REUPLOAD WITH SOME EDITS :D
Ijust felt like using Japanese names. Every Japanese word you will see will be in a mini-glossary at the end of the story. It is an AU, which I have been trying to get out of my system for like, two weeks. It's been driving me nuts. It's probably full of errors, which I will fix later when it's not burning a hole in my brain to be published, and I have free time.
This story, as you can see, is long. 17K words. If you can make it to the end, you are an elite.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Song Prompt: Ironically, Bleach OST songs.
PART 1. Hurt.
Now that he was inside, he was free to lean against the wall for support. His blood added a fresh coat of paint across what used to be a surface colored with soft grey, the red smearing across it and dripping in delicate but defined drops on the floor.
"Onna!" he yelled. The action itself was painful, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he winced. He clenched his left fist and braced his arms against the wall again, his right covering a wound in his side. The wound stained the fur on his tail red as the blood caked the fine, soft hairs. His white gloves were stained red also…it was a sight that he hated. He hated having his hands dirty. And with his own blood…
"Onna!" he screamed. He coughed and choked, blood falling in thick drops from his mouth. He sank to his knees, his hand smearing an ugly red stain on the walls. Dark spots flashed in front of his eyes, and he thought he heard running footsteps until he crashed face first into the floor.
He watched from the back of the audience, because he didn't mind sitting in a tree while he watched, and he could see clearly anyway. He scanned over them all carefully as they were brought in and introduced, and he'd yet to find one he liked.
"This one's a real beauty, folks!" the announcer called. "Mesu Jishi, from Leo-sei. 148 pounds, 6 feet –"
"Too tall," Bejita muttered irritably at the woman on the platform, who wore a thick chain around her neck and wrists. "Too many claws, anyway."
"And how about this one!" The announcer carried on, having sold the woman from Leo-sei. "An exotic aquatic beauty from Aquarius-sei, known for being a hard worker in multiple places." The last part was said slyly, and the men in the audience snickered and laughed. Bejita sneered and wrinkled his nose.
"Too fishy," he grumbled. "I don't need one of those anyway."
"Oh, this one's high priced, but she's worth it!" the announcer cried. "From Chikyuu, Buruma. 124 pounds, curves and all –" men laughed, "- exotic coloring, good cook, and sharp witted! You'll have fun with this one, boys!"
There were a lot of hoots that went around, and Bejita looked up. On the platform, a young woman stood, probably his age. She had turquoise hair and matching eyes, which were narrowed and set in a fierce glare. He saw her tensing, and if he looked closely, he'd see her discreetly flipping the bird towards the announcer. His lips twitched, and his tail curled in amusement.
"500 credits!" one man yelled.
"Nope! Starting at 1000!" the announcer yelled back.
Bejita smirked as the numbers went higher. With each call, the female turned to the speaker and glared at them with such hate-filled eyes that it was almost frightening (not to him, of course). She looked as though she wanted to tear their eyes out with her nails, cut off their tongues and their limbs to feed to the beast, and give their innards to the birds. She must have come from a high position before her capture, Bejita thought. Yes, you could see it in her posture, in the way she was clearly devising a clever plan to slaughter them all; she was smart and of high rank, and yet, she'd be reduced to a slave. Just like –
"3000," Bejita called.
Everyone looked at him, and no one dared bid higher.
He had collected his slave and her few belongings (a few sets of clothes, a hairbrush, soap) and brought her back to his pod. She looked at him skeptically, wondering how they would both fit inside the cramped little ship. He just scowled at her and dragged her inside, sitting as close to the wall as he possibly could. Even so, she was halfway sitting on his lap, her skinny body tensed and stiff at the contact with his leg. He wasn't comfortable either, especially not when she was so close to his tail, and the appendage tightened around his waist.
He was glad when the hibernation gas valves opened.
When he finally returned to Furiza's ship, he was met with many stares. The female – Buruma, was that her name? Did he care? – met them each with unwavering confidence. He would smirk, or laugh maybe, except for the fact that soldiers on this ship rather liked feisty women because of their rarity, and he'd rather not have low levels (or elites, for that matter) raping the slave he'd bought with his hard-earned money. The already long walk seemed twice as annoying, though he didn't know whether that was from the stares, or because he had a woman on a chain with him.
