Warnings: Profanity. Masturbation. Emotional angst. Maybe slight out-of-character
behavior. Some use of Japanese terms/phrases/lyrics/concepts. Badly-written song
lyrics (my own).
Notes: This is the second rewrite of this fanfic. Any lyrics that aren't a product of my imagination will be credited in a separate post. Indescribable Need was inspired by too many viewings of Gravitation =) (and a really good Goku/Vegeta fanfic on Fanfiction.net known as Indigo Spice by Saiyajin Peach 18).
Part 1: Magnetic Attraction
There was a time when he thought he was normal. He went to school just like every other kid his age. He had friends who he hung out with in his free time. And though he didn't have any parents, he did have a grandfather who cared a great deal about his well-being. There had been absolutely nothing special about him. He had been just an ordinary kid.
And then, in his second year of high school, Sican stepped into his life.
Sican -- actually Sican Danger -- was a rock star. A very famous rock star. And he hadn't actually stepped into his life. Sican was a recent discovery, an instant smash hit. One song and he skyrocketed to the top of the charts, earning spots on all of the top music entertainment programs that many artists would kill their own mothers to be on. Many experts in the industry speculated constantly about why this man was such a success when he had been virtually unknown a month before. Secretly, Goku thought that the naysayers were all blind as well as deaf. Not only was Sican sexy beyond belief but his voice could practically induce orgasms. He had discovered that special side-effect retty much by accident one lazy Saturday morning.
His grandfather had gone into town for supplies and to visit with friends, leaving behind his deeply sleeping grandson. Gradually, Goku had awakened, unaccustomed to the complete silence that had permeated the house. His grandfather usually had the radio playing softly in the background as he went about his daily chores and Goku had grown used to it. Being unable to sleep any longer, Goku had risen from his bed to wander into the living room, turning on the small television so that he wouldn't be forced to sit in silence. After idly flipping through the few channels they could get, he'd stumbled across a broadcast of a popular music program aimed at teenagers. He wasn't usually interested in popular culture, but he hadn't changed the channel.
And it had been both a blessing and a curse that he hadn't. The next performer had been Sican, a short, yet sleekly-muscled man with wild black hair who exuded sexuality like the sun exuded warmth. He was dark and mysterious with a barely-suppressed undercurrent of danger and Goku had been drawn to him much like the way a moth was drawn to a flame.
Sican had been wearing tight black leather pants and a black biker jacket over a tight white tee. On his feet had been heavy black boots with thick silver buckles that came up over the pants all the way to mid-calf. Goku's eyes had been riveted to the almost obscene bulge he could see underneath those sinfully tight pants and wondered why the producers of the show had let the man go out on stage like that. But the more time he spent watching and listening to Sican sing in his deep, husky voice, the more he realized that to deny him anything would be ludicrous.
The song he sang was about loss and about not being able to have what you most desire. He would come to find out later that every Sican Danger song had one or both of these particular themes. There was something about the way he sang that made Goku think that he knew quite a bit about loss and it made him want to take him into his arms and soothe his troubled soul.
The more he thought about "saving" Sican, the more pissed off at himself he became. He sounded like a na´ve teenage girl, for Kami's sake! One person's infatuation wasn't going to rescue Sican from his own misery. The only person with the power to "save" the man was himself. And, besides, there was no way a man like that was going to be a pervert like he was. There was just no way!
But what if... Goku's hand stole down to caress the growing bulge in his pajama pants. What if Sican did prefer males? His mind had filled with images of Sican dancing and singing just for him. He didn't participate in his fantasy -- it was too soon -- but he watched with great relish. Every drum beat had pulled an answering pulse from his cock until he could take it no more and allowed his hand to explore the rigid flesh trapped within the tight confinement of his underwear. When the song reached its end, so did he, the liquid heat bursting forth to coat his fingers and the soft cotton of his boxers. Goku had fallen back against the couch, breathing heavily, his hand still clasped around his shrinking cock.
By the time his seed had grown cold, guilt had risen up to engulf him and he pulled his hand out of his pants as fast as he could. Sican's performance was over and he was no longer on stage. Some other group, an all-girl one, was now singing a happy pop tune. He'd stared at the lead singer, trying to picture the bouncy blonde naked, and completely failed to do so. He just wasn't interested.
And so this began a period of profound uncertainty for him. He wanted to like girls in a sexual way, knew that he really should, but couldn't bring himself to do so. And knowing that he was different than every other male he went to school with filled him with anguish.
He started to wonder if people would know that he was a pervert just by looking at him. Looking in the mirror at himself, he could see no difference in his appearance. His voice, too, was just the same. Indeed, the change was an internal one. No one would know what sort of realization he'd come to unless he wanted them to know.
School became harder than it had ever been before. Goku was an average student when he tried, but he began to focus more on how his peers perceived him than on his schoolwork after that fateful Saturday morning. That following Monday he had been able to hide his emotional pain effectively and the only thing Yamucha, Kuririn, and Buruma had noticed was that he was unusually preoccupied. But as time wore on, and his inner debate continued, it became harder and harder to hide what he was feeling.
A week later he was depressed and nearly unresponsive. Before speaking with him, Buruma had initiated a conversation with their other two friends in an attempt to figure out what to do. Never before had any of them seen Goku behave this way. He was usually positive, upbeat, and cheerful. Whatever the problem was, it had to be something severe.
At lunch, Buruma and Yamucha (who were in their final year of high school), joined Kuririn and Goku in the Year Two, Class One classroom. Buruma was a blue-haired beauty who had great pride in three things: her father's business successes, her looks, and her intelligence. She always wore the latest styles and had the latest technological marvel designed to make life easier. Yamucha was sort of a rebel and his wild black hair that was nearly as untamed as Goku's own only added to that image. But he was honestly a nice guy and didn't care who knew it. Both teens paused in the doorway in shock when they saw that Goku wasn't eating. In the past, lunchtime had been Goku's favorite time of the day. Instead, he was staring down at his empty desktop, his head propped up on his hands.
"This is serious," Buruma whispered to her boyfriend. Goku was like a human vacuum cleaner, she, Yamucha, and Kuririn all privately thought. He would normally eat just about anything that held still long enough.
"I think this just started today or else Kuririn would have told us." Yamucha led the way inside the room, causing more than one of Goku's classmates to look up, curious as to why two people they all had to refer to as "sempai" were mixing with them. But none of Goku and Kuririn's classmates said a word.
Goku didn't look up until Buruma was standing directly in front of him. His dark eyes were dull and lifeless and his face did not change expression. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked, his tone revealing no curiosity or interest whatsoever. It was as if he only asked because he thought was expected to.
"We thought it would be nice to eat lunch with you and Kuririn for once," she said, lifting up her metal lunch box. It had a picture of a popular male pop star on the front, his hands clutching the microphone he held lifted above his head while he poured out his emotions for all of Japan to hear. Moving around to his side, she motioned towards the next desk over. "Who sits here?"
"Chiori-chan, but she's not here today." Once she'd moved out of his line of sight, he had gone back to staring at the desk.
Yamucha moved to his other side while tiny little Kuririn remained on the other side of the room watching anxiously. "Goku, we're-" A harsh cough from his girlfriend interrupted him. Buruma held her hand sideways against her throat and made a slashing motion with it. He stared at her, confused for a moment, before she rolled her eyes, placed a finger against her lips. He finally realized that she was trying to tell him not to bring up their concern as of yet. "-we're happy to see you," he finished lamely.
"Really? You see me all the time, though." His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything else.
Buruma began to pull food out of her lunch box. "Are you sure you're not hungry, Goku? I have more than enough to share."
"I'm sure. I haven't been very hungry lately."
"You?" she teased gently. "Not hungry?"
Looking at her, she saw a new expression cross his face: hesitation. But, as soon as she recognized it for what it was, it was gone. "Hai. Maybe I'm coming down with something."
"I haven't ever known that to happen to you, either," Yamucha muttered. Buruma wanted to throw something at him.
"Goku, we're worried about you," she said, unable to hold it in any longer. "You haven't been yourself for a long time. If you're in some kind of trouble, we want to help."
Again, she saw that brief look of hesitation as if he wanted to say confess something, but this time she didn't ignore it. "Goku, talk to me," she urged. "Talk to us." Out of his line of sight, she gave a signal to Kuririn who was within hearing range in only a couple of heartbeats. He stood in front of Goku's desk, inadvertently crowding him, and Goku became nervous.
"There's nothing wrong with me," he said. His hands moved away from his face to grip the sides of his desk so hard that tiny cracks began to radiate outward from his fingertips. He leaned his body back in his chair as far as it would go, but was unwilling to fight to get away as of yet. These were his friends, after all. They wouldn't hurt him. At least, he hoped they wouldn't hurt him...
Buruma eased back slowly as if her friend was a terrified deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "It's okay, Goku," she said softly. Following her cue, Yamucha and Kuririn moved farther away from him as well. Slowly the tension visibly eased out of Goku's body and the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead evaporated.
The three of them wanted to pursue their line of inquiry and discover what was wrong with their friend. Every cell in their bodies strained with the need to know. However, Goku was fragile and on the verge of a breakdown. They could see that as plainly as they could see the sun beyond the classroom windows.
They allowed him to sit in silence for the rest of lunch and did not bother him again for the remainder of the school day. His teacher had also noticed that he wasn't his usual self, but as long as he didn't disturb the students around him, he didn't think to bring up the matter with his grandfather. The day passed for Goku much in the same way its predecessors had passed since the day he had masturbated to the sight and sound of Sican Danger on stage: slowly and painfully. He knew that he would eventually have to face what he was feeling, but he didn't know when or how he would do so.
