Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ One simple decision can change everything ❯ Chapter 1: Broken hearts. Shattered dreams. ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Well here’s the next chapter. Believe it or not it’s actually about a week later than my planned release date. But it’s here now and I guess that’s all that matters. I tried to make it overly sappy and emotional, hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

StrawberryKisses


Disclaimer: As you well know I don’t own it... If I did there’d be a prostitude named Ariel that all the Saiyans went to for their sexual needs. XD


Chapter 1: Broken hearts. Shattered dreams.

*5 long and happy years later*

“Goku, hurry up!” Bulma yelled, gently rocking the screaming infant as his shrill cries rang out, echoing through the hallways of the large, dome-like structure. Her face was a mask of frustration and anger. The child, ignoring his mother’s failed attempt to comfort, continued to wail at the top of his lungs. Bulma sighed in exasperation.
“At this rate we’ll never get there,” she muttered.
“Sorry Bulma,” Goku apologised, appearing suddenly in front of her. She didn’t know whether to blush or sigh as she watched his chaotic attempt to pull on a sweater and devour a large pile of toast all at once. His rippling muscles glistened with sweat from his early morning work-out as he struggled one-handed with the bunched item of clothing currently obscuring his vision.
Bulma couldn’t help but giggle at his foolishness. They had known each other practically their whole lives and yet she still couldn’t get over how damn idiotic he could be.
And handsome she added as she watched his abdominal muscles bunch and contract. All these years and the attraction had never faded nor had the passion thawed. If anything she loved him now more than ever. He was her everything. He was her oxygen. And without him, she would be utterly and completely lost.
I’m can’t believe how lucky I am, she mused.
Finally defeating the seemingly un-conquerable mountain of toast Goku pulled the stubborn sweater fully on, flashing his wife an infamous grin. She felt herself unconsciously beaming back at him, still unable to resist his charm.
Bulma looked her husband up and down. Clad in a black sweater, dark denim jeans and a pair of rust coloured sneakers he was everything a woman could possibly want. The perfect man.
She could still remember the day she’d taken him clothes shopping for the first time. Clad, as usual, in his orange gi he had looked at all the different outfits with confusion and wonder. Fighting and training were so much a part of his life that the idea of ‘casual’ clothes baffled him. He didn’t really see why he needed them. Nonetheless he had allowed her to drag him around, tried clothes on and even picked out some outfits on his own. She loved him all the more for it.
Goku lifted the small child from his wife’s arms. The infant – who would have been a mirror image of his father had it not been for his deep ocean blue eyes – immediately quieted. Goku beamed at his son with a mixture of adoration and awe.
Bulma grinned, leaning against the corridor wall and watching the emotional scene take place. Father and son. The inseparable duo. How could one woman possibly feel as much emotion, as much love, as she felt right now? How was such a thing even possible?
“You have no idea how much I love you!” she declared, giving Goku a chaste kiss.
“Both of you,” she added, kissing her giggling baby boy and missing the blush of her shy husband. Goku’s hand snaked around his wife’s slim waist and she smiled.
“Well, I suppose we better get going,” he said. “We don’t want to be late.”
Bulma tried, and failed, to show her husband a frustrated scowl.
“We already are late, Goku.”
“All the more reason to go now.”
The happy family quickly excited their cherished home. Not knowing that it would be the last time they’d ever see it. Not knowing the danger that was swiftly approaching. Not knowing that, in less than twenty four hours time, they would be one less in number.
Bulma said: “I’m with my family and soon I’ll be seeing old my pals again. Nothing could ruin this day.”
How very wrong she was.