She had been deathly silent the entire time, though he could feel her gaze burning into the back of his neck. He was silent as well, giving the same hateful look to any passerby soldier who stared too long (which was nearly everyone). He was almost relieved when they made it to his quarters, upon which he took her to his room and unlocked the cuffs from her neck and wrists.
"Stay here until I say," Bejita ordered firmly. He turned on his heel to leave after dumping her one bag on the floor.
"I hope you're not a pervert," she muttered softly, rubbing her sore wrists.
He stopped and whirled angrily. "What did you say, Sabanto?!" he snarled. His tail lashed about in fury, a sign she would soon learn to recognize as the beginning of a temper fit.
She looked up and said louder, "I hope you're not some kind of pervert. I'll kill myself before I become anyone's whore."
"As if I need them!" he snapped angrily. "I can have any woman I wish. You are here to cook and clean for me, nothing more. Mind your place."
"Have you got a name?"
He blinked at the sudden change of topic. "What?"
"Have you got a name, or what? What am I supposed to call you, 'master'?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
In a flash, he had grabbed her wrist and pinned her against the wall with such ease that it sent chills down her spine. "You will refer to me as Bejita no Ouji, or Ouji-sama, wench. And I'll have none of that tone from you. You are my property and you will do as I say."
She looked at him with an unwavering gaze, her blue eyes never once showing any sign of fear. "Yes, Ouji-sama."
" – jita…Bejita Ouji…Bejita-sama…wake up…"
He opened his eyes, blinking slowly. Then he growled and sat up abruptly, backhanding the speaker across the face. A shocked cry of pain rang out, and Bejita scowled.
"Baka onna!" he hissed furiously, then he winced and held his side. His torso was bare and wrapped in gauze, as was his left hand, and the calve of his right leg was bandaged, the spandex cut away. Even his tail had a strip of gauze near the tip of it, and it ached as it flicked back and forth angrily.
A soft sniffle came from the young woman on the floor. Her face was partially hidden by her bangs, and partially by the hand that was wiping away tears. "Y-you'll tear your stitches, Bejita Ouji-sama," she said, her voice wavering.
He snarled at her. "They wouldn't rip if you'd sewn them correctly!"
Blue, tear-filled eyes rose up to meet his dark ones bravely, before lowering back down. "Stitches are delicate, Ouji-sama, no matter how well they are sewn. You have to be careful, is all."
A low growl ripped from his throat, and he leaned forward with his fist raised. "Did you just talk back to me, woman?" he demanded in a dangerous tone.
Her name was Buruma. She was an Chikyuu-jin, a weak race that had miraculously stayed untouched. This particular female, however, along with about a hundred other humans, had been captured while traveling on a rather large ship to an empty planet outside their solar system. Over half of them had been males, and were either killed after leading failing rebellions or sent to work in whatever military or construction zone would take them. Those who were handsomest were taken to taverns to entertain female soldiers. The human women, however, were all sent to taverns, or sold as slaves, like Buruma. Bejita had picked her personally.
She was pale, with big, blue eyes and matching hair. She had been bathed and groomed to perfection to attract buyers, and the price for her was high. He had been willing to pay it, however, if only because she had been glaring at whoever yelled out the next highest bid, as though she was imagining tearing out their insides and making their owners eat them. He liked that about her. (It had nothing to do with her beauty, of course.)
But he did not, under any circumstances, tolerate back-talkers. He had nearly broken her of the habit after a while. Even so, she would still say little quirky things, in a tone that made it seem as though she was merely informing him of something rather than proving him wrong. He knew better, though. He wasn't stupid…and neither was she. No matter how her tone sounded, he knew to judge by her words.
But every so often, he would catch her glaring, and it amused him. Sometimes.
He watched her with suspicious, narrowed eyes as she climbed to her feet, rubbing the side of her face with dainty fingers. She looked at him with those accusing blue eyes again, and he glared right back at her.
