A tiny twist in time

        The
funeral had been a somber affair. Gohan had only been a child, and he’d died.
Goku had done his best, but his son had still died. Goku sat cross-legged in
front of the small grave, staring vacantly at the dirt that covered his only
son’s body, his thoughts chaotic and drifting.

        Where
was Vegeta’s grave? Raditz’? They were his family as well; Vegeta more vaguely,
but still of his race. Where were they? Not by his son, not even in the same
graveyard. Why was his son buried alone, instead of with the warrior he’d
helped fight against, instead of with his uncle? Why had his wife ripped their
son’s body from his broken arms? Why had she only blamed him for the boy’s
death? Why was she still blaming him? He’d tried to protect Gohan, hadn’t he?
Hadn’t he? Tried to keep his son alive? He’d helped kill his own brother to
protect his son. Killed one family for another, but the family he’d saved
didn’t want him anymore. Helped kill Raditz, couldn’t save Vegeta, and Gohan…
Gohan had still died, and Goku wasn’t sure why. Gohan had been alive. Tired,
but alive. The spirit bomb hadn’t hurt him. He’d been alive, standing. And
then, and then…?

        Papers
crinkled. Nearly vacant dark eyes read over the words once more, the legal
jumble only adding to the confusion. Why had Chi-Chi demanded they marry if she
hadn’t wanted to marry him? Hadn’t the preacher who’d married them said it
would be until death? Oh, but Gohan was dead, wasn’t he? So death had parted
them.

        Death
had parted them. He dug a small hole into the gravesoil, pushed the papers down
into it, and covered them. “As I buried you, so do I bury my marriage with your
mother. She is no longer my wife.” Goku had no idea where the words came from,
but they sounded right. His mouth opened once more. “I will find a more worthy
mate, one to be proud of. I will find your uncle, and our prince. I will bury
your uncle as warrior and family, our prince as royalty and a warrior, and as
family. I will do this, somehow, Gohan. I will… I will not let you lie alone,
my little warrior son.”

        Strange
words for him, he mused as he slowly lifted into the air. Raditz had died
first, but Vegeta’s remains should be easier to find. He flew without thinking
about where he was going, drawn to the final battlefield. The place his son and
his prince and his marriage had all died. The place where he’d lost his faith
in himself and his friends, and learned how little his opinions and self truly
mattered to the humans he lived with.

        He
was drawn to that place, the place where Vegeta had fallen, not so evil that a
Spirit Bomb could utterly destroy him. Not so evil that he couldn’t have been
given a second chance. He touched down, next to the largest part of the body,
and began gathering the gnawed bones and bits of tattered, broken clothes and
armor together. The prince had simply been left to the depredation of the
elements, to have his flesh eaten by the wild beasts, his bones gnawed, his
body scattered.

        Goku
finished the grisly task at last. He knelt next to the remains of the Saiyan
prince, murmuring words he didn’t know the meaning of, and gathered one of the
ravaged spikes into his hand. His fingers wove the hair into a braid; his ki
cut it cleanly from the rest. Slowly, still murmuring in the language he had
once known, the words coming without him understanding, Goku wove the braid
into one of his own spikes, so that the mixed hair fell just over his left eye.

        The
flow of words stopped. His fingers fell from his hair to dangle limply over
what was left of a warrior prince. Goku took off his gi top and carefully
bundled the fallen prince into the shirt. He tied it off carefully, and then
flew back to his son’s grave. A simple glance blew a hole next to it, and he
carefully arranged the bones and clothes he had gathered into the new grave
before filling it in. He found a large enough rock, shaped and carved it with
his ki, and placed the headstone.

        “I’ll
go find Raditz now, Vegeta, Gohan. I’d find that other Saiyan for you too,
Nappa, wasn’t it, Vegeta? I’d find him, but I think we buried him in our fight,
so in a way he had a warrior’s burial. He’s buried on a battlefield, after all.
But I’ll go find Raditz, if I can, and bring what I can of him back here, to
rest with you both. I….” Goku paused, frowning. “I helped to kill him, my own
brother. He should be here, too. He should be. It’s the least I can do for
having helped kill my own brother, make sure he’s properly buried with his
family and his prince. Right?”

        He
waited, as if expecting an answer. None came. Eventually, he rose into the air,
and headed toward the clearing where he had died for the first time. Three days
later, he returned, and filled a new grave. Not until his brother was buried
did Goku return to the home he’d bought with his tournament winnings, to clear
it of everything he considered his. He moved back to his psuedo-grandfather’s
old home within a day of burying the last of his family, and proceeded to set
about trying to live.