He did his best to avoid his friends after the last bell, going as far as to dart out the back door and take the long way home. Unfortunately, they all knew where he lived and could confront him whenever they felt like it. Unless he hid in the forest, that is. But then his grandfather would worry about him and he never wanted to do that to the man who had taken him in as a baby and cared for him even though he had been unruly to the point of being a danger to himself and others.
His mind now running amok with yet another issue to worry about, Goku flew home and headed straight to his room.
Gohan frowned when his adopted grandson passed him without even a hello. It looked as if he hadn't even see him sitting on the sofa reading a book even though he had passed within a foot of him. Goku's gaze was turned inward, that much he could see, and it was obvious that it wasn't the usual "teen angst" that adults casually made reference to. His poor grandson was behaving like a zombie. His body was animated and going through the motions of being alive, but his mind and soul were off someplace else entirely. Gohan debated whether or not to interfere. He had always given Goku room to grow and had guided him gently along the path to adulthood. As a result, they shared a relationship of equals rather than that of adult and child. He frowned more strongly. Well, they usually shared a relationship of equals. As of late, Goku had been distant and unresponsive, certainly not the typical behavior of a young man who could make even the sternest of men smile.
He knew that it was now time to interfere. He had given his grandson ample time to sort things out for himself and they seemed no better than they had been the week before. Gohan rose to his feet, the roundness he'd acquired in his old age hardly affecting the grace he'd earned through years of martial arts training. He moved through the small house on silent feet and was standing all-too-soon before the door of Goku's room. Squaring his shoulders, Gohan knocked softly with his knuckles on the smooth wood. "Goku? May I please speak with you?" He would still give him the chance to refuse help; it was every person's right.
From behind the door he heard a soft sound that could have been anything to the casual observer, but Gohan was anything but casual. He listened with years of caring for a child who hid his pain as often as he could. A proud child who'd never asked for help, but one who accepted it once offered. He stood there quietly and motionlessly, giving his grandson all the time he needed to make his decision.
Just as he was turning away from the door, he heard a series of soft sounds, ones that coalesced to form words. "Ojiichan... I think there's something wrong with me."
Gohan smiled softly and just a little sadly. "We shall see, Goku. We shall see."
 = the term "sempai" is used for an older student by a younger one; "kouhai" is what the older students use
 = a familiar form of "ojiisan" (grandfather) that means grandpa
Author's Note #1: Japanese schools are a lot like American elementary schools even through high school: you have a single teacher for every subject, unless it's something special such as language or music. Also, they don't use the term "grades". Instead, it's more like Harry Potter since they also use year designations. Example: a 10th grader is a 1st year high school student, otherwise known as ichinensei.
Goku had re-emerged from his bedroom feeling somewhat better but still a little ill at ease. His conversation with his grandfather had helped. Though he had not gone into detail about what he had experienced, he had explained to him his feelings of confusion and worry. Gohan had not pretended to understand exactly what he was going through like some adults would have, choosing instead to listen, asking occasionally for clarification.
At dinner he ate more than he'd eaten in weeks, which made his grandfather smile, and he engaged him in conversation about what was going on in school. They were cleaning up from the meal when they heard a knock on the door. It sounded so hesitant and unsure that he knew that one or more of his friends were standing outside on the stoop.
"I'll get it, ojiichan," he said though he was feeling more inclined towards doing the exact opposite. The knock came again as he was en route to the door and, this time, it sounded stronger. He gripped the knob tightly before opening the door.
"Hi," he said quietly. "Come on in." He then stepped back and allowed Buruma to enter. Luckily she had been the only one to make the trip to see him.
After closing the door behind her, Goku made his way over to the couch where his friend already sat. The moment his butt touched the cushion, Buruma began to speak. "We're worried about you. Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?"
Instead of answering her verbally, Goku turned on the television and flipped to the music channel. There was only a chance that one of Sican's music videos would be on, but, considering his popularity, it was a very good one. He wasn't on when Goku made it to the channel, but he came on within the next few seconds.
And it was a video he had never seen before.
Buruma could have ceased to exist for all the attention he paid her.
Everything conveyed angst and torture so very well, from the darkness of the shots and the rain pouring down from the heavens. Sican, too, looked like he'd had a rough time of things. His shirt was torn and practically hanging off of his sculpted body in pieces and the tight jeans he wore had rips in a variety of tantalizing places. His customary black boots were the only things untouched in this dark video.
I can't find the light
I'm falling further down
Without you here to save me
I will surely drown
I don't know why you left me
Was it really so hard to stay?
I mourn your absence daily
And wait for the day when you...
Originally, he had only intended to give his friend a demonstration of the power Sican possessed. He wanted to believe that what had happened to him had been entirely beyond his control, that anyone could be swept away on the rich ocean that was Sican Danger's voice. He desperately didn't want it to be true that he desired men. But one look at Sican, one note of his voice, and he was enraptured. Caught in a web of pleasure.
Take my hand
Help me find my way
Pull me out
Come back here to stay
Give me back your pure, shining light
Heal my broken heart
Mend me where I've come apart
Open the door and let me into your soul
He could feel it happening again. His body was beginning to sweat and his heart's pace began to pick up speed. Within his pants, firmly trapped by his underwear, his cock began to fill with blood. Sican was a dangerous addiction, one that he was unsure if he could ever recover from.
My life is ending
There's no escape
My body's fading
My soul's been raped
But you can save me
Please hear my plea
Only you possess the key
Take my hand
Help me find my way
Pull me out
Come back here to stay
Give me back your pure, shining light
Heal my broken heart
Mend me where I've come apart
Open the door and let me into your soul
"Goku?" Buruma said softly. He turned to her, his eyes filled with guilt as well as lust.
"Do you see? Do you understand now?"
"No, I don't."
"It's him, Buruma," he whispered, returning his eyes to the television. Water droplets ran down Sican's now-bare chest to pool at the waistband of his low-rise jeans. He wanted to lick every single drop of rain from his body and that made him feel even worse about himself. "He's made me into a pervert. Ever since I saw him a few weeks ago, I can't get him out of my head. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to spend my time staring at the music channel with the hope that he'll be on it again."
His friend's eyes flew open wide with surprise and she said in a choked voice, "Goku..."
"Every time I see or hear him, it's like I go into some kind of trance."
"Goku..." she tried again.
"I have to masturbate every night before I can go to sleep or else I would never be able to get comfortable."
"Goku!" Her face was a bright, embarrassed red. "That was a lot more than I ever wanted to know about you."
He blinked and turned his face slightly towards her. The Sican Danger video was now over and the music program had cut to a commercial. "Did you want something, Buruma?" It was then that she realized he had been talking more to himself than to her for the last few seconds.
"Um, nothing. I didn't say a word."
She spent ten more minutes sitting with him, never finding the courage to bring up the subject of his obsession with Sican Danger. Not once had Goku struck her as a boy who would desire members of his own sex and he still didn't. She was having a hard time trying to think past the gay stereotype that society perpetuated.
When she left his home that evening, she promised silently not to tell Yamucha or Kuririn either on purpose or by accident. They didn't need to know just yet and might even take it badly. Besides, it wasn't her secret to tell.
Late that night, Goku lay awake in his futon even though he had tried to relax enough to fall asleep for about an hour now. For once, erotic visions of Sican weren't dancing in his head. Instead, he could picture himself the way he must have looked to Buruma that evening: disgusting, immoral, perverted. He couldn't believe that he'd almost masturbated in front of her. The urge had been very tempting, especially with Sican half-naked on the screen, and his cock had begged for the attention of his hand.
He felt like he was being overwhelmed. Never before had his body been so out of his control. As a martial artist, he had taken great pride in being able to encourage his body to do exactly what he wanted (or didn't want), but unruly teenage hormones were flooding his system and causing reactions that had never occurred before. Everything made him horny, as long as it was phallic-shaped, that is. Carrots; cucumbers; table legs. His latent sexuality had been awakened and, like a small child, it didn't ever want to go to bed again.
There was a tightening beneath his blankets. His cock stirred restlessly, stimulated by his thoughts of sexuality and his memories of sensation. Goku squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands in the bottom sheet, trying to resist the urge to engage in self-pleasure. While it felt so good during, the guilt and shame he felt afterward made masturbation hardly worth it. Unfortunately, the persistant ache eventually became too strong to ignore.
He gripped himself so firmly that it bordered on pain. It was then that an idea popped into his head. If he could come to associate masturbation with pain, then he would no longer feel compelled to engage in it. He would be punishing himself for being so dirty. He quickly came to believe that it would work because he had no other solution to his problem.
His hand tightened further on his tender flesh and he began to masturbate roughly and mercilessly. The pain radiated outward from his groin to settle in every part of his body, but still he continued on. He pictured Sican in his head to further associate his perversion with pain, wanting more than anything to regain control over his life. When he climaxed it was like millions of tiny, vicious needles were repeatedly pricking his body and he was almost amazed to see that there was no blood. Once the tidal wave of sensation had ebbed, he moved his hand away and laid both hands flat against the mattress. Maybe now he could get some sleep.
He walked along a hallway that was roughly three times as tall as he was. The walls were made of large rectangular blocks of gray stone he knew were cool and slightly rough to the touch. At regular intervals there were sconces on the walls that cast warm triangles of golden light while brightly-colored tapestries depicting great battles from legend filled the empty spaces between.