She said, "Your stitches, Ouji-sama."
He looked down at the hand that was covering his wound, and noticed that blood had begun to seep through the bandages thanks to him sitting up so swiftly. He yanked his hand away as though he'd burned himself, his dark eyebrows knitting together. "My gloves," he demanded, almost urgently.
She nodded briskly and ran to fetch them.
It seemed like a while before she returned, and when she did, he immediately noted that she was holding his gloves slightly behind her back. No…those weren't his gloves. The material was far too fuzzy. He frowned heatedly, wondering what the wench was planning, and why she didn't have his gloves like he'd ordered.
Buruma silently reached for his hand, at which he snarled and yanked it away with a small wince. She simply reached for him again patiently, as though nothing had happened, her empty expression unchanging. Her touch was gentle, and when she finally got a hold of his wrist, she held up a small, damp towel and cleaned the blood from his fingers.
Bejita watched her with suspicious eyes.
PART 2. Cooking.
Buruma was a good chef. She knew it too. Cooking was science, after all. Ask anybody.
So, that's why it was driving her nuts that she had been with Bejita no Ouji for a little more than a month, and she still hadn't found his favorite food yet. Every single thing she cooked, he had something to say about it. These noodles are too mushy, he says. This rice is sticky. This meat is too burnt, or not cooked enough. He needs either completely raw (ick) or well-done, not burned or somewhere in between. And for God's sake, onna, don't you know how to season?
It was driving her crazy.
In truth, Buruma was just about ready to slaughter the Prince. Well, she'd been ready to slaughter him for a while, but that was beyond the point. Buruma knew she was a good cook, so what was this guy's problem?
Well…Buruma was never one to let somebody's opinion defeat her. If she was going to cook for this bastard, well then, he'd eat it and he'd like it!
Buruma wiped the sweat from her forehead and blew out air through partially closed lips. Her shirt and pants (which were made of a spandex type of material like that of the Saiyajin no Ouji, only much looser so it sort of hung off her small frame) were covered by a big, over shadowing white apron, which reminded her of a lab apron more than a kitchen apron. She'd been cooking for hours, tasting a small sample of everything before she deemed it worthy enough to put on a plate. If it wasn't worthy, then she would set it aside and save it for her own dinner, wrapped in tinfoil and slowly losing heat. If it was worthy, they she would set it off to a different side, and when she was finished cooking it all, she would reheat whatever had fallen cold in the oven.
Things didn't go back into the oven unless they made her taste buds sing.
Now that she was fully satisfied with her work, she began to set it all out on plates, lining them up in a sequence that went something like meat, noodles, fish, vegetables, meat, noodles, fish, vegetables…
She was setting out the 5th to the last plate when the door opened, and Bejita came in as pissed as usual. She took his armor when he trust it at her and stormed upstairs to wash up, and she wrinkled her nose at the bloody breastplate. If he wasn't bloody from purging, then he'd definitely be bloody from training.
He would never admit it, but she could tell. Some of his wounds were just too severe, too thorough, for Nappa or Radittsu to inflict them. He was too strong for them to hope for such a victory. Buruma wasn't stupid.
When he came back downstairs, he looked at the food that had been set out and licked his lips. He seemed pleased, perhaps because she had taken extra care to make sure the food looked pretty, or perhaps because he hadn't had to tell her to hurry up today. He sat down in his usual spot at the table – there was not a regular kitchen table, like the one she had eaten off of at home, but instead a very short one, at which you would sit on a cushion – and reached for the closest plate in front of him, which was a meat dish full of cut, breaded pork seasoned with a thick, creamy curry, and some finely roasted cauliflower-like vegetable, all waiting to be eating with chopsticks.
He had never eaten with chopsticks before her arrival, but had come to enjoy using them and began to have them ordered especially for him (you could buy anything on black market planets, Buruma discovered, especially when you have both money and the power to kill every living being within a 5000 kilometer radius without trying).