“Hey guys,” the Blue-Haired-Beauty all-but-screamed in excitement as Nimbus landed on Roshi Island. Six familiar, sun-bleached heads raised in unison and beamed in the family’s direction.
“Bulma… Goku,” Krillan replied cheerfully, a huge grin encompassing his features. He jumped from his sun-chair, shuffling over to greet his long-time friends. “It’s been so long. It’s great to see you again.”
“It’s great to see you too Krillan!” Bulma said, returning his bright smile in kind. “The rest of you as well. It’s been so long.”
“Sure has, Bulma dear,” Roshi agreed from the doorway of his small cottage. Bulma noticed that his roving eyes were shrewdly surveying her bared cleavage.
Good to see nothing has changed, she though, not sure whether to feel pleased or disgusted.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Oolong asked from Krillan’s side, eyeing the bundle of blankets in Goku’s muscular arms.
“Is it a present maybe? Or some kind of food?”
His eyes lit up in greedy expectation.
Bulma ignored the pathetic pig and smiled at the rest of her gathered comrades.
“Guys,” she said, her voice full of pride and joy as she gently revealed the sleeping child who lay in his father’s arms. “I’d like you all to meet our son… Gohan.”
Each and every one of them fall over in exasperation. [Think anime style]
“Wow… Bulma’s a mother!” Krillan muttered. “Who would have thought?”
Bulma slapped him cheerfully on the back and they all laughed together, united once more. It was funny how these things happened. It had been five years, five long years, since the Z-gang had been together and yet it had taken seconds for that friendship to be renewed. They had shared so much, sorrow and happiness alike, that together they had formed an unbreakable bond, apparently one that would forever stand the test of time. And now they stood, combined once more. A group of true friends.
Happy and reminiscent conversation began as the old friends spoke of not-so-distant memories and possible futures. There was no end to the questions brimming in each thoughtful gaze. How’d this come about? Whatever happened with that? Just where were so-and-so these days? The enthusiasm and happiness of each person present was more than clear.
Breaking away from the over-excited babble of which Bulma was, quite happily, the focus, Krillan wandered over to his long-time spiky-haired friend who stood cradling his small son. Gohan had long since fallen asleep and was snoring lightly in Goku’s arms. Krillan had meant to ask his best friend what fatherhood was like but, before he could even utter a syllable, the words caught in his throat. Goku’s face was ashen. His eyes narrowed in concentration. His mouth, normally the hostess of perhaps the most cheerful, carefree smile on the face of the planet, a deep-set frown. Looking up at his best friend Krillan was immediately silenced. Goku was worried. Krillan found himself never wanting to find out why.
But he wasn’t the only one. Something had changed… and they could all feel it. Bulma stopped talking abruptly and turned to her husband. Everyone else followed suit. A shiver run up her spine. Something was very wrong. She could sense it.
“Goku, honey, what’s the matter?” she asked anxiously, hoping that it was nothing and knowing that wasn’t the case.
“Three monstrous power levels suddenly appeared to the East of here a minutes ago,” he stated, his tone grave and serious. “They’re coming this way.”
Krillan’s face furrowed in concentration, forcing his senses to perceive any unknown ki.
“I feel it too,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with awe and fear. “They must have been shielding their ki. Their power levels are… terrible.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourselves guys,” Tien said, desperate to lighten the sombre mood which had fallen over all of them. “They’re probably good guys like us. I mean, just because they’re strong doesn’t mean they’re our enemies, right?”
He was answered by a huge explosion from the East, the sky set momentarily ablaze by the ominous crimson of death and destruction.
“I seriously doubt it,” Roshi muttered. “I think they’re coming for us and I don’t think they’re intentions are friendly.”
“Goku?” Bulma pleaded as he turned to her, gently placing their son in her arms. “Who are they Goku? What do they want from us?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, unable to met his wife’s gaze. From what he could sense the power levels were exactly as Krillan had said: terrible. In mere minutes they were all going to be plunged into something catastrophic, something that would undoubtedly mean a fight for their lives. And, what’s worse, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to pull them out this time.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Silence ensued as the gathered friends waited anxiously, desperately for something to happen. Each fighter stood at full attention, ears peaked for any sign of their unwelcome guests. Time passed, silent and tense. To Bulma it seemed like an earth-shattering eternity. Her husband was afraid. And that made her terrified. Goku was well-known for his love of battle and his honourable stead-fast save-the-world complex. The idea of a good fight thrilled him. Fighting was his passion, his first love and a very large, very real part of his life. But why then was he so downcast, so… anxious? The thought of it chilled her to the core. She felt like screaming at the men surrounding her. Telling them that they were the Earth’s Greatest Fighters. Telling them that they had been through much worse before yet still attained victory. Telling them that they had nothing to fear. Finally just telling them, in a strong, clear and level-headed voice, that they had no right to frighten her this way. She opened her mouth, intend on voicing those thoughts. The sudden appearance of three huge men stopped her dead in her tracks.