Along the floor was a red carpet trimmed in gold that covered most of the hallway except for a very narrow gap between it on the wall that ran along both sides. He crouched briefly to run his hand along the carpet worn threadbare and smooth by years of foot traffic. He liked to play on top of it when no one was around and sometimes he could get the prince to play along with him.
It was boring when all of the big people were in the room with the giant chairs in it. When that happened, his friend had to go too because his daddy was teaching him how to be a king. He hoped that the prince didn't grow up to be boring like all the adults except for his own daddy. When he wasn't with the king, he played games with him and taught him all sorts of neat things. Other kids' daddies didn't do that. They were cold and mean and never around.
As he neared the door, shouting began to erupt from within the room and he covered his ears tightly with his small hands. There were few things he hated more than angry people, one of which being the prince's occasional refusal to play with him. He stared at the giant doors and wondered what was going on behind them. A few seconds later, they both burst open and he was knocked backward onto his rear from the force of it.
The man looked down at him with a twisted expression on his face. "Bardock, come get your brat!" he spat before stalking off down the hallway. "You should teach him how to get out of the way before he's killed."
His daddy exited the room quickly and crouched down to his level. He was a big, strong man who everyone said he looked just like. "Kakarotto, are you all right?" There was worry in his eyes but also anger. He knew that it wasn't directed towards him -- he never directed anger towards him -- but he still didn't like to see it or hear it.
"Uh huh," he said, nodding his head emphatically. "Are you done now?"
"No, Kakarotto," he sighed, "I'm not done. But I'll see if Vegeta can come play with you, okay?"
His little face lit up with joy. "Okay!"
He was picked up from the floor and led into the great throne room by the hand. A thick red carpet that was changed often to prevent wear ran the length of the room from the large wooden double doors to the raised dais upon which three grand chairs stood. The largest chair was in the middle. It was carved from white marble and looked incredibly hard and uncomfortable even though a golden velvet cushion occupied the seat. The chair on the left was reserved for a queen, but he knew that no queen had sat in it for a very, very long time. The chair on the right was the prince's. Vegeta's small nine-year-old body was nearly engulfed by the shiny wooden chair.
There was no one else in the entire room save for the king, the prince, and one lone servant that hovered near the rear exit. When Vegeta caught sight of him, he jumped up from his chair and ran down to meet him. However, he had hardly taken three steps before his father's voice halted him.
"Vegeta, where do you think you are going?"
Sheepishly, he turned around and said, "I am going to go play with Kakarotto, Father."
One black eyebrow rose in question. "Oh you are, are you? I wasn't aware that you had the authority to make decisions such as these."
Suitably chastised, Vegeta said, "Father, may I play with Kakarotto?"
A fond smile spread across the king's face. "Yes, Vegeta, of course you may."
Goku rolled over and murmured incomprehensibly, a tiny smile resting on his face. Though he would hardly be able to remember it in the morning, he dreamt of a time when he had known only innocence.
A time that was now lost forever.
Author's Note #2: The song above is a product of my own imagination. I was going to translate it into Japanese so that it would match in format any Japanese song I used, but it wasn't going to work because I'm not particularly fluent in the language. Just imagine that Sican likes to sing in both languages, okay? :)
His life, while exhilarating, wasn't as fulfilling as he would like it to be. The reason he had gotten into the music industry in the first place had been because a man named Kyoshi had overheard him singing to himself as he swept the sidewalk in front of the Himura Office Complex. It had just been a song from his childhood, one that conjured up good memories that he sorely needed. Kyoshi, who was an assistant to a record producer, had recognized his talent and knew that it, combined with his extremely good looks, would take Japan by storm. And the rest, as they say, is history.
The man now more commonly known as Sican Danger had welcomed the diversion. Before being discovered, he had been drifting from place to place, searching for something he couldn't even identify. It had been more of an instinct that had brought him to Chikyuu and later to Tokyo, Japan, but the instinct had faded once he was within the bustling metropolis and was surrounded by millions of people. He had come to Tokyo with no money or skills, but had been able to find simple jobs fairly easy because most Japanese people aimed for higher quality employment.
He always tried to choose jobs that would put him into contact with a lot of people because he had a feeling that what he yearned for was a person. The more people he saw on a daily basis, he thought, the higher the chance that he would run into the one he most desired. Unfortunately, after a few days at each job, he realized that the people he saw were the same every day as they walked habitual routes back and forth to work or school. As soon as this became apparent, he would always quit his job and find employment elsewhere.
Now, however, the people came to him. Due to his star status there were always people hovering around the Nihon Records offices who were hoping to get his autograph or just see him in person for once instead of seeing his image broadcast into their televisions. He had long ago lost count of how many autographs he'd sighed, of how many questions he'd answered, but it felt great to be adored. He unashamedly loved the boost it gave to his admittedly large ego.
He remained ever-vigilant. Every new person he came into contact with, he scrutinized them until they felt uncomfortable, until he was certain that they were not the one he was searching for. In fact, he had never gotten even a hint of "rightness" from anyone he'd encountered so far. But he was hopeful. In a city of over twelve million people, his chances were relatively high that he would find who he was searching for. If not, he would simply go someplace else in Japan. At least he was fairly sure that he or she was somewhere in the country. If he hadn't even had that much to go on, his quest would have been next-to-impossible.
"Oi, Sican!" His manager, Ashikara Tojiro, waved his hand in front of his face to get his attention. By the frustrated look on Ashikara's face, he had been trying for quite some time. The short, balding man retook his seat once his star's eyes were on him. "Have you listened to anything I've been saying for the past ten minutes?"
His dark eyes were cool. "When you say something worth listening to, I will."
"You wound me!" Dramatically, Ashikara clutched his chest and fell backward against the chair. "I don't know why I put up with you!"
"Apparently the fact that I bring in more money than any other artist at Nihon doesn't ring any bells." He was very, very smug. There were few things that he truly enjoyed and being the best was one of them.
Ashikara scowled. "It's too bad you're such an egotist, though."
"And what do you think the fans truly want in a rock star, Ashikara? Humility and kindness?" He made a scoffing sound. "They want a 'bad boy'. Someone they can use to rebel against their parents. And, besides, I'm not sunshine and puppies; I'm darkness and demons and don't you ever forget it."
He leaned back in his chair and adopted a bored expression. "Now, what were you talking about again?"
"The concert, Sican! Do you recall that I mentioned that the shicyou has scheduled a concert for you in a week at the Tokyo Dome? This can either make or break you. It's one thing to see you in a music video, or hear you over the radio or on CD. It's even different when you play to a much smaller audience. The Tokyo Dome can hold 55,000 people, Sican, and Tamura-san expects every seat to be filled."
He raised a single, black eyebrow. "Aa. So?"
"So?! What do you mean, 'so'?!" Ashikara's face was starting to turn red and Sican smirked to himself in approval. Running up his manager's blood pressure was always an good way to brighten his day. "This is a big deal! Don't treat this like it isn't!"
Rolling his eyes, Sican stood up from the plush beige chair he had been occupying and headed towards the lounge exit. "Well, if the Tokyo Dome is such a big deal, maybe I should go and rehearse a little more. I wonder if there's enough time to write another song before the concert," he mused aloud.
"Write another song?" Ashikara's mood improved considerably. "That's a good idea. It's not uncommon for musicians to have something new to debut at their concert. It would start you off on the right foot. How about something a little less angst-ridden for a change?" He suddenly found the door heading at rapid speed toward his nose and quickly put up his hand to stop its motion. "Okay, okay! No cheerful songs! I get it!"
"I honestly wonder if you do," Sican muttered to himself. "I don't fucking do cheerful, Ashikara, and this is the last time I'm going to tell you!" He stalked off toward their usual sound booth, his fists clenched by his sides.
Ashikara rolled his eyes at his behavior. "Why are musicians such drama queens?" he asked himself softly.
"I heard that!"
Later that night he lay in his bed and contemplated his life up to that point. Before that fateful day when everything had turned to shit, he had been happy. He had been a prince, goddammit, and people had waited on him hand-and-foot. That was one of the major things he missed about his old life, not that he'd lived it for very long. He had been just a little kid when Furiza came to his homeworld and declared war upon the Saiya-jin.
He also missed the times he'd spent with his father. The king could definitely be a demanding taskmaster, but he had truly understood why he had been so critical. After all, he had been next in line to rule and the Saiya-jin would not have benefitted from a pathetic king. And his father had honestly cared about him. In Saiya-jin society, love and/or affection had been rarely present and he knew that he'd been lucky that all of the affection hadn't been beaten about of his father at a young age. Things could have been a hell of a lot worse for him.
And then there had been Kakarotto, his playmate and very best friend. He was as close as he could get to being family without being related by blood. Though six years separated them in age, he had never once thought of Kakarotto as a kid. They had understood each other and neither had placed another child higher in their regard. He had thought, even as a child, that they would spend the rest of their lives together. Though he would have had to find a female to create an heir with, he imagined that Kakarotto would always be by his side as his true mate.
Pain always gripped him when he remembered dreams that would never be. He, himself, had escaped death because his father had shoved him into a small, single-person pod and ejected him out into space. His last memory of his homeworld had been watching it explode into millions of chunks of super-heated rock from the golden beam of energy that Furiza had hit it with, right before the cryogenic system in the pod had kicked in and forced him into sleep.
The next thing he remembered had been waking up in a stranger's bed. Having been taught that strangers meant nothing but harm, he had panicked and tried to run away. But lingering traces of the side-effects of being cryogenically frozen had remained and his limbs were reluctant to respond. And so, instead of rising easily from the bed, he had stumbled and fallen.
