Dragonball: Rewritten

Chapter 9

Twenty four hours later, and Goku was still gone. While part of him was relieved to discover Goku hadn't returned to the Lookout to remove his tail, the other part of him hated that he couldn't feel Goku's ki anymore. The entire time Goku was gone, Vegeta meditated, seeking out his ki, but he felt nothing. Reason and logic kept his frazzled mind calm—Goku was okay, Goku was somewhere, Goku was fine—but it didn't solve the hurt and the pain Vegeta felt. The images from that night still haunted him. The anguish and betrayal. The blank stare and the slap of Goku's hand against his. The way Goku floated away into the morning sky, broken legs swaying in the wind, legs that never should've held Goku up like they did, not after what Vegeta did to them.

But this was Goku. The impossible boy. The Kind Saiyan. The one who saved Vegeta from death, who cheered him on, who swore allegiance to him, to fight Frieza, to avenge their people, to stay by his side, no matter what. Of course Goku would stand on two broken legs. Of course Goku would find a way to conjure the right amount of ki to fly away, despite the state of shock his body was in. Two years of being around this remarkable boy, and Vegeta knew one thing about him: Goku would never, ever give up.

The image of Goku's heartbroken face flashed across his mind.

Vegeta sighed, rubbing a gloved hand against the side of his cold cheek.

He had to come back. He couldn't stay away for this long. Even if that meant Goku would remove his tail for good. Even if that meant Goku would rescind his previous declaration. Even if that meant Goku would never consider him a friend again, or worse—demand he leave the planet for good, just like Kami did. None of that mattered to Vegeta, because if it meant Goku came back, that he'd be his bubbly ball of energy again, then it was worth the sacrifice of losing Goku for good.

This world needed Goku. It didn't need Kakarot.

"Any luck, young prince?" Vegeta opened his eyes, finding Mr. Popo standing before him. "With his ki suppressed this low, both Kami and I cannot find him whatsoever. "

He shook his head no.

"I can call upon a fortune teller—"

"He will return." Vegeta stared down at the ground, arms crossing over his chest. "He needs time to grieve first."

"Yes... that is true." He felt Mr. Popo's ki leave him. "We shall keep trying though. I worry for him."

Vegeta closed his eyes, concentrating again in his search for the familiar spark of Goku's ki. Once he registered no other ki around him, he murmured aloud to himself, "As do I."

***

Another day came and went. Still no sign of Goku. Vegeta made camp at Korin's tower that day, sitting cross-legged near the balcony, seeking Goku's ki to the best of his ability. By being closer to Earth, at least in a lower height than the Lookout's position, there was a chance he could find Goku faster.

Korin never bothered him once. He offered bowls of food—rice, cooked fish, steamed vegetables—all without a word said. He deposited them beside Vegeta at different times of the day, then reappeared an hour later to take the empty bowls away.

That evening, Korin brought a large, fluffy pillow, followed by a stack of equally fluffy blankets. He took one of those large blankets, folded it a couple of ways and laid it down on the floor beside Vegeta. Another blanket landed on top of it. Two pillows soon rested on the top. A temporary, makeshift bed, for Vegeta.

As Korin turned away, Vegeta whispered over his shoulder, "Thank you."

He heard Korin reply, "No sweat, kid." A furry, gentle paw touched the side of his arm. "Goku will forgive ya. I'm sure of it."