They stood feet away, the air around them bristling with immense energy as they stared arrogantly down at the gathered warriors, reminding Bulma of a lion pride surveying their prey. The silence they brought was deafening. Even the wind, howling just seconds before, seemed to hush and be still in their wake. The tallest of the three, bald but for a bushy moustache that obscured much of his face, smirked, his demeanour cruel and sadistic. Another, baring a slight resemblance to Goku, stood casually beside his tall companion, extremely long and wild black hair flowing down to his booted feet. He too smirked haughtily at the assembled warriors. Lastly, standing arrogantly before his men in the very image of a dark Prince stolen from some crude and twisted fairytale, was the shortest of the three, a man that could be considered handsome man except for his cold and lifeless onyx eyes. All three possessed a tail – identical to the one that Goku had once had – wrapped securely around their athletic waists.
Bulma clutched her child to her breast and moved swiftly behind her husband needing to shield herself and Gohan from the unknown brutes before her. Though quite different in appearance they each illuminated the same feeling in Bulma’s soul: terror. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried desperately to still her racing heart.
“Kakkarot?” the man resembling Goku asked, confusion evident in his tone. Narrowing his brows he pressed the electronic device on his head for what seemed the hundredth time, staring perplexedly at his would-be twin. “I just don’t get it. You have an average power level. How is it that these weak earthlings are still alive? And why on Vegeta are you socialising with them?”
“Are you talking to me?” Goku asked softly attaining from the man’s gaze that he was indeed the focus. The man frowned.
“Of course I am, Kakkarot! What are you talking about?”
“My name is Son Goku and I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he replied bluntly.
The man before him frowned in apparent confusion laced with distrust.
“You mean you remember nothing? Not even your name or mission? That’s impossible! The pods are programmed without flaw. The rest is ingrained in your DNA. How could you not know? How is such a thing even possible?”
“Maybe I can shed a little light onto the subject,” Master Roshi stated showing more bravery than what he currently felt. He stood forward, quietly revealing the shocking news that a near-fatal head injury Goku suffered as a baby must have somehow scrambled his memory.
The wild man turned to the other two, as though seeking reassurance. The smallest of the three nodded. Spinning back around he smirked haughtily at Goku.
“I see. So you lost your memory Kakkarot? I suppose it is to be expected from a weak third-class. Please let me try to explain your position. I am your brother Radditz, this,” Radditz said waving his hand in the direction of the smallest man. “Is our Prince, Vegeta, and the man standing behind him is his bodyguard Nappa. We are from the planet Vegeta, your home planet, and our mission is simple: retrieve the Saiyan sent to planet Earth when he was a mere infant, ‘programmed’ to purge it of all life. You are that Saiyan and you are needed to help defend your race against the evil emperor Frieza who has had us imprisoned and enslaved for centuries. A rebellion is at hand, my brother. We need all the help we can find if we are to ensure our race’s survival.”
Bulma gaped in shock. Her husband was an alien? She had always known that there had been something a little off about him but this… Suddenly it all made perfect sense: the tail, the strength, how he had been able to make her scream in a way that no man before him could. Being alien didn’t change anything. She still loved him with all her heart and soul. It was the one primary truth of her existence. She still-Bulma was pulled mercilessly back to the situation at hand by her husband’s frightfully solemn words.
“I am an earthling,” he stated, his tone dull… blank.
“This,” he added, gesturing to his gathered friends. “Is the only race I know.”
Radditz scowled in disgust, glaring disdainfully at the odd assortment.
“A decrepit old man, three-eyed circus freak, clown doll, bald midget, revolting pig creature and old turtle?” he asked incredulously. “You would fight for them… but not for us?”
“Yes,” Goku replied without hesitation. “I would.”
“A true Saiyan would never embrace this ball of dirt,” Radditz snarled in disgust. “You repulse me! You leave me no choice, brother. Destroy Earth or be destroyed.”
Bulma whimpered. Her legs felt like jelly and her head was swimming. She grabbed her husband’s arm, struggling not to collapse.
Goku sighed, turning to her and grabbing her by the shoulder’s, steadying his wife. He kissed her softly on the forehead and then passionately on the lips.
“I am about to face an enemy ten times my strength,” he whispered, staring sincerely into her emerald depths now obscured by tears. “I cannot promise you that I will win but I can promise that I will fight my hardest to protect the two things that mean the most to me: you and Gohan. With Kami as my witness I will fight until I am dead one million times over to ensure your safety. I can only hope that will be enough.”
Bulma let out a chocked sob, her husband turning his back on her to face his inevitable doom. She collapsed to the ground in utter, bone-chilling defeat. The truth had been clear as day: he didn’t stand a chance. Crystal tears began their gentle descent down her heart-broken features.
“Earth is my home and my family is here,” her husband declared. “Nothing and no-one could make me destroy it. Nor will I stand back and let anyone do this place, of these people, any harm. In the name of all that is righteous and holy I will defeat you. I am an Earthling!!!”
Powering up to his full potential he charged his enraged sibling.

