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The betting on the second draw's quarterfinals between Zarbon and the little Prince from Vejiitasei was surprisingly even. Vegeta was listed in the program (in a hastily-added addendum, thanks to his late entry) as having a fighting energy level of 15,500; a very respectable ki, one that put him in an elite class, but not usually enough for the final rounds of a galactic tournament. Rumors to explain his wins over two warriors with higher fighting powers were abundant. Some looked at the furry, prehensile tail the otherwise humanoid Prince kept wrapped around his waist and declared Vegeta fought in a partially-transformed state. Feeding on that, another rumor stated that, when the Prince fought all out, he would use the tail as a weapon. Once his tail was unfurled, the rumor went, the Prince's true ki would finally be revealed.
No one seriously considered that the Prince's ki might be increasing as he fought and vanquished stronger opponents. A warrior's fighting energy might increase slightly over a period of years as he approached his prime, but for most races the full ki potential could be extrapolated at birth, and, once reached, did not vary much through the warrior's lifetime. Saiyans were known to have two different states, with the transformed state holding a ki level approximately ten times that of the non-transformed state, but they were not a race that radically increased the ki they were born with.
Or so the conventional wisdom went.
The physical contrast between the two warriors could hardly be greater. Prince Vegeta was compact, slight of build compared to other fighters, with a wild upward sweep of dark hair that emphasized his lack of height. His dark face was all scowling sharp angles. Unlike other (long vanquished) members of royalty that participated in the event, he dressed simply, his blue battle suit covered by basic armor -- a chest-plate with flaring shoulder guards, flank and pelvis guards strapped around his waist, white gloves pulled well over his wrists, standard issue white combat boots. His long prehensile tail was wrapped over the armor at his mid-section, looking like a thick, furry belt. The tip of the Saiyan's head (not counting the hair) barely topped the shoulder of his opponent.
Zarbon was not only taller than Vegeta but much broader across the shoulders. He also wore the standard-issue chest armor, but under the shoulder guards flowed a long, white cape. His face was structured on far more delicate lines than that of the Saiyan, and in fact approached the feminine ideal for many humanoid species. A thin chain with a dangling tear-shaped stone graced his forehead; matching stones draped from his pierced ears. He wore pink arm sheaths with open palms and thigh-high boots. Blue-tinged skin could be glimpsed at the tops of his thighs and arms. His dark green hair was pulled back loosely from his face, then braided into a waist-long fall. With a ki of 23,000, he had reached his seeded position and was given a good chance to proceed further. Under normal circumstances, he would have been the odds-on favorite.
The crowd was in a fever pitch as Zarbon and Vegeta took their places on opposite sides of the square fighting arena. Would the little Saiyan be able to pull yet another upset?
As the referee counted down the seconds to the match, Zarbon reached up to tap the scouter that was hooked over his ear and covered one eye, paused as he took a reading, then tugged it off and tossed it carelessly to the side.
The crowd went wild.
His opponent was attractive, thought Zarbon dispassionately as he waited for the match to start, in a small, unpleasant, underage, mammalian sort of way. Although there was the tail ... Zarbon found himself smiling. He didn't mind tails. Tails could be -- interesting. And just maybe, he continued to himself, the little Prince wasn't so terribly underage. Saiyans were said to mature early, and the solid body certainly looked adult enough, if a bit on the thin side.
I've picked an odd time to daydream. Still smiling slightly, Zarbon tapped on his scouter to see what the young Prince's ki reading claimed to be today.
The same scouter that measured Vegeta's power level at 17,500 the day before now insisted the Saiyan's ki was just over 18,000. He must be a kid -- he's hit a spiritual growth spurt. Sighing, Zarbon popped the scouter off -- the damn thing dug into the back of his ear, anyway -- and cast it aside. Whether it was faulty or whether the young Prince was really gaining ki before his very eyes, Zarbon didn't care. He wasn't going to trust his life to the reading the machine was giving him.
