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I fling the towel over my shoulder. Sauntering down the hallway naked always carries the risk of bumping into you. Your enraged expression fills me with more joy than you could imagine. You’re so proper. Demure. And I love to poke at your limits. Unfortunately, you must have had an early start, and I reach my room without any interruption.
Later I find you in the kitchen. We’re both fully dressed and bored out of our minds. I swirl the cold dregs of my morning tea around at the bottom of the cup, then gulp it down mechanically.
“What’s the point in sitting inside all day?” I ask.
“Patience,” you drawl.
I never get tired of your morning voice. It’s so deep and rich, it caresses my ears and soothes my soul. You don’t sleep as long or as often as I do, but when you wake, even you’re not immune to the laziness lingering on our vocal chords that we have to oil with speech.
“Why can’t we take a stroll at least?”
I don’t need your permission of course, but I don’t want to start the day off on the wrong foot. The pact we agreed to yesterday, that until the next battle comes we would at least take three days off work, doesn’t seem like a bright idea anymore.
“It does you good to learn self-discipline. Or perhaps I should say re-learn it. I cannot imagine myself to have been undisciplined, in any reality that exists outside of mine.”
“You mean ours,” I raise an eyebrow.
“I know what I said. You are a guest of this timeline, and have as much a claim on it as I do, but that does not make it your true home.”
I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t like the implications of it. To be reduced to a guest strikes a chord of insult in me, although I know it’s not your intention to hurt my feelings.
“Do you think we’re equal?” I hazard the question.
You take a moment, swirling your own cup. You put it down, leaving the dregs at the bottom.
“Yes.”
I scoff at your having to think it through. Maybe I’m just grumpy from the bursts of energy for which I don’t have an outlet. Or I’m truly as undisciplined as you say.
You scowl at my reaction, then your face smooths.
“We are equal in spirit,” you say softly, perhaps to placate my irritation. “You have traded your divine body for strength. I understand. An action born out of necessity, a desperate step to bring about our dream. You have my respect for that, but do understand the price you have paid for it.”
I know the price. I became mortal, in body at least, and no amount of strength will compensate for that.
“If we ever disagreed on something important, whose call would be the final one?” I try to sound casual, but deep inside I could burst from anticipation.
I lean back in my chair, studying your face. You’re not sure, I can tell. But I know you enough to see that I’m going to get an answer, whether I like it or not. And if you hesitate to give it in the name of peace, well, I will push your buttons until you do.
“We should not let our relationship sour to a point where we can not reach a consensus.”
“But suppose we can’t. Whose word would be final?”
“Let us not delve into hypotheticals. What good is it to argue before the subject of our argument has presented itself?”
“Maybe I want to be prepared, just in case.”
“Oh? In case of what, exactly?”
I put my hands behind my head and flash you a cocky grin.
“It’s best we agreed on who’s boss now, while things are… quiet. We don’t want to squabble on the battlefield.”
“I do not like how you are redefining our relationship. I thought we had agreed on how neither of us is, as you say, boss. We are a unit, working together in harmony. Is it not why you came to me in the first place? Am I not your soulmate, the only one in this universe who understands your feelings, your ambitions, your life goals?”
“I thought it was more than understanding,” I say, closing my eyes with a disapproving shake of my head. “Don’t you share them, too?”
“Yes, I… you know I meant it that way. Do you feel a need to be argumentative?”
“Until I get my answer.”
“I have been trying to explain that—”
“You’ve been avoiding being straight with me.”
You fall silent. I lower my voice to barely louder than a whisper.
“Who makes the final call?”
I can’t see it, but by the little gasps of air, I know that you’re opening and closing your mouth multiple times before you whisper back, “I do.”
“Good,” I say, and savor the baffled choking sounds that emanate from you.
You expected me to argue. You thought I would push you until you let me take charge. How little you know of Saiyan bodies, the wiring of their brains. One such brain is poisoning my proclivities, my very personality.
This body yearns for strength. It wants power for itself, to break through its limits, which aligns with my wishes and your understanding. But it wants strength in another way, too. It’s a dangerous secret that I need to tell you sooner or later, otherwise I’ll have to live with the regret of wasting precious time.
“I’d like you to come with me to the battlefield once our break is over,” I tell you like a wish in a dream. “Command me to attack or reign me in, I’ll leave it up to you.”
“Are we ready to announce my presence?”
Oh. I didn’t think that far. My newly aroused desires have blinded me to the roles we’d agreed to: I am to commit sins, you are to remain as pure as you can to pass divine judgment on all mortals. To reveal yourself would mean nearing the endgame, and I plan to keep the half-Saiyan brat in the dark as long as he can make me stronger.
“Forget it,” I say, disappointed.
“This will not do.”
You rise and head for the living room, waving me to follow.
We are lounging on the couch. You eye me suspiciously. My face burns both with shame and the pleasure of you causing that shame.
“What are you hiding now?” You ask, tired of the nuances my brain differs from yours.
I’m a perversion of what you once had been. You’re curious, because you want the gap of my knowledge of you and your puzzlement by me to close. But I am thankful that you don’t know what’s going on inside my head, and that you respect my private life. You could easily lift my secrets from my brain and read them, but you don’t. And I adore you for that.
“Do I have to coerce you to divulge the reason behind your unusual questions and requests?”
You touch your little finger to my forehead and glide it down, to the tip of my nose. It gives my body a shiver.
“Very intimidating,” I tease as you repeat the motion over and over again. “Perhaps you should interrogate the mortals before I finish them.
“As if we were interested in what they had to say.” You practically purr as you let out a low laugh. “Or would you like me to touch some of them like I do you now?”
I know you’re joking, but it’s too late. The idea makes me see red, and my body reacts with the intensity I can’t yet control. My hand shoots up and clamps around your wrist, stopping your soothing strokes.
