fairy tale?
I am sitting here in silence, waiting for the words that do not come. For the story that will not write itself. I wait. How exactly does one find the first thread that begins to unravel? Was it in the beginning, when my husband left me alone for the very first time? Or maybe, just maybe, it was when I let him come in.
What was eight years ago in reality, feels like yesterday to me. The news about Goku’s heart condition had already sunk in, and like the faithful wife I once was, I never left his side. For every drop of sweat that beaded his brow, I was prepared to kiss away 20 more. My heart wrenched in my chest whenever he cried out whether it was for me, from the pain, or for our son. The fear and helplessness that I felt kept me glued to his side, and the guilt kept me weak. Or maybe it was the other way around. When Mirai Trunks came back for the first time and announced in front of everyone that Goku was to die in the next year, I wanted to disappear. The looks everyone gave me said more than words ever could. They questioned me, mocked me, haunted me. If I were such a good wife, how could I have not foreseen it? Why couldn't I have prevented it? Why wasn’t I good enough? I didn’t deserve him.
Even after taking the antidote, Goku continued to get worse and worse, and so did I. I stopped eating and sleeping, I even stopped bathing. These were my punishments for not being a good wife to my Goku, I accepted them, and I deserved them. Master Roshi would beg me to go home and rest up just in case he woke up, but I refused. What right did I have to feel happiness or comfort when my husband couldn’t even smile?
The day it happened is a day I’ll never forget. It was a beautiful spring day, much too pleasant for the events that took place. That day I remember the sky was a perfect shade of blue. It was crisp and creamy and breathtaking like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was the type of perfection that would elude even masters of art for eternity. The enigmatic azure depths were kissed with fat, cotton-candy clouds that seemed to dance across the heavens. My words cannot capture the splendor of that spring sky, so I will simply have to call it, beautiful.
It was on that beautiful day, I was collecting Goku’s laundry to wash, when he came in. If only I’d known what I know now, I wouldn’t have let his feet grace the doorway. Unfortunately, I’m no psychic, and seeing Vegeta come in was no unordinary thing. Ever since Goku had been rendered comatose, it slowly blossomed into a tradition, that everyday (and I’m assuming after training), Vegeta would come into the room with Goku and I and stand in silence. He never once spoke a single word to me, or even glanced at me for that matter. His bottomless, onyx eyes were for Goku alone. The expression he wore across his regal face is one that would forever taunt my memories, mocking me with their image and enrapturing me in their mystery.
It is not enough to simply say that Vegeta was a powerful man. His walk, his eyes, his stance and even his flame-shaped hair were all reminiscent of a king. His presence seemed to command my respect and ignite my admiration, even as he stood in wordlessness, with arms folded, and back leaning against the wall. It was at those times, watching him in silence that I knew then what it was like to kneel in the presence of the true Sayian no Ouji. It would be like that for hours with him standing there and with me lost in the complexes of the mind of a grieving housewife. And then, just like that, he was gone. Without a word, he would simply stand up walk out the door, leaving me in the afterglow of his power.
Even as I begin to think about what happened on that day, I can feel my heart start to race, and my fingers beginning to tremble. Why does my body betray me in this way, when in my heart, I know that my love belongs to my husband solely? But maybe I’m just rambling, afraid to write what happens next on solid paper, afraid that the concreteness of ink will make what has already happened, a reality.
As I wrote earlier, I was collecting Goku’s laundry, just like I did on every Thursday. Whites in one pile, dark colors in another, bright colors last, and I always washed Goku’s training uniforms by hand, but there wasn’t much need to do that anymore. As I began gathering the dark clothes to take into the wash room, I heard the front door burst open. It was him. No one else would ever be so bold as to enter the house of a retired, martial arts champion without first knocking. I wasn't too surprised though, and judging from the almost inaudible, dry greetings, neither were the other residents of Master Roshi's. Coughing and a murmured "Hello Vegeta". Those were the last things I remembered about being there that day, because in the next instance, darkness enveloped me. Maybe it was from grief, or maybe it was because I hadn't a bite of food or an ounce of sleep in almost a week, but the next thing I knew, I was on the cold tile floor, next to Goku's favorite navy blue shirt.
When I awoke, what seemed like weeks later, I found myself in an unusual place. My bedroom. Never in my life had I felt the chill of cold panic sweeping through my body and down my spine like it did on that day. It petrified my legs, and brushed across my arms, effectively immobilizing many years of martial arts training. Left with nothing else, like a frightened school girl I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs. I could even swear that I saw my mirror vibrate from the unearthly decibels pouring from my lungs. My death cry couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds though, because right before my eyes, a large hand shot out from nowhere to clasp over my mouth. It was Vegeta. His onyx orbs burned an accused anger back into my own.
"What the hell is wrong with you?", he asked me. His gruff voice carried so much force, his words felt the same as a blow. Even as I write this, I can still feel the burning embarrassment that lit up my face as his dark gaze left me feeling exposed and raw. As if sensing my mood, Vegeta shook his head lightly and turned around to leave. What happened next is something I'll never understand, the moment when I threw it all away into the fires of hell and didn't look back. I reached out and grabbed Vegeta's arm in both hands, and in a voice that was not my own, I asked him to stay with me. I gazed into his eyes waiting to see the disgust that would rot my insides to the filthy, blackened core. I waited for him to reprimand me, to tell me I was wrong, to tell me that he was already mated and remind me that so was I. I waited for him to call me names and slap my face, but he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he lowered me back onto the bed and covered my body with his own.
Somedays I wish that I could believe in second chances, but as time passes, and Goten gets older, I realize that illusions are not enough. Everytime I look in my boy's face I am reminded of the horrible crime that I committed against him and his father. In my heart I know that Goku must know the truth. The smirks on Goten's face are not the innocent one's of my carefree husband, but of a past that I want so badly to break free of. Yes, Goku knows. The look in his eyes when he held Goten for the first time told me everything, but nonetheless, he has stayed by my side. I want so badly to let him know truth, but as long as it remains hidden deep inside me, our love can never be pure. As I read over my words again and again, I now know what it is that I must do. I have to confess. I have to give my heart completely to my husband to do whatever he sees fit, whether he discards it or embraces it, he must know the truth about his son. I have to be set free.
April13
Dear Goku,
-the end-
Well what did you think of my one-shot? It took a while to get everything just how I wanted it, but I'm proud of this fic, and the ending turned out perfect. Please review this for me and tell me what you thought. btw, I don't own DBZ, and I'm not making a profit from this story.Ja ne