The crowd's roar right before the referee called for the start of the match startled him. For a second his mercenary instincts took over and he scanned the arena to see if assassins targeting his master, Lord Freeza, had crashed the event. There didn't appear to be anything to set the crowd off -- unless it was the Saiyan blur streaking from the opposite side of the arena--
Vegeta materialized in mid-air in front of him, aiming a round-house kick at his head. Zarbon easily blocked with a forearm. Ow! What the hell has he been eating?! There was surprising weight behind that kick, more so than Zarbon would have expected from the Prince's height and build. He probably weighs more than I do!
Flattening his arm out, Zarbon made a grab for Vegeta's calf, but the Saiyan flipped back, nearly getting him in the face with a foot as he did so, and landed briefly before charging again. Zarbon met him with a flat-hand strike aimed toward Vegeta's royal nose; a block, and his arm slid harmlessly past the Saiyan's head. Dropping under Vegeta's counter, Zarbon bent one leg and, using it as a pivot, straightened his other leg and tried to sweep the Prince off his feet. Vegeta simply jumped over it, bringing his hands together as he vaulted past Zarbon's head and striking a glancing blow at the side of Zarbon's face. Still half-crouched, Zarbon whipped around, leaned under another blow, and found himself at eye level with the Saiyan's waist -- with the Saiyan's tail.
Not really expecting either a hand-hold or a reaction, to a certain extent just because he'd been curious about the tail earlier, Zarbon feinted a blow the chest with the heel of his right hand -- Vegeta caught it on his outer forearm -- and darted under the feint with his left hand to seize the exposed length of tail.
He had hardly twisted his fingers into the thick fur when the Prince emitted a piercing scream. A ki blast, much too strong for tournament regulations, exploded next to Zarbon's head, sending him skidding and bouncing down the length of the arena. Ai, if that's the only level he can fire at, no wonder he hasn't used ki blasts! Disoriented, Zarbon scrambled to his feet -- why did I get rid of the scouter, I don't know where he is -- and assumed a defensive posture.
Vegeta was hunched over, gasping as if in agony, his arms wrapped around his midsection.
Zarbon took a quick moment to get his bearings and steady himself. Obviously he'd accidentally hit something vital, but what -- what -- what was that smell?
He sniffed again.
My hair. That monkey-tailed abomination got my hair!
Zarbon waved off the tournament referee, who was starting to hold up the black card that would disqualify Vegeta for exceeding power limits. No one, he thought viciously, messes up my hair.
Screaming his opponent's name, Zarbon launched himself at the Saiyan.
Through a fog of mind-numbing pain, Vegeta heard a cold voice that sounded like his father's. You thought you were the Super-Saiyan? Little fool. It ends here.
And someone screamed his name in distinct syllables -- "Ve-ge-ta!"
The young Prince pushed hard against the ground with a booted foot and rolled.
Zarbon's air-borne stomp landed on a space suddenly vacated, shattering the material beneath his foot. Pulling himself to his knees, Vegeta looked at his opponent through a haze of pain that was clearing too slowly.
He had fired the ki blast from his palm in -- in -- Vegeta's lips pulled back in a snarl of self scorn -- in panic. Had it connected, it might have done serious injury to his opponent. Had not Zarbon thrown up a half-instinctive ki counter that partially dissipated it, it might have dissolved a few hundred spectators. Either outcome would have been acceptable to the Prince. As it was, the sight of the other warrior's face, scuffed and blackened from the blast near his head, was a pleasure. The blast did more than just bruise that unnaturally-delicate face; Zarbon's hair had been neatly clipped under one ear, making the half-sundered braid swing wildly. In spite of his dire situation, Vegeta felt a flash of black humor. Serious damage to the coiffure. Two points!
Zarbon's wide, clear eyes locked onto his own.
Move it! Vegeta ordered his body, and with every nerve screaming protest, the boy shot straight up from a kneeling position, leaping over Zarbon's blow and hovering, still holding his arms protectively over his tail. Zarbon, on one knee with a fist embedded into the arena floor where Vegeta had just been, looked up. His sharp-edged mouth was pulled into a terrible smile, and his face was alight with the knowledge of victory.
