It always intrigued Bulma from the very first days of her shadowing her father in his lab, those early years where the littlest notions didn't get past the curious gaze of the little, cerulean-haired girl bound to become a follower in ' footsteps. The way it wavered in the slightest breeze of her motion to get closer to it, the emanating warmth that startled her when she would, and the chaotic danger it presented when it was riled by her threatening breath.
But what transfixed the child's inquisitive gaze was the presence of light blue within the amber embers swaying in front of her. It was a peculiar colour to be witnessed in the process of heat, and frankly she felt even more hypnotized by the dancing flame simply due to her growing vanity towards her birthrite of blue hair.
Bulma would often see herself in that flame whenever she revisited its essential but volatile nature. Whether in the kitchen or the lab, she would find herself being drawn to its tranquil presence and hovering a hand over it just to feel the thrill of its heat running through her. In the bathroom, she would conjure its majestic glaze in the form of a candle just to revel in its silent power when there was little to no light. That was when it was most comforting to her, its confident solace without any other light source to distract her from it or somehow deplete its presence.
When Bulma was a child, she loved playing with fire. Now, as an adult, nothing has changed.