“Kakkarot has a mate and child,” Vegeta said callously to his bald companion, his tone dull and unfeeling. “Apparently Earthling’s are compatible with the Saiyan gene. And can you feel the child’s power? His mate could be quite useful to us.”
“Indeed my Prince. Shall I dispose of the half-breed?”
“No Nappa. Full blood or half-breed we need all the Saiyans we can get to aid in our rebellion. Besides, I have a feeling the woman would not be so… helpful if she were to lose her husband and child.”
“Yes sire, I agree,” Nappa replied, turning, indifferently, to the fight at hand.

Bulma mouth gaped open in shock and horror. Her beloved husband, the strongest warrior Earth had to offer, was fighting his hardest and yet he could not even land a punch on the older man claiming to be his kin. Her heart was shattered, her nerves frayed to breaking point. There had to be something she could do, anything. She couldn’t just sit back and watch him succumb to defeat. She couldn’t just sit back and watch him… die. She couldn’t!
The feeling was shared by all the fighters present. They, too, could hardly believe it. Their minds struggled to come to terms with what their eyes were seeing. Goku, the one who had always come to everyone’s rescue, was losing a fight… And badly, at that. It just wasn’t possible. Surely it wasn’t possible.
“We have to help him,” Krillan muttered. Working on instinct he jumped beside Goku, desperate to aid his long-time friend. Perhaps if Krillan had have taken a second, one seemingly insignificant heartbeat, to contemplate how impossibly high the odds were stacked against him he would have lived a little longer. But the short, bald man, who always had the ability to summon up just enough bravery when a loved one was in need, had never been one to think things through. The second Radditz noticed his presence Krillan’s life was forfeit. The bulky man, a scowl clearly present on his irritation features, did not take kindly to others interrupting his fights. With a small, habitual ki shot, born from years of merciless killing, Krillan was no more. His body, robbed of it’s last breath, fell beside Bulma with a small, barely perceptible thud.
She whimpered softly, reaching out to touch his cold features. His eyes were wide in shock. He hadn’t even seen it coming. And from the amount of effort Radditz had needed to do it...Was ending a life really so inanely simple as that? Could such injustice possibly exist? Bulma looked up like a deer caught in the headlights and shivered, clinging to her child in a vain attempt to shield him from such sickening brutality.