"You might want to take it easy, kid. Your body isn't completely awake yet." The amused voice came from the other side of the room and he had turned his head to regard the person with no little amount of disgust.
"Yes, I can see that," he muttered. He pushed weakly and ineffectually at the floor, cursing himself for his weakness.
The man walked over, picking him up easily as if he'd weighed as much as a feather. He placed him back onto a bed that was actually pretty comfortable and pulled the covers up to his chest. "You might as well be comfortable while you return to normal. Do you want anything? Food? Water?"
"Information," he said shortly. "Where am I? What do you want in return for taking care of me?" He examined the man standing before him. He was neither young or old, ugly or handsome, short or tall. His clothes were clean and well-kept, but lacked the obviously fine quality of a wealthy man's. Yet they also weren't the low quality that you would associate with a laborer. All in all, there was nothing remarkable about him save for a large scar that ran diagonally across the side of his neck, one that you really wouldn't notice unless he turned his head a certain way. It came remarkably close to his jugular vein, giving the impression that he was quite lucky to be alive.
Chuckling, the man shook his head. "You Saiya-jin should learn to be more trusting. I'm not doing this because you have something I want. Would you have rather I left you in your pod forever?"
He turned away his head, ashamed to want death. There had certainly been people more worthy than he was that could have been spared. He had no idea that his feelings had a name... Survivor's Guilt... and wouldn't have cared even if he did.
"Do you have a name?" the man asked, prompting him to turn over again.
"Yes," he said quietly. "It's Vegeta. I used to be the crowned prince of the Saiya-jin." And then he fell apart, the tears coming without warning. His savior didn't utter a word or make any movement, knowing instinctively that any comfort he offered would not be appreciated. When Vegeta's tears had stopped, he silently offered him the handkerchief from his pocket.
"I would like something to eat and drink now," the boy said softly.
"Of course. It will only take me a moment."
He had remained with Baran until he could no longer ignore the unnameable urge rising inside of him that had begun with the onset of puberty. He had wanted something... no, had needed something... and could not figure out what it was. He had agonized over it for years, never saying a word to the man who had become a second father to him until he could bear it no more. Vegeta had been nineteen years old, then, and fully grown up.
So he'd left the planet Nede in the same spacecraft he'd landed in with enough supplies to journey a few light-years away and back. He'd had no idea where he was headed as he was simply following his instincts, using his body as a sort of primitive detection device.
He had visited several different planets before finally landing on Earth and the need was louder here. It made his body ache and respond in ways it had never done so before. He knew he was close to finally obtaining what he most desired and the anticipation filled with every moment of every day. It was all he could do to remain calm and aloof, to remain the unemotional bad boy that he knew he was deep down inside.
And now his very first concert was coming up. When he'd first landed on Chikyuu, becoming a J-Pop super star had been the last thing he'd expected to ever happen to him. In fact, he had never thought very much about his voice. People didn't wince when he sang and that had been the only thing important enough for him to notice.
But people really loved his voice. It was truly amazing. And combine his natural singing talent with his exotic good looks and even boys who'd previously thought they were as straight as rulers were lusting after him.
Vegeta no Ouji, now better known as Sican Danger, folded his arms behind his head and smiled up at the darkened ceiling of his bedroom. Something told him that his concert was going to be like nothing he had ever experienced before.
 = it means "Earth"
 = I'm not sure if this really exists or not and I don't care enough to look :)
 = it means "boss"
 = literally "Prince Vegeta"; the "no" particle is simply combining the two nouns
Author's Note #3: Yes, the Tokyo Dome really does exist. If you're interested, you can visit the official website here.
When Goku woke up the next day he felt pretty good and that hadn't happened in quite some time. Even though the dream was gone, it had left behind the lingering effects of serenity and joy. His penis did feel a little sore from his manhandling of it, but not as much as he'd thought it would. For once, he decided to rise on his own before it was time to do so and his grandfather was amazed to see him at the breakfast table before he'd even finished preparing the food.
"Ohayo, Goku. Is something wrong? I didn't even have to open the curtains in your room today."
The teen shook his head. "I just feel... good today, Ojiichan."
"Well, that's great." He dished up a plate of food for him. "I hope you continue to feel good."
Goku sighed softly and bent his head over his breakfast. "Me too."
He tried his best to return to the way he had been before Sican hit the scene, but the cheerfulness probably looked as forced to others as it felt to himself. None of his friends commented, however, probably because Buruma had told them not to.
During lunch, he saw Buruma motion for Yamucha and Kuririn to stay back while she approached him by herself. "Hey, Goku, how are you doing?" She sat down next to him so that she didn't appear threatening.
"Do we really have to talk about this here?" He looked around surreptitiously. No one was paying the slightest bit of attention to them besides his other two friends and they were doing their best to appear like they weren't.
"If we leave that'll look even stranger." Buruma fell silent, glancing around herself to see that no one was near enough to hear. She lowered her voice just in case. "Listen, Son-kun, it's okay if you like guys instead of girls. There's nothing wrong with it."
"How can you say that? I'm supposed to grow up, get married, and have at least one child."
"That's what they want you to believe," she said in a knowing tone.
"'They'?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face. His lunch was all but forgotten. "Who's 'They'?"
"'They'," she repeated, waving her hand through the air vaguely. "The members of society. Society dictates what's good and what's bad from a broad point of view, you know. If you really think about it, and try to do what's best for you, then things never seem as bad as They want you to believe." She waved her hand again, this time in a dismissing motion. "But I don't want to get into that. I have a present for you, Son-kun!" Buruma looked very satisfied with herself. "You don't have to hold back your affection, okay? Being able to show affection does not mean that you're soft."
His forehead wrinkled. "What are you talking about?"
She reached inside of her purse and dug around for a moment. Then she removed two slim pieces of paper and waved them in front of his face.
Goku took them from her. "What are these...?" He then proceeded to trail off, his mouth agape.
"Can you believe it, Son-kun? Two tickets to see Sican Danger live in concert at the Tokyo Dome! It's been sold out for weeks! A business associate of my father's gave them to him since he knew he had a teenage daughter. I was going to turn them down, but then I came over yesterday and you know."
Oh he knew all right. "Buruma, I can't accept these."
"Well, of course not. You'll only be accepting one. I'm going to use the other ticket."
"No, what I meant is that I can't go to the concert. I can't go see Sican."
She sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say something like that. Goku, you can't be the only boy who's ever-" Here she lowered her voice even further. "-masturbated to Sican Danger."
He allowed his head to sink onto the desk with a thunk, narrowly missing his lunch. "Buruma."
"Just think about it, okay? This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance... especially since the seats are in the 'A' row."
Goku's head snapped up. "You're joking."
"No," she grinned, "I'm not."
He was very close to giving in. Every cell in his body was screaming at him not to miss seeing Sican in person. His hand twitched to reach out and grab one of the tickets, but he was able to resist the temptation. "I'll think about it," he managed to say very calmly.
"Okay," his friend responded in the same deliberate tone. She then proceeded to pat him on the back before pulling a granola bar out of her purse.
The remainder of the school day passed relatively quickly for Goku since he was off in a universe entirely of his own making most of the time. He knew without a doubt that he would take that second ticket. There was no way he could pass up the chance to see the man of his dreams live in concert.
He was not preoccupied because he had a difficult decision to make regarding the concert ticket, he was preoccupied because he still didn't understand why he was so obsessed with Sican Danger when he had never had any sexual feelings for anyone ever before. The more he thought about that, the more abnormal he seemed. It was like puberty had ignored him until just a month before.
It wasn't until after school that he told Buruma of his decision. It was interesting to see her constantly give him secret winks in the hallways when she thought he wasn't looking. Neither Yamucha or Kuririn had any idea what was going on, which was just as well. He didn't think they would be okay with his insatiable lust for Sican. Not like Buruma was, anyway.
Buruma had to have run to his locker after her last class to have gotten there so quickly after the bell rang. He was just closing it when he saw her face.
"Oh, konnichi-wa, Buruma," he said cheerfully.
"Goku, tell me. Tell me now!"
"Well..." he said teasingly while bending down to slip on his outdoor shoes.
"Okay, okay! I'll go with you, Buruma. I can't not go." His eyes became vacant as he thought of how close he would be to Sican, how he would be breathing the same air. He could feel something begin to stir below the waist and quickly came back to the present before it became too noticeable. When he did so, he saw that his friend was staring at him with a strange expression.
She merely shook her head. "I don't think I want to know what you were thinking about, but I'm sure I can guess." Then she pointedly looked down and he followed her gaze. His pants were fitting a little snug around the crotch area. He blushed and quickly dangled his backpack in front of himself.
"So, Buruma," he began as they were leaving campus. He had a feeling that she had told their other two friends to stay away because they were nowhere in sight. "...don't you think Sican is cute?"
"'Cute' is not the word, Son-kun. He's hot, he's sexy, he's... breathtakingly handsome. 'Cute' is what you call puppies and small children."
"I'll definitely accept 'sexy'. Every time I think about him, he gives me the 'funny feeling'."
"The what?" Then she thought about the context and was barely able to keep herself from laughing. "It's called an orgasm, Goku."
"Oh," he blushed. "Right."
Buruma almost couldn't believe she was talking about boys with Goku, the boy who thought he was the only person in history to ever have sexual feelings for someone of the same gender. She beamed when she thought of just how far he'd come.
"What's different with you?" she asked. "I mean, why are you all of a sudden able to talk about this?"
