Hi there everyone. If you are familiar with this story, then you'll probably know that its been a couple years since I've added anything new. Because of this, I've decided to go back to the very beginning and add little changes here and there before I add new chapters (which I will!). I believe that my writing has improved over time, so I want to make sure that my stories on FFN don't lag behind.
The main premise here is to fill in the gaps between Trunks arriving from the future and the 3 year time lapse in which Bulma somehow couples up with Vegeta. They're my absolute favourite DBZ couple... mostly because its hilarious thinking of the different ways in which they have come together. This story explores each character's own mind, i.e., Vegeta will explain a description with more hostility than... well... anyone.
Here you go! Reviews greatly appreciated. I'm so sorry I've kept you all waiting!
Bulma flinched, wincing at the numbing pain in her hand as she threw it against the control panel in her lab. That goddamned self-centred Saiyan sure had some nerve screaming at her like that.
"I was only trying to help," she mumbled to herself through short gasps.
The haze on the screen remained in the shape of his arrogant face, though the power had been cut off. She burst into thought whilst staring at the negative she burst into thought. His strong physique did not deserve to be constrained by bloody bandages, and yet he injured himself more with each passing day and refused help at every turn. How was it possible for that arrogant man to know so much about fighting, yet so little about his own limits? He had long since breached them, and now he was at breaking point. He could not ascend into a Super Saiyan… he just couldn't…
He'll kill himself first.
She shuddered at the thought; he was such a fool. She remained still for the next few moments until, recollecting her thoughts, she felt a tear roll down her face. Bulma looked down to see blood lightly covering the control panel in a sickly red, suddenly realising that she had cut her hand when she hit it against the hard metal surface. Muttering to herself, she reluctantly rose from her chair and headed towards the first-aid kit. With a bandage in place, she mopped up the spilled blood and looked over the board to check she hadn't damaged anything other than just her hand. Of course, Capsule Corporation projects were built to last and even the strongest kick from Bulma's steel cap boots wouldn't inflict so much as a scratch on the equipment. At least, they were made to withstand human interaction. Saiyans, on the other hand…
"Damned jerk!" That unfortunate train of thought managed to bring him back into mind again. Ever since the explosion that Vegeta caused a few days prior, Bulma had to work very hard to keep her mind straight; somehow he managed to set afoot many different emotions within her all at the same time: anger, annoyance, sympathy…
But he didn't seem to care the slightest about how she felt. He was always such a prick, Mr. "Prince Of All Saiyans". He could do anything.
So he thinks…
When Bulma looked into his eyes, she could see straight through the coldness… she saw his mortality.
Vegeta had been working out in the capsule ship that Dr. Briefs had made for Goku's friends to travel on to Namek. Instead of stowing it away once they learned that everyone was safe, the fool left it out on the yard for Vegeta to claim. It had been quite a while since he had heard from Kakarot, until that strange purple-haired boy came claiming his crazy predictions of the future. And then he appeared. Vegeta could scarcely imagine how Kakarot could survive intergalactic travel at such a weakened state, but then again, he was a Saiyan.
A third-class Saiyan… you can hardly even compare him to me.
Nonetheless, with Kakarot back and the youth's nonsense about androids 'foretold' to appear in three years, Vegeta felt claustrophobic. There was only enough room on this planet for one true Saiyan, and Kakarot had not right to claim that title, despite his ascension to Super Saiyan. If a low level warrior could do it… so could he. He was, after all, the rightful successor to the Saiyan throne – the Prince Of All Saiyans.
Regardless of what truths might actually exist in all of this nonsense, Vegeta had a reason to work even harder than ever before. Since his arrival from Namek he spent his spare time training to ascend, slowly gaining power as each day progressed, but now the sudden reappearance of his arch foe had him admittedly flustered; his ego was being challenged. Vegeta thought not of any future robots; there was nothing that a tin can could do that was superior to him. This was all about Kakarot, and his attack on Vegeta's pride.