*****

Goku slammed into the battered fighting ground for what seemed the hundredth time. His limbs shook as he struggled to stand, giving Radditz time to think. The last twist had thrown him. Another warrior aiding his fellow was practically unthought of in Frieza’s army. It was kill or be killed, simple and clean, and only the strongest survived. There were no helping hands, no tag-teaming, no friendly pats on the back. More to the point it was considered pathetic and dishonourable to fight a fellow warrior that way. Radditz had well and truly had enough of the warped humans and their woeful logic and he intended to make dead sure there would be no more unwelcome and unwarranted distractions. Sighing thoughtfully he rose one deadly finger and shot over one hundred random and deadly ki balls.
“Goodbye weaklings,” he muttered.

She should be screaming. That was the obvious response, perhaps even the smart one. But Bulma had been rendered speechless and immobile. Panic had consumed her. Death was rearing its gruesome head, set on stealing her life and that of her child, and she couldn’t do a thing. She was paralysed in fear. Blood blurred her vision. It was everywhere. It seemed to encompass her in an endless sea of red. Was it her husbands? Her friends? Maybe it was her own. A weak sob escaped her constricted throat and she closed her eyes, waiting for the deadly blow to fall: the quick, ruthless beam that would end her life and eradicate her child’s future. At least it would be painless. She prayed Goku’s inevitable end would be too. At least they would all be together in the next. She shivered, utterly defeated, and waited; fear magnifying the seconds and making them seem like hours, years, decades. And yet still she waited… and waited. Everything was silent. She wasn’t dead. Her eyelid fluttered open to meet the sight of a muscled abdomen covered in blue spandex. Someone had saved her. Blue spandex and a frame smaller than her husband’s… The prince. Relief, surprise and confusion washed over her. Why wasn’t she dead? Why wasn’t she destroyed as her friends had been? More importantly, why did their leader – the monster who seemingly felt no pity or remorse – save her?
Her blue eyes, wide and curious, scanned his body, surveying the rippling muscles and well-built frame. So similar and yet so different to Goku. Awe-inspiring power lay inside his body; so perceptible she could almost see it. Their close proximity ignited her skin. The tiny hairs on her neck stood on end and a tiny shiver ran down her spine. A daunting, terrifying power indeed. One to be feared by all. Fire and ice. And yet there was something soothing, enchanting, even peaceful about it; to be held in the arms of someone who could crush you without a second thought but chose not to. It was precisely how she felt when with Goku. In fact it was that unnameable quality which had first attracted her; the thought of a Godlike power held at bay to please her. She couldn’t help but feel calm in the Prince’s gentle, yet furious, embrace. She knew it was wrong… But she couldn’t help it. She was mystified.
Besides he’s not so bad, she thought, her hands working with a mind of their own as they gently swept over his muscled abdomen. She found herself oblivious to the knowledge that his soldier was, under orders by him, currently killing the man she loved. In fact, at that very moment, she was unaware her husband even existed. All that mattered was the man before her who held the power of God. She smiled, utterly succumbed to the Prince’s mystical charm. Her crystal orbs ventured shyly to his own deep black depths… and the spell was shattered. She screamed, reality washing over her in ebony waves of unnameable fear. How could she have thought he was like Goku? How could she have even compared the two?
‘The eyes are the window to the soul’ her mother had always told her. ‘It’s there that lies fail, truth shines and you can see a person for who they really are.’
It was true. And in the Prince’s coal black depths she had seen all she had needed to. She had seen a monster. She screamed again.