He thought about the dream he had that morning and a soft smile spread across his face. "It's nothing. I just feel good today, that's all. It's pointless for me to keep worrying about why I like Sican, isn't it? I should just accept that I do."
"Right!" she agreed immediately. "You like what you like."
Buruma hoped that he truly believed that in his heart of hearts that there was nothing wrong with him. If not, he would always have problems accepting the truth about himself, never really allowing himself to be happy because of it. "Goku, let's go to my house. I'll help you with your homework."
"Okay," he agreed, no trace of worry on his face.
But how long would this new attitude last?
The remainder of the week passed quickly and soon it was Saturday. Goku had woken up at the crack of dawn, too excited to stay asleep any longer. To consume time, he surprised his grandfather with breakfast, he cleaned his room, and he did all of his weekend homework. Unfortunately, he was bored by lunchtime and there were still several hours to go before Buruma would be by to pick him up.
"Goku, you're wearing a hole in the tatami," Gohan said after the thirtieth time his grandson had crossed in front of him.
"I'm sorry, but I just can't sit still. I can't believe I'm going to a concert!"
Gohan studied him carefully and almost chuckled at the dazed expresion on Goku's face. Then he noticed that his innocent grandson was physically responding to whatever he was thinking about. "You said that you are going to see Sican Danger, correct?" When he didn't receive a response, he said, "Goku?"
The teen blinked. "Ojiichan? Did you say something?"
"You're going to see Sican Danger?"
"Yeah. I told you that a few days ago, remember?"
"I remember," Gohan said drolly. "My mind isn't that far gone yet." Goku had the grace to blush. "Is there something you want to tell me? I mean, anything at all?"
"Um, no. Not that I can think of."
"You're absolutely certain?" This time Gohan fixed his gaze directly on the bulge in Goku's pants. His grandson followed his eyes and finally realized what he was talking about. First he went red, then all of the blood drained away, leaving him pale and sickly. Goku's eyes darted to the hallway that led to his bedroom, but Gohan stopped him before he could run away.
When they'd had their talk a week before, Goku hadn't said much about what was bothering him. In fact, Gohan had done most of the talking by trying to get his grandson to open up to him. He had never discovered what was bothering him then, but now he had an inkling.
"Goku, sit down here beside me." He patted the place on the sofa with his left hand. His grandson walked over with resignation as if his life would end once he arrived at his destination. "I'm not angry at you. I'm not even disappointed. I see how much this is bothering you and I would never want to add to your worries. When did you first begin to realize that you, ah-" Gohan searched for the right word. "-like other boys?"
"I don't like other boys."
"I don't like other boys, Ojiichan, I just like Sican and he's a man."
Gohan rolled his eyes at his specification. "Other males, then."
"It wasn't that long ago. Only a month. I saw Sican on TV and he hasn't been out of my mind since." He smiled involuntarily. "There's something about him that draws me in, something I can't ignore even though I've tried. I have never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want him."
"I can't say that I entirely understand your desire for him," Gohan admitted. "But I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't. However, I don't think you really have a chance with him so don't get your hopes up. For one, he's much too old for you. And then there's the matter of his fame."
Sighing, Goku said, "I know. It's good enough that I get to see him in person and maybe get his autograph." He told himself that he wasn't expecting too much, but he knew that he was. The thought of Sican completely ignoring him was too sad so he convinced himself that there was a slim chance that he could have his "happily ever after" with Sican Danger. It was stupid, he knew, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that at least he wasn't completely deluded.
Time continued to slip by slowly for the rest of the afternoon. An hour before Buruma was due to arrive, he went to get dressed. No orange gi for him, tonight he would be wearing an outfit Buruma had purchased for him just a few days ago: crisp black slacks with neat creases and a deep red dress shirt. He had even gotten new shoes.
When he walked out into the living room, his grandfather applauded. "Did Buruma buy you that? It makes you look civilized for a change."
"Ah, Ojiichan," he mumbled. "I'm going to pay her back as soon as I can."
"That's good," he said, turning back to his television program. Goku took a seat beside him and tried to concentrate on the screen. He knew it was futile from the very start.
Fortunately for both Goku's sanity and Gohan's patience, the knock on the door came earlier than he expected. The teen was up and at the door before Buruma had even finished.
"Konban-wa, Buruma. You look nice. Can we leave now? I'm all ready." He said this all in one breath, nearly too fast for his friend to understand him.
Buruma was wearing, not a dress as Goku had been expecting, but tight lowrise flared blue jeans and a dark cranberry shirt with blue flowers on it whose long sleeves flared out from elbow to wrist. She had on dangly cranberry-colored earrings and a necklace with a small Celtic charm dangling from it. He had never seen this jewelry before.
"Yes, we can leave," she laughed. "Just let me say hi to Gohan-san first."
Goku anxiously shifted from one foot to the other while Buruma had a short conversation with his grandfather. Just when he was close to grabbing her arm and dragging her out of the house, she said goodbye and followed Goku through the door.
Again, he could hardly wait for her, this time it concerned the hovercar doors. The moment she pressed the button on the remote attached to her key chain, he had the door open and was settling himself in the seat. "Let's go, Buruma!"
She tapped the code to start the car into the console. "Let's go," she agreed.
 = it means literally "good afternoon", but it can also just mean "hello"
 = these are woven straw mats used in traditional Japanese homes as flooring
 = it means "good evening"
The very queer make-up guy whose name he hadn't bothered to remember was marking up his face with an eyeliner pencil when he felt a strange sensation go through his entire body. It was like he had been struck by lightning, not that he would know what that felt like firsthand, but he could imagine. It felt like every nerve ending in his body had been rubbed with a scouring pad but it wasn't really a painful sensation, just uncomfortable. Sican's body went completely rigid and his eyes closed tighter as he tried to figure out what had caused it.
"Sir," the makeup guy lisped, "you must not move."
"I wonder why no one has told you that being stereotypically gay is really not attractive," Sican said aloud. "And if they have, why haven't you listened to them?"
Make-Up Guy made an offended, girly sound and Sican let out a snort. "You must really like being alone."
The sensation faded before he could figure it out, but not completely. He could feel it like the weight of a light blanket: there but nearly insubstantial. He would be aware of it, but it would not distract him from his performance.
"Are you finished yet?" he asked after ten more minutes of Make-Up Guy's fussing.
"Almost," he trilled. He smoothed on a little more make-up over Sican's cheekbones. "There. All done."
The rock star stood up and looked at himself in the lighted mirror over the table and his eyes widened. "I look like a fucking drag queen!"
"But a sexy one," the makeup artist said with a wink.
"Just get out," Sican said in disgust. "Go!" He went, but not without one last lingering look.
Sican resisted the urge to wash his face because he didn't want to go through that torture again anytime soon and spun around to face the man sitting in the corner of the room. "Ashikara!"
The man bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the interesting combination the irritation and makeup made. "You bellowed, Sican?"
"That guy is to never work on me again, is that clear?"
"Crystal." He glanced down at his watch just so that he was able to break eye contact. "There's about twenty minutes remaining until the opening act goes on. You want something to drink?"
"I want to be left alone."
"Fine then." Ashikara rose and pulled out his cell phone, dialing even as he exited the room. "I hope you and your surliness have a wonderful time together."
"Get out." He went, but not without one final parting shot.
"Look, Sican, the tough guy act works well on stage, but you don't have to act that way all the time."
He looked so offended that Ashikara had to stifle his laughter once more. "What act? This isn't an act."
"Keep telling yourself that, Vegeta." His manager nodded once in parting, then exited the dressing room. Vegeta sat down heavily in the chair he'd occupied for the past hour and let out a slow, careful breath. He would not let what Ashikara said affect him. He was stronger than that.
Or was he?
It took Buruma twenty minutes to find a parking space and Goku spent the entire time with his face plastered to the window. There were all kinds of people heading for the entrance to the Tokyo Dome from teenagers with hair in colors that could not be found in nature to squealing fangirls in their thirties wearing fancy dresses and holding signs that read, "Sican o bokutachi wa aisurimasu!".
"This is great!" Goku exclaimed.
"You haven't seen anything yet," she said with a grin.
They joined the throngs of Sican Danger fans and stepped into the huge arena, passing tables of concert paraphernalia such as t-shirts, posters, and glossy 8x10 photos just waiting to be autographed. Goku looked at everything with his mouth open, desperately wanting to buy something to commemorate the day. Buruma noticed this and smiled to herself.
"You want something, Son-kun?"
He looked at her with a hopeful expression. "Will you buy me something? Please?"
"Sure. An overpriced t-shirt or two won't break the bank. Go pick out whatever you want."
"Really? Domo arigatou, Buruma!" He dashed over to the table and began to examine the example shirts hanging above the booth. In a few seconds he saw the perfect one. Sican was standing alone surrounded by darkness, his face tilted upwards towards the heavens. His eyes were closed and there was such an expression of bliss on his face that he couldn't resist it.
It cost nearly 3500 yen, but he felt it was worth every sen. He pulled it over his head immediately and settled it over his dress shirt. Goku also had Buruma buy him a poster and Sican was shirtless in it.
"You have your ticket ready?" his friend asked as they approached the gate.
For one panicked moment, Goku thought he had lost the ticket and that he would never get to see Sican in person. He frantically dug his hands into his pants pockets several times and could not find it. Buruma sighed, then, and reached into her purse to pull out his ticket along with her own.
"I've always had it, remember? I never gave it to you. And for good reason."
"Okay, okay; I understand. Give it to me now."