The woman had turned on her screen inside the ship, which in turn threw him off guard. Vegeta gave into the massive gravitational pull exerted upon him, which pulled him down into the floor at a rocketing speed. He groaned as the cracked tiles dug into his strained body. This only made him look weak to the woman; he resented the face she pulled. He did not need anyone's pity.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed, as the energy he emitted caused the screen to short-circuit. She was always watching him these days and it infuriated him. He lost focus just once, summoning more energy than he should have and completely obliterating part of the large fish pond in the grounds. Heck, he thought it was funny that he somehow managed to get a firey explosion out of a watery cesspool, but she... she was worried.
Vegeta's only regret was that those pathetic humans fished him out of the mess of marble and mud to confine him to a bed for some days. They had no right to do so, and it damaged the progress he was making on his training. If only they had the brains to create a healing device similar to that which was on Freiza's ship, then he could be back to one hundred percent and would feel the benefits of increased power coursing through his veins. Instead he was forced to put up with these useless humans babbling on about long periods of recovery, and once he was back on his feet it took two full days to get back into top form.
This species was truly weak, mostly because of their inane ability to become so fundamentally clouded by emotions. However, these foolish emotions did tie them to him in a sort of way that granted him easy access to the provision of food and clean garments. Sure it was fun to cause destruction and chaos, but it was simply easier to play along with their silly games, and it reminded him of back when he had his own servants on his home planet. So he played along... with minimal loss of life, but only because the humans worked much slower when they grieved. Especially that blue-haired loudmouth. What a shame she was so necessary for maintaining his training grounds. All he had to do was let go of his energy... just for a second... and then the noise would stop.
Vegeta tried to continue his training, but after a few minutes his stomach growled and his mind flickered back to the thought of food. He decided he could spare himself some time from training to regain nourishment. After all, once he had eaten his fill he would simply go back and work even harder.
He stepped out of the pod once the stairs had lowered to the ground. The light was harsh on his eyes; he had entered before the rise of the sun and had grown accustomed the dim red lights in the ship after so many hours already that day. The wind was cool against his chest, sending a chill along his back. Truly, this planet was despicable. How could any sentient life form actually wish to exist here? It was truly an enigma.
Walking into the mansion, he found himself a seat at the end of a large table by the kitchen, and waited. It seemed no one was around. Although he was pleased that he would not have to endure any codswallop from the women who inhabited this establishment, Vegeta was hungry and their presence was a necessary evil for his satiation. Growing impatient, Vegeta slumped from his perfect posture and rested his chin in his hand. After a minute had passed, he bellowed.
So he calls…
Bulma thought to herself sarcastically. That damned Saiyan and his arrogance. Who did he think she was, a servant? This was her house he was staying in… as a guest. Probably the most ornery guest she had ever come across, and she had met a few doozies in her time! Still, she thought it would be best to check out what he was up to, and what was making him so loud.
Not even a half hour had passed since he had verbally lashed out at her, demanding she 'leave him alone', when now he was calling her. Bulma smirked to herself as she thought this… he really couldn't keep away. So much for being able to take care of himself.
He needs me after all.
Bulma stepped into the kitchen, where she found the proud prince drumming his fingers on the table impatiently.
"Finally. What took you so long?" spat Vegeta, his eyes focused on the grains of wood on the tabletop.
"I was in the lab," came her reply.
"Not good enough. I have been waiting here a whole six minutes. Do you have any idea that you kept me sitting here this long?"
"I thought you wanted me to 'leave you alone'," Bulma snapped, emphasising the words that he had used. She put her hands on her hips and shot him a glare.
"Yes well now you are going to make me lunch, woman. I'm famished, and only the best of cuisine will satisfy me," Vegeta avoided her look and pointed at the kitchen, "so get to it. You have kept me long enough!"
Bulma made an exasperated groan, throwing her arms in the air. "You are so insufferable! You called me all the way up here just to make you a sandwich? Do it yourself!" She turned to head back for the lab.
"You will make me food, woman. And not just some sandwich… I need nourishment so that I can keep up with my heavy training routine," Vegeta intervened in a low voice.
