Dragonball: Rewritten

Chapter 12

Vegeta could've ended this so-called fight easily, even without ki. But it wasn't just about the fight. It was about embarrassing this uppity woman who tried to take away what was his. Even though he hadn't expressed his intentions the Saiyan way—or in any way, really—Vegeta wasn't going to let this princess have Goku over a dumb promise.

The more they fought, the more Vegeta had to admit there was something appealing about her—her fighting spirit. Occasionally, her ki spiked, a visible red aura tainting her fists and kicks. She roared and growled, blocked and dodged, scouted him out when she could analyze her situation and attacked without fear when she thought the moment was right. She was as beautiful as she was cunning. A strong princess, worthy of any Saiyan. Just not his.

Vegeta cackled as he dodged a series of strikes from ChiChi's sharp nails. "Not bad! You're making me sweat!" He dodged a roundhouse kick, a jab, and then an uppercut right after. He met her furious glare and said, "Nowhere near a workout though."

"GRR!" She jumped high into the sky, yelling, "Shut up and fight!" The tip of her foot bloomed red, aiming right for his face.

Her yell echoed in the arena as the kick came close to Vegeta's chest. He dodged it at the last moment and elbowed her in the back, snickering at the sharp cry she released hitting face-first into the tile.

As ChiChi pushed herself onto all fours, Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "Aww, what's wrong, princess? Did you break a nail?"

She snapped her attention over her shoulder, a fire in her eyes.

Vegeta tutted. "Tch. Not impressed."

The fire ignited into an inferno as she screamed, "Shut UP!"

His eyes bugged out at how fast ChiChi stood on her hands, crouched her knees up to her armpits and then kicked him hard right in the chest, sending him flying across the ring.

He managed to stop himself a few inches away from the edge, skidding to a stop, the sides of his shoes and a gloved palm digging into the floor, balancing him upright.

Vegeta snapped his head up.

ChiChi stood in a crane pose with her hand in front turned upright, palm facing the sky, a smirk on her sweaty face. "What's wrong, prince? Not impressed enough yet?"

"Nngh!" He climbed to his feet, hands twisting into tight fists. "You'll pay for that, woman!"

She made a come hither motion with her four fingers. "Bring it!"

Ki flooded his fists for a brief moment, ki that Vegeta shoved back down the second he caught Goku's glare in his purview. He sprinted across the floor towards ChiChi, ready to attack.

On the offensive now, Vegeta noticed with every punch he landed on the woman, she blocked it in some capacity. Each block costed her though, just by the bruises and cuts he created on her body, and the pained cries she released when he punched an open area.

Her red aura flared to life again as she sped up her defensive attacks, her hair disheveled, ponytail losing its shape. Vegeta growled, frustrated at how with no ki used, whatsoever, only his own bare strength, she was matching him now, in speed and in agility. But the toll was obvious. She couldn't sustain this for very long. She winced more, labored for breath more, the sweat flowing and the bruises multiple.

All around them, the crowd cheered for the woman—much to his ire. He could even hear Bulma in the front row cheering for her too, then alternating chanting his name.

From the outside of the ring, over the roar of the crowd, he heard Goku shout, "End it, Vegeta! End it but don't hurt her!"

He punched ChiChi hard in the arm, sending her stumbling backwards far enough so he could twist around, point at Goku and shout, "Don't tell me what to do, Kakarot! I need to prove a point!"