"I don't think so." She handed both their tickets to the young usher, who looked at them for a moment before giving them back the stubs. "These are very good seats," he said with a smile. His attention was more on Buruma than on Goku, however. "Go through this gate and down to the front. Then all you have to do is go left until you reach your seats."
"Thank you very much," she said with a flirtatious smile. "How long will you be here after the concert?"
"Oh, for a little while."
"Maybe I'll come back to see you, then. I wouldn't want you to be lonely."
Throughout the entire conversation, Goku was successful at keeping his eyes from rolling. It was Buruma's last sentence that overpowered him. "Let's go, Buruma," he said before any other stupid lines could come out of her mouth.
"Alright, Son-kun. I'll see you a little later," she said to the usher.
They found their seats easily and they were as good as Buruma had said. The Tokyo Dome was a big stadium where they usually held sports games so their seats were by the first base line. He would be close enough to see the expression on Sican's face without having to consult the giant monitor on the stage behind him.
"This- This-" There were no words to describe how wonderful he felt, but Buruma seemed to understand.
It took about twenty-five minutes for the bright lights positioned everywhere to dim. The enormous crowd grew quiet in anticipation, Goku right along with them. When a band that was completely unfamiliar to him took the stage, he wondered what was going on.
"The opening act," she said immediately. "Just sit back and relax for a little while. You'll get to see the man of your dreams soon."
His first thought was to pout like a small child, but he simply sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. He was giving them only a few minutes before he started to complain.
Sican pulled on his second black leather fingerless glove, allowing his wardrobe manager to fasten the shiny silver buckle. He always waited until the very last minute to put them on because it was usually too hot for his hands to be encased in leather. He allowed Minako to look him over to see if his image was intact, but he could have told her himself that he looked the part of "badass" completely.
There was a knock on the dressing room door. "Sican, you're on in five," said Ashikara. The singer smirked at himself in the mirror. "I'm ready."
He met the three young men who did the music on all his songs on his way down the long hall that led to the field and the stage. Daisuke, an unusually tall Japanese man with cherry red hair, was on guitar; Kentaro, who was average in just about every way, was on synthesizer; and Jeff, a fair-haired British man, was on drums. They had an amiable working relationship, but he wasn't the least bit close to them. He knew they sometimes went out clubbing together and was okay with it as long as it didn't negatively affect the way they behaved around each other at work.
"Hey, Sican, you ready?" Jeff asked, twirling his guitar sticks playfully in his fingers.
The new king of rock smirked and donned a pair of dark sunglasses before affixing a wireless microphone to his shirt collar. "I was born ready."
The music ended and the crowd let out a roar that could be either from appreciation or from gratitude that they were finally finished. There were probably more than a few people who felt the latter. Sican barely waited for the warm-up band to leave the stage before he was marching out onto the field and climbing the thin metal stairs. His bandmates were right behind him.
He took his place center stage and waited for the cue. It came in both light and sound forms. Daisuke struck a chord on his guitar, which was the signal for the lights to come up. The moment he came into view, the crowd screamed with delight and the volume was far louder than it had been for the opening act. He smiled to himself and waited for the music to officially begin.
Sican gyrated, pranced, stalked, and undulated to the music without all of the fancy choreography that typical J-Pop stars favored. It was enough for the audience just to see him move to the beat. He went through every song he had, which weren't even enough to record on one CD, before launching into his new one. The crowd fell silent for a moment before going absolutely insane.
tooku de me o hikarasete
mezameru monotachi matte iru
yoru no jouheki sasowarete
utsurisumu mure no nukegara ni
He moved towards the staircase on the right, which wasn't at all in the plan. He could feel the confused gazes of his bandmates on his back, but he ignored him. All of a sudden, the uncomfortable electric feeling had grown stronger.
(deguchi no nai) shougeki ni taeru tsumori nara
(kuzureru hodo) itsuwari o misete
He was down the stairs of the stage and was crossing the field over to the stairs that led up to the locked gate that separated the spectators from the sport. He grasped the cold metal in his hand and snapped the padlock and chain with little effort. They were here. The one he'd been seeking for what seemed like forever was only a few dozen feet away. He could hardly contain himself, but he had to for the sake of his performance. Thinking quickly, he decided to draw him or her into his act as if he had planned to do so all along.
umarekawareru anata yo hitori hohoemanaide
hitomi o irodoru
nozonda sekai ga totsuzen
hai ni natte mo kiseki ni mada meguriaeru
His eyes flitted over everyone. Girls were screaming and fainting the moment he locked gazes with them, not even minding that he only did so for as long as it took to reject them.
Then he saw him. He was a lot younger than he'd expected, probably still considered a child by his society. One look at the boy and he knew that he was Saiya-jin.
Sican held out his hand to him and watched the boy simply stare at it in disbelief. He looked away for just an instant at the girl next to him as if she would tell him what to do in the surprising situation he suddenly found himself in, but she was of no help since she was doing a lot of staring of her own. Sican grasped the teen's hand himself and pulled him up slightly so that their faces were only inches apart. When their eyes met for the very first time, they each could feel the electricity flowing through their bodies.
(sotto dakishimete kowasu you ni)
The teen was pulled along with him as the singer retraced his route through his fans, across the field, and up onto the stage.
muku na mama de sarasarete
hanabira o chirasu hana no you ni
migaku houseki te no naka no
hibi ni sae kizukihajimeteru
(tsumetai te ga) nukeochita toge o hirou kara
(madoromu hi ga) kusuburitsuzukeru
The boy just stood there frozen with a wide-eyed look on his pale face. He almost didn't look like he was breathing. Sican brought up one hand to caress his cheek, singing the next lines directly to him.
ima mo todokanu hikari no yukue
azayaka ni mau omoi o egakou
michibiku kotoba ga koborete shimawanu you ni
utsuru toki o osorenaide
(deguchi mo naku) (kuzureochiru)
Daisuke launched into his mini solo with Kentaro and Jeff joining him a moment later. Sican smiled at his prey. 'I want you,' he mouthed to him, loving the way the boy blushed.
umarekawari no anata yo hitori
hohoemanaide hitomi o irodoru
nozonda sekai ga totsuzen hai ni natte mo
kiseki wa mada megurikuru
todokanu hikari no yukue
azayaka ni mau omoi o egakou
michibiku kotoba ga koborete shimawanu you ni
utsuru toki o osorenaide
Sican cupped the teen's face and leaned in close to him so that their lips nearly touched. He practically whispered the final words of the song, his eyes never breaking contact with his soulmate's.
(sotto dakishimete zutto tsukamaete motto kokoro made kowasu you ni)
 = it means "We love Sican!", but don't quote me on this (I think I screwed up the verb)
 = it means "thank you very much"
 = about 29.50 U.S. dollars
Author's Note #4.1: I've never been to a concert before, so forgive any errors that I've made. Also, I've never been to Japan let alone the Tokyo Dome (yet, anyway) so if you have been, please excuse the liberties I've taken with the arrangement of everything.
Author's Note #4.2: The last line of this song (which is my favorite) sotto dakishimete, zutto tsukamaete, motto kokoro made kowasu you ni means in English "hold me gently, always catch me, more and more in order to break my heart". I interpret "break" in this sense as "tame" so it fits Goku and Vegeta (in my opinion, anyway).
Goku felt bad for abandoning his friend (especially when he really wanted her nearby because he had no idea what was going on). He was sitting in a small dressing room very stiffly and uncertainly and had been since Sican steered him towards the side of the stage when a short man whose hair had vanished some time ago took his arm and steered him away. Now he had been sitting in that room for what seemed to be hours and there was still no sign of Sican Danger.
Then the door opened. "Hey, kid, how are you doing?"
"My name is Goku."
"Fine, Fine. Goku."
"What am I doing here?"
Ashikara walked over and stood in front of him. "To be honest, I don't know. Sican has never done anything like this before."
His heart began to pound even harder in his chest. Had never done anything like this before? That meant he was special! "Why do you think I'm here, then?"
"He likes you," Ashikara said, stating the obvious. He walked over to the small refrigerator in the corner and offered Goku a drink from it, that he declined. The manager pulled out a bottle of juice and took a long pull from it.
"How much longer do I have to wait?"
"That's why I came in here, ki-" He faltered at the stern look from the teen. "Er, Goku. He's just doing a short encore and should be in here momentarily."
Goku fell silent, then, and his mind began to race again. Sican had led him from the audience. Him! And he had sung to him and told him that he wanted him.
But he was just a teenager and Sican had to be at least twenty. What would he want with him?
Then the door was opening again and he wasn't able to think because his breath had been stole and his train of thought had derailed, killing all onboard. Sican had the bottom of his shirt in his hands and was using it to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Goku's eyes traced every defined muscle in his abdomen, his upper body moving towards him of its own free will. He followed the narrow line of dark hair that trailed down into his lowrise jeans and nearly moaned.
"Ashikara, you can leave now," Sican said without bothering to look at him.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Fine, I'll go. But when his pissed off parents try to get you for statutory rape I'm going to deny all knowledge of this."
"Get out!" As soon as his manager was through the door, he slammed it shut and locked it. Goku heard that soft click like the sealing of his fate. "Now, what is your name?"
"G-Goku. Son Goku." He swallowed reflexively.
Sican came closer and grabbed the stool by the makeup table on his way by. He perched in front of Goku and shook his head. "No it's not. But my name isn't Sican Danger, either."