Bulma stopped and thought about how hard he had been working. Vegeta had been in that ship training at every opportunity, stopping only to eat and sleep. It was a wonder to her how he managed to smell so good despite the sweat he was working up every day. She turned around to face Vegeta again, noticing scratches that had formed down his chest. His burly body was covered in bandages that hugged his form, but most were at least partially ripped, showing the damage that he had been inflicting upon himself from his endless hours training. Feeling a wave of sympathy for how he must have felt, she was about to give in, until her mother entered through the hallway.
"Mom, would you make Vegeta something to eat?" she said softly, all of the anger having drained from her mind.
"Oh sure dear, but why don't you cook for him yourself?" replied Bunny, "A good woman knows how to cook for her man, dear," she said with a sweet smile.
"MOM!" exclaimed Bulma, "He is not my man!" Her hands forming fists as she yelled at the very thought of Vegeta being on the receiving-end of her love.
"Oh dear! I'm sorry!" giggled Bunny, "I forgot that you and that boy Yamcha are back together. My, he should be careful, if you were so lucky to have this man's affection," pointing at Vegeta, which made him sit back uncomfortably, "he is just so strong and handsome!"
Bunny walked up to Bulma and winked so only she could see, giggling again. As Bulma raised her arms again, her mother noticed the bandage around her hand.
"Oh dear, what happened here?" she asked softly.
"Nothing mom, just had a disagreement with the control panel set up in the lab," Bulma tried to shrug it off, hoping Vegeta wouldn't notice the infliction that he had indirectly caused. She pulled her hand away, as her mother made a comment about this being why she couldn't cook for 'her man'.
"I'm going back to the lab," Bulma announced, and she left, knowing that Vegeta would receive the feast he so desired.
Vegeta was coming to the end of an intense training session, fuelled by the meal that Bunny had prepared for him. After many hours of creating energy blasts and strengthening his body under the weight of 400g, he was beginning to feel fatigue overcoming him. As he lowered himself to the floor of the ship, he switched off the gravity machine and took a seat on a step by a window. His bandages were clinging to his body from the sweat he was producing. They were bothering him, so he ripped one off.
The pain was stronger than he had anticipated, and he winced as a trickle of blood came from the wound the cloth was covering. It seemed that these were not only here for the purpose of restricting his movement as some sort of devious ploy by the woman... they seemed to be actually keeping him together. Vegeta slowly peeled away two more bandages only to come to the same conclusion: blood was seeping out from the wounds that were caused a week before in the mighty explosion. He thought that he had fully recovered, and wore these bandages grudgingly to stop bickering from the woman. It seemed that he was working a little too strenuously. Perhaps he would allow himself another hour of sleep this evening.
Vegeta stood up and let himself out of the pod, walking towards his allocated room within the confines of the property. He struggled to keep his posture correct, almost limping on his left leg as he made his way into the mansion and his room. Entering the en-suite bathroom, he threw the bandages onto the floor, and stepped into the shower.
The searing water flowed over his body and he hissed as it came into contact with the many cuts and scratches he had accumulated. He used the hot water to deter his thoughts, and eventually managed to stop the bleeding with scalding heat. Hopefully this would not happen again; he was not so weak that his body would break out in gashes and weep his pure blood onto this filthy rock. He could not let anyone witness this, especially not that woman. She had caused enough trouble for him when she found him injured the first time. If she were to discover this now, she would never leave him alone. He did not require the pity of a pathetic emotion-filled human, or anyone else for that matter.
Drying himself off, Vegeta put on a pair of silk shorts that the humans provided him with, and stepped into bed. He had still not quite gotten used to human beds; they were overly soft and some contained springs to support his body. It was nothing like the cold hard beds they used on Vegeta-sei. They helped to train the warrior's mind as he slept, as they were uncomfortable and forced the need for endurance to overcome this burden. These human beds were luxurious; Vegeta had not experienced this comfort until he came to Earth. This was just another one of its weaknesses.
Humans are so fragile.
Vegeta thought to himself. This bed was dangerous, as it caused him to lull into a comfort that he should not have. He was a fighter, the Prince of a warrior race. He needed to keep on his toes, not wallow in emotion. He stepped out of the bed as he had every night before and slept on the floor, without pillows or blankets. At least this time he didn't have to keep an eye open for people checking up on him and forcing him back into the bed.
End Chapter 1