Goku was succumbing to exhaustion. He couldn’t help it. Radditz’s fists, coated with a thick layer of Goku’s blood, collided with his heavily bleeding body again… and again… and again. Losing was inevitable, that much had become apparent. He didn’t stand a chance. But that was old news. The only variable was how long he could continue this charade before his body simple refused to move another inch. Then Bulma screamed and the table’s turned.
Crimson light engulfed the fallen warrior, igniting him with raw, brutal power. He screamed as it filled his veins, his body alight in unholy flame. His heart pounded in his ears. He was renewed. Snarling, he threw a vicious punch at his loathed sibling’s torso, sending the shocked man sailing into a nearby tree with a heavy THUMP!
“No-one hurts my family and gets away with it,” he yelled, engulfed by righteous anger. “NO-ONE!”

Vegeta was intrigued. The weakling women had been anxiously exploring his body and then, as though snapping from a trance, the screaming had began. If you could call it screaming that is: a high-pitched wail that would have burst a weaker man’s eardrums. He had seen many frightened women before but none so attuned to bawling as this one. He was almost certain her shrill cry was intended to inflict physical pain. In all honestly he couldn’t say it was entirely ineffective.
Vegeta snarled, deciding that no women, compatible or not, was worth it. His clenched his fist with every intention of landing a deadly blow. He didn’t even come close.
Vegeta couldn’t help but groan as he felt the wind knocked out of him, the annoying woman and her child stolen from his grasp.

Bulma gazed tearfully into her husband’s eyes.
“Thank-you,” she whispered, her voice heavy with the admiration, respect and love that overcame her as he placed both mother and child in the relative safety of the Roshi house. Raw anger radiated from Goku in waves as he turned back to the fight at hand.
“You’re gonna pay now,” Bulma whispered maliciously. “Oh boy, you are gonna pay.”

Radditz could hardly believe it. Less than five minutes ago his detested brother Kakkarot couldn’t even land a punch and now he – Radditz, one of Frieza’s elite mercenary – was struggling. How could someone improve so much so fast?
He feigned to the left, attempting to land a deep punch in Kakkarot mid-section. All he met was air. He growled, utterly irritated.
“How did you get so strong?” Radditz hissed. Where the hell was he? His movements were so swift that Radditz could barely keep track. Goku appeared suddenly behind him.
“Simple brother,” he replied, releasing a relentless ball of light into his brother’s unguarded back. “My family.”
The long-haired warrior had no time to block or even dodge the merciless attack. No time to contemplate his inevitable demise. All thoughts were lost as the powerful blow wholly disintegrated his body, sending him to a place that knows no love, compassion or sympathy. The place where the rest of his race had wallowed for over two decades. He was going home. With a gurgled choke of fear, Radditz was no more.

Outwardly, Nappa appeared indifferent. But inside he was a mixture of rampaging emotions: curiosity, wonder and something that resembled respect for the Earthling warrior. Kakkarot had defeated his junior – one of Frieza’s elites – without breaking a sweat. Nappa found it baffling. The beginning of the fight had shown Radditz as the inevitable victor and yet the lesser warrior had still managed to gain the upper hand, apparently through sheer will power alone. Not to mention the fact that he had somehow been able to place a blow, albeit off guard, on the Prince Of All Saiyans himself; undoubtedly the strongest warrior, aside from Frieza, that this pathetic universe had on offer. It was quite an astonishing feat.
Unfortunately for Kakkarot the Prince looked rightly pissed. He had just lost one of his ever-declining army. Not to mention the fact that the third-class fool had had to audacity to strike him. Vegeta had always been a sucker for revenge.
“Nappa, kill the weakling!” he stated indifferently. “And be quick about it. I plan to get off this ball of mud some time in the next century.”
Without hesitation Nappa took the place of his fallen colleague.