Vegeta raised his hand and touched Goku's cheek in the exact same way he'd touched him on stage. A jolt of something electric shot through him. "Do you feel that?" he whispered. "We have a connection. I can't explain it, but we do. I have searched for you all of my life, and sometimes I thought I would never find you."
"W-what?" Was all that Goku could say. It was like all of his dreams had come true, but everything was strange at the very same time. "A connection?" He started to shake his head in denial, but then he thought about it. It had only taken one brief moment of seeing Sican on television and he hadn't been able to take his mind off him since.
The singer's hands cradled his face gently between them. "We are the sole survivors of a race of warriors called the Saiya-jin."
"No..." he whispered, not wanting to believe that he was really that different from everyone he cared about. But deep within his heart he had known all along.
"Your true name is Kakarotto and you were my companion as a child. Your father was my own father's closest friend and advisor."
A single tear slipped free and traced a salty path down his cheek and Vegeta brushed it away gently with his thumb. "Why I am here on Chikyuu?"
"A Changeling named Furiza came to Vegeta. He feared what the Saiya-jin could become so most of us were killed. I had hoped..." It was his turn to trail off as emotion overwhelmed him. "I had hoped that you had somehow survived. As a child, I had dreamed of us becoming one, though it went against my father's teachings. I could not imagine a life without you by my side. I still can't."
It was all too much. Goku grabbed Vegeta's wrists and freed himself from his hold. "I'm just a kid! A normal human kid! I don't know why you want anything to do with me." He was babbling and couldn't stop himself. The intensity of Vegeta's words -- the intensity of his own feelings -- was quickly overwhelming him. He could not breathe and the world was growing dark.
"Fuck!" Vegeta cursed. He grabbed the swaying teen and guided him to a chair. "Stay with me, Kakarotto. Damn, I shouldn't have said so much. I've had years to deal with this, but you're only learning of it right now."
Goku's eyes slipped closed and he sighed. "I don't know what to believe anymore," he said quietly. "Nothing makes sense."
"Just rest," Vegeta told him. "We can talk about this later."
Goku gratefully allowed himself to sink into welcoming darkness and Vegeta watched over him like a worried mother hen.
When he awoke again, Vegeta was no where in sight. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was far past the time he had been due home. He knew his grandfather would be worried about him and hoped that Buruma hadn't gone home yet since she was his ride. Goku sat up on the small sofa he was lying on and got to his feet.
"So you finally decide to rejoin the living," Vegeta said from a corner, startling Goku out of a few years of life.
"You were watching me sleep?" the teen asked, embarrassed. He hoped he hadn't talked in his sleep or drooled on the sofa.
"Yes. You looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you." The man, now dressed in an ordinary pair of light stonewash jeans and a loose t-shirt, moved closer and began to examine him. "Everything seems okay."
Goku just barely stopped himself from kissing the smaller man. "Who are you? You never did tell me."
"My name is Vegeta," he answered.
The name struck a familiar chord within him and his mind briefly overlaid an image of a little boy who looked remarkably like the man standing before him. "Veja," he whispered. "You're Veja."
His expression didn't change but his eyes smiled at him. "That's what you used to call me when you were too little to say my whole name."
"How could I forget you?" Other memories were returning to him. He could picture his father standing tall before him, the man who everyone said he looked exactly like. He remembered the king, who Vegeta strongly resembled, and he remembered the old stone palace where they used to play.
"Your mind was probably sheltering you from what had happened. I wish mine would." Every time he thought of Furiza's attack he was assaulted by memories of explosions, screams, and the scent of burning flesh. He had thought he would never be able to continue learning about combat for a long time afterward, but eventually made up his mind to never again be as helpless as he was that day. Kakarotto had forgotten everything associated with Vegeta-sei and seemed better off for it. Even if he had never been remembered, Vegeta would have been content with the knowledge that his childhood friend was doing well.
"It was bad?"
"The worst thing I've ever experienced in my life," he said honestly. "I'm glad you don't remember."
"I'm not," he told him. "It obviously hurts you to think about it and I want to share the burden with you. How did I get here on Chikyuu?"
He could remember it clearly. His father and Bardock carried them through secret hallways in the palace after Furiza's soldiers invaded. All around them he could hear the battle cries of his father's men as they challenged them and later their screams as their lives were brutally ended. Underneath the sounds of battle you could hear explosions in the distance that did a lot to explain the flames he spotted whenever they passed a window. Kakarotto was whimpering in Bardock's arms, his little face pressed tightly against his neck. Vegeta was silent, watching and waiting for the end he knew was near. But he wouldn't go down without a fight. He was trained in combat and would die defending his father, his "uncle" Bardock, and his very best friend. The saddest thing about it all had not been the countless deaths, or the destruction of the great palace on the hill and the city that lay at the foot of it, but the fact that he and Kakarotto would not be able to spend a long and happy life together.
"Our fathers put us each inside a small escape pod," he said, his voice soft. "The last thing I can remember clearly is the sight of Planet Vegeta being transformed into space debris by Furiza. My pod made it to Nede and a man named Baran took care of me until I couldn't bear to stay there any longer. Something deep inside was urging me to search for my soulmate."
Goku tried hard to remember Planet Vegeta and the time he'd spent there more clearly but could not. He couldn't even remember the trip in the pod or the day he'd been found by his grandfather. It was all in the past and had very little importance in the present and the future but he still wanted to remember.
"Stop it," Vegeta said sternly. "Stop trying to recall what happened. It'll just give you nightmares and I don't want you to have to deal with it."
Smiling, Goku leaned in closer to the man who'd stolen his heart. "You know, you're a really nice guy. Nothing at all like how I'd expected you to be."
"I'm nice around you. Around everyone else I'm a cold-hearted bastard. How could I be like that around my soulmate?"
"Soul...mate...?" Goku stared at him. When the term had been used before he hadn't really paid attention. "I'm your soulmate?"
"You felt the pull as strongly as I have, I know you did. It was in your eyes when I pulled you from the crowd." Seeing that he wasn't explaining things very well, Vegeta took a seat beside Goku and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Saiya-jin form connections with the person most suited for them. Both people involved feel the urge to find their other half and sometimes they never can. If they don't, usually they settle for second best or spend their entire lives going from person to person, trying to calm the need. My father called this our curse."
"Do you feel the same way?"
"No. I consider this a blessing. I've found you and we have started to form a stronger bond. It was bad when a person couldn't find their soulmate, however. It was especially bad when they found them and then they died. The bond fragments and you feel like someone's ripped out half your soul."
Eyes wide, Goku said, "Kami!"
"Yeah. But most of the time the survivor committed suicide to join their mate. It's the only type of suicide that was socially acceptable. I can see why he called it our curse because the Saiya-jin race was a warrior one. The odds that a bondmate would die were pretty high. But when you've found the person that you've been searching for, nothing compares to it. You'll love being half a bond and you'll do anything to keep your soulmate alive. That's why I also think it's our greatest strength."
"I understand. But it's weird to know that there's someone out there meant especially for you. Weird, but nice." He smiled happily to himself for a moment before reality decided to intrude. Someone knocked on the door. Loudly. Goku jumped in startlement and his head moved to look at it.
"I think that's my friend Buruma," he said. "I pretty much abandoned her."
"Son Goku, open this door right now! I'm tired of waiting and your grandfather's probably worried half to death!"
"Yeah, I need to go home. Ojiichan doesn't have a phone so I can't call him." He got up and started for the door, then paused. "Veja, when can I see you again?"
"Give me your address; I'll arrange something. Kakarotto, you're still a kid on this planet. You have to finish school. I doubt we'll be able to be together permanently until you do that."
He hadn't thought about that. There was no way he was going to disappoint his grandfather by dropping out of school no matter how much he wanted to. It would definitely be a test of his willpower to see high school through to the end. As he wrote down both the address of his home as well as the address of his school, Buruma grew more annoyed and began pounding on the door even harder. Goku shouted for her to hold on then stuck the piece of paper into Vegeta's pants pocket. "I would kiss you goodbye," he said, "but if I do, I don't think I'll be able to stay away from you."
Eyes heavy-lidded, the former prince smirked. "I can barely keep myself away from you now. You better go before I deflower you."
Cheeks red, Goku did as told, but not without one final look back. Vegeta stood there, hands behind his back, a leering look on his face. Not able to stop his eyes from roaming, Goku noticed that his pants were fitting pretty snug around the crotch area all of a sudden. This pulled an answering response from his own groin. He opened the door without looking and jumped when Buruma's hands grabbed on tightly to his upper arms, her long fingernails digging in.
"Do you know how long I been out here waiting for you?!"
"Hi Buruma. This is Vegeta. He's my soulmate." He began to laugh as the impact of his final few words on hit friend. "Hai, we're meant to be together!"
"Overall, he's accepting this pretty well," Vegeta told her. "I thought he would be in denial for at least a few days."
"Why bother? I know you're telling the truth. I can feel it." His voice was playful and there was a big grin on his face. He felt like every wish he'd ever had had come true all at once. "Ja ne, Vegeta. You better not take too long to get in touch with me or I'll have to come after you." He blew him a kiss and practically skipped out of the door. Buruma followed with a dazed look on her face.
Once they were out of the arena, Buruma stopped in her tracks. "Son-kun, what the hell is going on?"
"It's a long story. I'll tell you on the way back to my house."
"Tell me something now. How do you know Sican Danger? Why were you holding out on me?"
"I don't know him. At least, not well. I know Vegeta, though. We were best friends when we were little kids." His words did nothing to alleviate her confusion. "See, I told you it was a long story. C'mon, I need to get home."