“I’d tear off any part of you that willingly touched…”
“A mortal?” you ask nonchalantly, a logical guess given our shared values.
I want to say anybody else, but I settle for a “Yes.” I’m not ready to tell you the truth. Or rather, I don’t believe you’re ready to hear it.
“Release me,” you bark an order in a tone that makes me choke like you did minutes ago.
I do as you say. The fireworks it gives my depraved brain is a gulp of fresh water for a lost wanderer in a desert.
“Lie in my lap,” you command, and I do that, too, without questioning your intentions.
Your fingers seek out the sweetest spots on my skin. My forehead, the bridge of my nose, the soft flesh behind my ears. You caress my nape, diving under my shirt collar, and stroke the top of my chest through the cloth.
“Doesn’t this make you uncomfortable?” I ask weakly.
“I want you to relax. It is not your fault that this body has different needs than your original one.”
The irony of that body fulfilling some of my needs isn’t lost on me.
“Help me out if you can,” you say sweetly. “I have studied some of the recordings the Supreme Kai of Universe Seven, your Universe Seven, kept of Earth, of Son Goku, to be exact.”
I grunt at the mention of that name. If it wasn’t bad enough for me to resort to stealing his body, and to tolerate the inhabitants of this loathsome planet to name me after him, I now have to bear to hear it from your mouth. Your precious lips forming the syllables of my greatest achievement, my greatest shame.
“He regaled his friends with the most curious conversation he had. Apparently, Saiyans like strong-willed women. Could you, by any chance, confirm that information?”
I freeze. My body’s muscles tense up so hard they might as well be made of stone.
You dig into my hair and push it out of my face, ever so gently. I wish I knew what you were thinking. Are you angry? Disappointed? Disgusted?
“How should I know?” I say when my throat wakes up from the shock. “I haven’t even touched women save for the odd neck-breaking.”
“Well, that is reassuring. I think I, too, would want to tear off your hands if you did. For sullying them with mortal filth, of course. Which would be unfortunate given how yours do not grow back on their own.”
My body melts back into the shape of your lap.
“That soldier girl with the old soul,” you go on as if you haven’t noticed my disturbance, “the one who tags along with the brat. She seems like the persistent, stubborn type that might stoke the fire in the instincts of a Saiyan. I have been watching your battles and I was fearing she might seduce you from… our cause.”
I burst out laughing, making you jump.
“That miserable worm?” I say, dabbing the tears from the corners of my eyes.
“I have been worried,” you say, but a smile plays at the corners of your mouth. “I am happy you put my mind at ease.”
I reach up and stroke your hair. It happens without me thinking. You don’t seem to mind, but you aren’t overjoyed, either. Our bodies react differently to the same stimuli. I should have been more mindful of your aversion of being touched.
“Sorry,” I mumble, hoping I haven’t inconvenienced you too much.
You have been so caring of my needs. Going out of your comfort zone to make me feel at ease. And here I am, repaying your kindness with causing discomfort.
“I do not mind you being gentle,” you say, “but I would like it if you told me in advance what you were planning to do.”
“I will, I swear. It’s an honor you would even think of letting me touch your divine body.”
It’s your turn to stiffen. And now I remember. It’s as if it came from another dimension, the workings of my previous mind. Of course you’re embarrassed. I praised you. And praise used to have the same effect on me as you being strict with me does now.
“May this foolish mortal be allowed to plant a kiss on your holy, most beautiful, perfectly smooth, forever young face?”
You try to hide the shivers, the blushing, the thumping of your heart.
“No,” you say, and my stomach drops. “No fool of a mortal is allowed to do such a thing. But you are.”
I push myself up and lean in for the kiss. I check your eyes one last time, searching for any sign that I should not do it. I find none.
“Thank you for your grace, most divine lord,” I say with reverence before I press my lips against your soft cheek.
The moment seems to last for a lifetime and fly away in the blink of an eye at the same time. I taste my lips as I pull away. You’re exquisite. Beyond my wildest imagination. It drives me crazy that I have to stop now when all my instincts, old and new, are screaming at me to devour you.
But I won’t. If you let me go further, I will go further. If you say that’s as far as we’ll ever go, I will respect your boundaries and exercise restraint until the end of my life. I can’t allow a moment’s weakness to chase away the fragile soul that you are. My fairy tale butterfly, made of moonlight and magic and all the precious gems in the universes.
I wince at the memory of my behavior in the morning. No wonder you have made a habit of getting out of my way whenever I exited the bathroom. I awaited your cute outrage with a perverse delight mere hours earlier. Except, what’s been cute for me caused distress for you. I make a silent oath to be mindful of how you’re feeling, to reign in my barbaric side whenever I am around you.
“It was a good idea after all. This day. I’ve been getting out of control lately and I haven’t even noticed.”
“The day is not over yet,” you say, “and we have two more to fill with educational activities.”
“Educational?” I’m not sure I like the sound of that.
“Would you not like to praise more of my body parts?”
I choke on saliva and cough up a storm before I can stutter an agreement. Yes, yes I do, but more than that, I want us to bond more deeply. Perhaps, if I showed you how respectful I can be of your limits, you will see me in a better light. You might even come up to me again after I took a shower, put on fresh clothes, strictly in the bathroom, and give me a hug as you used to, making a compliment of how good I smelled.
“You have to learn patience, though,” you say, and I nod.
I won’t be allowed to go as far as I’d like, which is fine. And I will have to come up with more and more creative ways to express my reverence, which is a dream come true.
“I shall be a strong-willed teacher,” you say with a knowing look in your eyes.
My secret is out. You won’t say it explicitly, but I don’t mind. Your subtlety raises you in my eyes. You proper, demure deity, my soul-twin in an uncorrupted body.