Vegeta looked into that beautiful visage and saw Death.
Zarbon launched into the air. Vegeta felt a rush pass him and then a hard, double handed blow against his armored back. He was heading straight for the ground when Zarbon seemed to materialize just beneath him, driving a knee into the Prince's stomach right under the tail, fracturing the armor plate protecting his groin. There was a bone-jarring change in momentum as Vegeta for a second simply hung over the other man's thigh; then Zarbon spun, slapping the Prince's face with a teeth-loosening "WHAP" and sending him hard into the ground. Fine cracks fanned out under Vegeta's body. The floor buckled in a billowing cloud of dust.
Getting lucky and grabbing the tail was one thing, thought Vegeta as he struggled to his hands and knees inside the shallow impact crater, swallowing blood and dust. But he hit me -- he marked me--!
Raising his head, Vegeta looked though a closing eye as Zarbon landed gracefully at the edge of the arena. The blue-skinned warrior lifted a long-fingered, delicate hand to smooth wayward strands of hair back into place. Vegeta bared his teeth (split lip, too) -- this one was worthy -- and charged.
I'm going to have to cut my hair, thought Zarbon, touching the sheared edges next to his face in shock. It took me a decade to get it this long, and that wretched royal runt--
There was a roar from the crowd.
--is still functioning?!
Something hard and sharp -- a Saiyan elbow, most likely -- struck at the juncture between neck and shoulder. Although the armor absorbed most of the blow, Zarbon felt himself airborne. Gathering himself into a tuck, he brought his feet together and down, barely in bounds. The Saiyan, knees bent and arm out in a classic battle posture, came into his field of vision as he spun, crouching. Smiling that terrible smile, Zarbon pushed off back toward the Saiyan.
Vegeta met him fist for fist, kick for kick, countering perfectly. Crossing his wrists, Zarbon shoved him back and broke contact. The two stared at each other, panting, Vegeta with a feral smirk curving one side of his mouth.
"A good fight, little Vegeta," said Zarbon when he thought he could talk without gasping. "Ready to quit?"
Vegeta laughed. "You surrendering, baka ?"
"Just thought it would be a shame to throw away all you've learned in the last month by getting killed now," returned Zarbon.
The wild humor snuffed out of Vegeta's face. It became set and cold, all hard planes and angles. "I will never surrender."
Zarbon sighed. "Well, I can't make any promises, little one, but I'll try not to kill you. It would be a shame to lose such potential."
The boy suddenly flushed. "You had damn well better try to kill me!" he shouted, bringing up his clenched fists. His glowing clenched fists--
He's snapped, thought Zarbon in brief alarm, but he didn't have time to do anything more than react.
Whatever it was that flash of anger did, it pulled something out of Vegeta greater than he ever experienced before. Some scouters in the audience actually cracked as, for just a second, he flared into a ki level above that of Zarbon's. He poured everything he had into the ball of energy forming between his hands, and flung it at his opponent.
Zarbon dropped to one knee and brought his crossed forearms up, but made no countering ki attack. Just as the energy ball reached him, Vegeta felt a pull in the other man's aura--
(What was that? he thought, not realizing he had just for the first time sensed ki in another being without using a scouter.)
-- and Zarbon opened his mouth and sharply uttered, "Hai!"
To Vegeta's amazement, the energy blast suddenly made a ninety-degree turn upward and exploded harmlessly over the arena.
How did he do that?
Then Zarbon was in his face, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Good night, little Vegeta." He struck lightly with two fingers at the base of Vegeta's neck.
Vegeta, all but drained of ki, crumbled where he stood. Under the roar of the crowd he heard Zarbon mutter, "I should have let them disqualify you." Then he slid into blackness.
In the royal box, Cooler murmured his brother's name.
"Yes," replied Freeza. "I know."
Read "The Young Prince: Chapter Three"
Return to Vejiitasei Ascendant
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