"Alright, but I'm not going to let you out of the car until I get some answers."
"Okay, but what I tell you might give you more questions. You'll have to talk to Veja if you're still confused."
"Talk to Sican Danger?" Her expression was a mix of both anticipation and intimidation.
"Yeah, he's not so scary. I'll make sure I'm with you so he'll be nice." She stared at him again and he laughed. "That's part of the story."
One Year Later...
"C'mon, Goku, if you're late for Vegeta's farewell concert he's going to kill me!" Buruma tugged on her best friend's arm and tried to drag him out of the bathroom.
"Well, he sure as hell won't kill you and he'll need someone to blame."
His lips twitched briefly in amusement, then his brow furrowed again as he examined himself in the mirror over the sink. "I'm still not sure if this shirt is the one I should wear. Veja likes me in red more than blue."
"It's too late to change now. Yamucha and Kuririn are waiting for us outside."
He smiled as he thought of his other two best friends. When they'd found out about the somewhat intimate relationship he had with Vegeta, they had reacted pretty badly at first. Once they realized that Goku hadn't changed (and, no, he wasn't going to start wearing make-up and loudly-patterned clothing) they had been firmly in his corner. They still didn't entirely understand why he would want to be with another male, but at least they continued to try.
Buruma, once she'd gotten over her little fear of speaking to Vegeta, had formed a friendship with him. They were a lot alike in personality and said friendship was often expressed by insulting each other. However, Goku knew without a doubt that they were undivided when it came to the subject of his happiness. That meant that they would at least try to get along for his sake if nothing else.
Not wanting to miss Vegeta before he went onstage, Goku flicked off the light and followed his friend out of the small home. His grandfather looked up from the television as he went by and whistled. "Am I to expect you home later? Or are you going to spend the night with Vegeta?"
"Ojiichan!" Goku exclaimed, his cheeks hot.
"Goku, you're over the age of consent and I understand the relationship you two have. Tonight's going to be exciting and things might get out of hand. That's why I'm giving you my blessing."
"But it's weird to hear you tell me that it's okay for Veja and I to... you know."
Gohan chuckled. "It's okay for you to say it, Goku. Sex. Making love. Fu-"
"YAMERO!" both teens shouted in unison. Hearing Gohan say that word would give them visions they definitely didn't want running through their minds. "We're leaving now, Ojiichan," said Goku at a much lower volume. "I'll see you... later."
And before Gohan could say anything else, they were out of the door and climbing into Buruma's car.
It had grown progressively harder to stop themselves from getting naked and horizontal. The "no kissing" rule had lasted all of a month and since then the "hands above the waist" rule had gone south as well. Handjobs were all that they'd exchanged so far, but Goku had come quite close to giving his beloved a little mouth-to-mouth just last week. If given half the chance, he would be penetrated in no time.
Goku was now familiar to Ashikara and the regular staff that surrounded Sican Danger so they let him backstage without requiring him to show a VIP pass. His friends came along with him and would be watching the concert from a special seating area. Goku left them by the snack table and headed straight for Vegeta's dressing room. Before he was even within three feet of it, he could hear his soulmate's voice from inside and he was yelling at poor Ashikara.
"Go look again! If they're keeping him out I'm going to rip someone's head off!" He sounded uncharacteristically panicked and that was all Goku needed to hear before he turned the doorknob and let himself in.
"Sican, please," Ashikara began but stopped when he realized that the star wasn't even looking at him anymore. The short man spun around and the look of relief that took over his face as soon as he spotted Goku made him look decades younger. "Thank Kami you're here. He's nearly apoplectic."
"I can take over now, Ashikara-san."
"How many times have I told you to call me Tojiro? I especially don't mind now since you're my new best friend and all. I'll go see if everything and everyone is ready to go." He gave Goku one more look of utter relief before leaving and closing the door behind him.
Goku walked up to Vegeta and placed his hands on his hips playfully. "How many times have I told you to stop scaring the help? There won't be anyone left willing to work for you soon."
In one quick movement, Vegeta grabbed him and pulled him down into his lap. Seing as Goku was over six inches taller, Vegeta's face was about chest level. Immediately he began to nuzzle the soft skin he found behind Goku's open shirt collar, pausing every few moments to deposit a kiss. "I'm so glad you're here."
"I've been hearing that a lot lately," he joked. When he didn't draw even a polite chuckle from Vegeta, he pulled away slightly and looked down. "What's wrong?"
"I have a plan for the concert but I needed you to be here for me to execute it. Kakarotto, I want you to go out on stage with me for the last song."
Goku moved back even farther so that he could meet his beloved's eyes. "You want me to what?"
"You won't have to do anything but sit in a chair. I want everyone to see you, to know that I'm in love with you. I was asked about my love life during a recent interview, as per usual, but I told the interviewer this time that I had a surprise for everyone at my concert. Well, you're the surprise."
He stared at the hopeful look on his face then shook his head. "While I'm happy you want to show me off, you should have asked first. Or at least told me about it before today. You're going to have to make this up to me later."
"Make it up how?"
"Oh, I'll think of something. Now let me go. You have a show to put on." He kissed him slow and deep for good luck before leaving his comfortable seat.
Before he left the dressing room, Vegeta said one last thing. "Ashikara will tell you when it's time. Just come out on stage and sit in the chair. I'll do the rest."
"Okay, Veja. I'll see you later." He tossed him a wave and went to sit with his friends.
Buruma couldn't help teasing him. "You sure took a long time, but not nearly long enough to do a certain something. Did you leave Vegeta with a case of blue balls?" Yamucha and Kuririn groaned and covered their ears.
Ignoring them, he said, "His balls are fine, thank you. We mostly talked. Apparently he wants me to go on stage with him later."
"You? Go on stage at a concert? I hope he doesn't expect you to sing 'cause I doubt all those people came here to hear your imitation of a dying cow."
"My singing's not that bad!"
"Oh, really?" Yamucha said. "When we went out to the karaoke bar last week and you did Baby One More Time I wanted to knock you unconscious."
Goku glared at him. "Like you could do any better."
"I know I couldn't, but at least I don't continue to try."
"Boys, boys, the show's about to start. Son-kun, blow your sweetie a kiss. He's waiting for it, I think." Vegeta was indeed waiting in the wings, his dark, unfathomable eyes locked on Goku. But that wasn't anything unusual. They'd both found that it was nigh on impossible to not look at each other every five minutes as if they were trying to reassure themselves that the other was still alive. Not that they wouldn't know if their soulmate had expired, but it was still nice to have visual confirmation.
"No, he just likes looking at me. I know I like looking at him."
"Yeah..." Buruma agreed with a dreamy look on his face. "I could look at him all day." She smiled sheepishly when she saw her boyfriend frowning at her. "Not that I don't like looking at you, Yamucha sweetheart," she said quickly.
The lights suddenly dimmed and then Sican Danger was running out onstage to the adoration of his fans. All 55,000 seats of the Tokyo Dome were filled and there were at least two million more fans watching from the comfort of their homes. Many people still wondered how Sican Danger had become so popular in such a short span of time, but sometimes things just worked out that way.
He went through every song he ever produced, which really wasn't many as he'd only been a rock star for a little over a year. He had only one album: Pure Magnetism and it was dedicated to his soulmate. While many of his songs had been about loneliness and need, the ones he'd recorded after Goku came into his life were far different. Oh, the need was still present, but it wasn't nearly as all-consuming.
When the stage went dark in preparation for the final song, Goku quickly made his way out into position. There were a few dim lights still lit so that he could find his way, but from the audience's point-of-view the stage and its occupants were nearly indistinguishable from the darkness. When the lights came back up, Sican was sitting on Goku's lap, his arm wound around his neck. The arrangement of his final song could still be considered rock'n'roll in nature, but it was a softer and gentler version.
There are stories told about the mates of old
About a love that transcends time
That everyone has a matching half
And I think I have found mine
Every day is lived for him
Every moment apart is a strain
I find excuses to visit him
And he has done the same
You look at me with trusting eyes
Your hands lay soft touches upon my skin
Your body language tells no lies
I keep your love within
Rising, Vegeta moved a few steps away so that he wouldn't lose his composure completely and then continued.
Were we lovers in days long past?
Or did our paths never cross?
Through our lives did our love last?
Or did we suffer loss?
Earnestly he sang, trying to impart exactly how he felt with his voice alone. His eyes were too busy trying to keep unexpected tears at bay to do much communicating. Goku, on the other hand, allowed his tears to run unchecked.
Now that I have you near
My darkest days are now my best
Everything is now so clear
Our love can take any test
Moving closer again, Vegeta braced himself with his hands on the back of the chair and leaned in close so that he was mere inches from the younger Saiya-jin's eyes. He straddled Goku's lap, not quite sitting down.
You look at me with trusting eyes
Your hands lay soft touches upon my skin
Your body language tells no lies
I keep your love within
Goku's eyes locked with those of the man leaning over his body and he whispered deeply and meaningfully. Sensitive as it was, the wireless mic picked up every word and transmitted them into the ears of millions. "I keep your love within.
 = it means "stop" (but you probably guessed that)
Author's Note #5: So this is it, Indescribable Need in its entirety. Originally I began this back in 2002, forgot about it, rewrote a few parts, then forgot about it again. This rewrite is one of the better ones since it's been a while since I read the fanfic it was inspired from. I didn't want this fanfic to seem like it was copying the other one. No, there won't be a sequel. I think the story's pretty much complete as it is. You can find song information at http://goku-girl.livejournal.com/85414.html.
[completed: April 2, 2006]