Even in his re-energised state Goku was thoroughly out-classed. Though the tall, balding Saiyan was not particularly fast nor cunning he was, by far, the better fighter. Nevertheless Goku, fuelled by un-ending desire to protect his family, put his all into the un-winnable battle. It took Nappa ten minutes to reduce Goku from invincible warrior to a man hanging onto his life by a thread. Every time his shaking limbs would offer enough support to raise him, Nappa would immediately push him down again. But he couldn’t give in. He couldn’t. He stood for the millionth time. Brute force rammed his battered body to the ground. Silently he registered the fact that he would never stand again. These were his last minutes on Earth. These were the last breaths he would ever take. He tried, in vain, to raise himself, coughing up tiny droplets of crimson blood, and fell to the ground for the last time. The sky looked so beautiful from down here. Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before? The sun shone, bright and beautiful, and the sky was a luminous, shimmering blue. Stunning. So like the exotic emerald depths of his wife and child. His family…

Bulma watched the scenes unfold before her like those from a overly dramatic film. Her husband – her Goku – couldn’t win. She winced every time he was thrown mercilessly to the ground. He didn’t stand a chance. She had known that ever since she first witnessed his uncharacteristically grim façade. She had felt the stinging reality of defeat in the air, heard it in her husband’s voice and seen it in his eyes. That grim moment that had signalled a chain of events too frightening to contemplate and too cruel to be real. She had felt her life changing. She had seen Goku’s life like the last few grains of delicate sand in an hourglass trickling slowly to the bottom. She had known it all yet only now, as the facts were shoved ruthlessly in her face, was she able to admit it to herself.
Though she tried to stop them the harsh tears of reality began cascading down her cheeks. Sobbing silently she clung to her child, shielding him with her body and her sorrow; shielding him from the fatherless world that was steadily approaching. Her husband had stopped moving. She crawled from the small yellow building towards the image of a dying man. She had to do something, anything at all, to help him. But she couldn’t. It was already over. Reaching his mangled body she kissed his soft lips, willing him to get up and live even if it meant that she would not.
“Get up, Goku,” she pleaded in desperation. She rested her head on his chest, listening in dull horror as his heartbeat slowed. She closed her eyes, praying to every god in existence that he would get up, get up and live, please Goku just get up and live! But it was a lost cause… and she knew it. The fact repulsed her – how dare she sign her husband’s own death warrant! How dare her heart betray him when he needed her the most! How dare she lose faith! If only she had his courage, his determination, his hope. If only she had let him train more often. If only she had loved him more. If only-
“PLEASE JUST GET UP!” she screamed, the black demon panic scratching to be set free from it’s caged hollow in her mind.
His eyes fluttered open, pain etching his features. Calm rationality swept over her. She had to be strong, if only for a second, to hear her husband’s last words. Tears streamed down her face.
Goku raised a shaking hand with the last of his strength and gently brushed the crystal tears from his beloved’s eyes.
“Live well my darling,” he whispered, forcing a smile. If this was to be his deathbed then he wanted and needed her last memories of him to be good ones. Even if it was an act – smiling when his soul was shattered at the thought of losing her – he would pull it off to perfection. For Bulma and for his son. So that they may live on.
“Please be happy,” he forced, his throat constricted with emotion. A bright white light encompassed his vision. Was this heaven? The pain was gone. He felt at peace. It was nice. But he couldn’t leave yet. There was one last thing he had to say. One last thing she had to know.
“Never ever forget… that I will… I will always and forever… love… love you… Forever…”
“Disgraceful,” Nappa rasped, utterly disgusted by the overly poignant scene. “Emotion’s are for weaklings and that pretty much sums you up to a tee. A Saiyan as pathetic as yourself would be a discredit to our race. I gladly rid your despicable presence from this world. Maybe you will find real honour in the next.”
Nappa aimed a beam of pinpoint energy at Goku’s heart.
“Hopefully your son shall not turn out so pitiful as you,” he added cruelly, letting loose the small red beam that ended the life of the greatest, most honourable warrior the universe had ever known.
A searing pain ripped through Bulma’s heart, shattering it into a million pieces as she watched the deadly blast pass through her husband’s chest, eradicating his life. She screamed, pain overcoming her. Closing her eyes she succumbed to the darkness which had now consumed her life, her being and her soul.


Will Bulma be able to survive with the love of her life harshly stolen from her life? What will happen to Gohan? Will she be able to fight the lust the Prince inspires within her.
Find out this and more next time on DragonBall Z.