It had been another long, boring day in another long, boring week. I stomped up the stairs of my porch and heaved a large sigh as I leaned against a wooden beam. Why did my life have to be boring? I just wanted to have an adventure. Was that too much to ask? By Kami, sometimes I just wanted to blow my brains out from sheer frustration!

I opened the door, walked in and then slammed it shut behind me. "Kaasan!" I roared, stalking into the kitchen. My mother stood there, not noticing the temper I was in. "What the hell are we having for dinner?"

"Absolutely nothing if you are going to use such language in my house, Bouke Enda." My mother answered.

"Well, fine! Fuck you!" I screamed and walked down the hall into my room. I slammed that door too, almost tearing it off its hinges. I threw my book bag onto my bed and sat in the corner, curled up with my knees touching my chin, thinking.

Why was I stronger then the other kids? I never tried to work out or anything but I just was strong. Abnormally strong. In P.E. the coach had made me lift weights. Again. It had been horrid. My schoolmates had looked on in horror as I easily lifted one hundred and fifty pounds without breaking into a sweat. There went my chance at being normal. Fluttering out the window like a half-dead scared bird.

I grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil from off my floor. Writing and drawing were the only way for me to let my emotions vent. I usually wrote about killing people. These people included my parents, my elder sister, the principal, my teachers and my schoolmates. I was sure I would get back at them one day.

I changed my position so I was cross-legged. I tapped the pencil against my lower lip and tried to think of what to write about. Inspiration hit my. "It had been another long, boring day in another long, boring week." I congratulated myself on such an awesome beginning sentence. The beginning sentence of a story was the key point of the story. It was where the reader's interest was captured or deflected.

I continued to write. It would be a story of a girl who had a horrid life and then got transported to the world of Dragonball Z. This would be before the Cell Saga and she would meet with Vegeta and they would fall madly in love and she would be the mother of Trunks. I had always disliked Bulma and her freaky hair and so in this story Trunks would have normal black hair.

After I was halfway through writing, my belly rumbled. I groaned and stood up, stretching. I had sat there for almost six hours and my neck hurt like hell. On top of that, I had five different assignments due by the next day. I smiled. Fuck my teachers. They were a bunch of weak, bitchy bakas anyway. Pathetic humans.

I blinked. Whoa… Where the fuck did that thought come from? I shrugged it off as watching too much DBZ and I walked out of my room to raid the kitchen. I walked in just as my parents were beginning one of their famous fights that could be heard around the neighborhood.

"When we decided to have children, you said you'd help me raise them!" My mother yelled.

"Oh yeah, bitch? Well, I'm the one who helps with their homework, not diddling around the kitchen like some airhead onna!" my father shouted back, his eyes bulging out and spittle flying from his lips. I slipped by them and got a tub of ice cream from the refrigerator. When my parents argued, I could do just about anything because they were so fixated on the argument.

"Why you fucking son-of-a-bitch! If it wasn't for me and my father's money, you'd've starved long ago!" I brought the tub of ice cream, a couple donuts and a liter of soda into my room, humming happily. My parents' fights didn't bother my anymore. A little surprising, since they almost always pertained to me. I put the food down on the floor and then closed my door.

I thought about the reason I had come home angry as I ate my donuts. Damn school councilor. Yeah, I'm just a normal eighteen-year-old with violent tendencies. Well, up yours asshole. I started eating my ice cream as I drew a picture of me beating the shit out of the school councilor and some other people that I hated. Muwhahahaha! Take that you bastard! And that! And this! Die motherfucker! And…

I was kicked out of my mad "killing" spree from a knock at the door. "Who the hell is it?" I snarled.

"Bouke?" the voice of my little brother floated through the closed and locked door. I cursed myself for swearing and stood up to open the door. There stood my eight-year-old little brother, in ruffled pajamas and clutching his teddy bear.

"Yes, gutei?" I said affectionately as my little brother walked into my room.

"Reishi? Can I sleep with you tonight?" Zaretu asked, his voice trembling. My heart almost broke. I knew that when their parents fought he got scared. My little brother was the one weak spot in the iron shell I had built around myself.

"Yes, yes. Of course, chibi." Zaretu squealed in delight and hopped onto my bed.

"Yeah! Yeah! Now we can stay up and play video games and eat candy and ice cream and drink pop!" I grinned and tossed my brother the control for the game system. Zaretu sat down and zoned out, staring at the screen in concentration as he played one of his Dragonball Z video games.

I turned back to the picture and found I had lost my interest in that. I took the picture and hid it under a pile of paper. I didn't want my brother finding it. It would poison his mind. I looked back at the game and saw him cheering as Vegeta appeared on the screen. I smiled. Little gutei was a great admirer of the Saiyan Prince and he would have killed to meet him.

Suddenly, a kind of odd glowing light filled the room. I stood up and stood directly over my brother. I had my fists at the ready. Something was happening; I could feel it in my belly. I had always trusted my intuition and I wasn't about to stop now.

I studied my room closely as the glow began to dissipate. That was when I noticed a familiar figure standing a few feet away from me. He looked just like… but that was impossible! "What the hell is happening?" I yelled.

The person turned around and my suspicions were confirmed. Vegeta, the Saiyan no Ouji himself, was standing in my bedroom with a look that could kill.


Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, though I wish I did. This disclaimer's covering the entire story, ok? Ok…

Well, it's my second DBZ fanfic. Please review telling me what you think and if you want me to continue! I'll prolly continue even if you don't tell me to but I still need feedback! Gah! There's something with me and the characters in my stories getting abducted to other worlds! And no, the plot for my story is not the plot for this one! I'm not that thick! Definitely not! And I don't hate Bulma. Her blue hair just scares me… And I do love Vegeta!

If you want translations for some of the Japanese words I'll use in this fanfic, go look on my profile and I have a link to a Japanese-English, and visa versa, dictionary. Very helpful. I got Bouke's and Zaretu's names from two Japanese words.

boukendan = tale of an adventure

zareuta = limerick; funny song; comic song