Buruma studied her 'master' as he sat, wondering what it was about this man that brought out her competitive side so fiercely. He was shorter than most of the guys she knew back on Chikyuu, probably only an inch or so taller than her, though his upswept, coal black hair made a much larger difference. He was heavily tanned, and his body laden with muscle (which his fitting spandex suit made no attempt to hide), and his tail was always either curled tightly around his slim waist or flicking agitatedly. He always had a scowl on his face, which seemed to harshen his sharp features, and a glare from his onyx eyes was enough to make grown men wet their pants. The man was downright scary, ungrateful, arrogant, foul mouthed and vicious with his words, and carried an intelligent air about him that seemed far too calculating for a mere soldier.
Bejita picked up his chopsticks and picked up a piece of pork, making sure to swirl it around in the curry once before he brought it to his mouth. He chewed for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly, and he stared at her for a moment before looking at his plate again. He swallowed, and silently (swiftly) reached for another piece.
When he was finished with a plate, Buruma carried it to the sink and washed it clean, and by time she was done with one, there would be two more waiting. When he had eaten everything at the table, he leaned back a bit and stretched his arms over his head, a satisfied purring sound coming from his throat.
Buruma glanced at him, and without turning away from the dish that was currently in her hand, she asked, "Ouji-sama, if I might be bold enough to ask, was there any problem with tonight's meal?" Go ahead, you bastard, say something about that fabulous cooking. I dare you.
He looked at her rather lazily, and after making a show of licking his teeth, he said, "It was terrible."
Buruma whirled, a furious expression on her face, but just as she opened her mouth to blurt something that would probably get her killed, she noticed that Bejita was watching her with an amused look on his face. She stopped and closed her mouth, and after biting back a teasing remark, she said, "Of course, Ouji-sama. I'll do better next time."
"Hn," he grunted. As soon as he had disappeared into the bathroom for a shower, Buruma let out a yell of victory.
PART 3. Dirty work.
He walked in. Very casually, mind you, though that seemed to make it even more shocking.
Buruma jumped up from her position on his bed, where she'd been reading (he only had one book in his room, and she'd already finished it twice before), quickly straightened the covers and ran to greet him.
"Ouji-sama!" she said, panting a little from her scare. "You're home."
Bejita sneered at her. "Baka onna. This place hardly qualifies as my home."
She was silent for a moment, looking him over. He was covered in blood, as though someone had taken a giant paintbrush and flicked it on him or slapped his armor with it. His right cheek was painted with it was well; there was a thin line of it across the bridge of his nose, and a single drop underneath his left eye. It was caked in his hair and his fur, turning the thick black locks on his head and fine brown hairs of his tail a messy, crimson red, and a little bit of it had even crawled across his bottom lip.
Buruma deducted that he had killed someone to his right without checking to see who it was.
It was quiet for a moment, before she finally asked, "Are you injured?"
He grunted. "No."
There were a few burns on his armor, and the deep blue spandex of his uniform had minor cuts over it. One on his bicep had gone deep (any cut that could pierce through Saiyajin skin was deep, in Buruma's opinion), and there was a small trickle of dried blood stuck to the sleeve. It must have been a bloody battle, because otherwise the blood would have slid right off the slick material, and yet his white gloves were stained red.
Buruma blurted, "Bejita-sama, why don't you like blood on your hands?"
His eyes narrowed, and his tail uncurls from his waist to swing casually (dangerously) at his side.
She gulped under his harsh gaze. "It's just…Nappa-san and Radittsu-san don't seem to mind," she elaborated.
"Hmph," he clucked his tongue. "I'll not soil my hands with Furiza's dirty work. I am a Prince."
"Oh," Buruma said softly, not expecting the answer. She had long known that he didn't like blood on his hands. She knew that he had lied to her smoothly, fluidly, as if it were a second language to him. She knew he didn't like blood on his hands. It was the man's one phobia…or perhaps, not a phobia, but rather just a meaningless mental quirk, one that triggered the worsts of his tempers, one that could make his skin crawl.
"I hope you've prepared my food, and not laid around while I was gone," his deep, rumbling voice interrupted her train of thought.
She cleared her throat. "Um, no, Ouji-sama. I didn't prepare your dinner yet. I thought you were supposed to be gone for another week."
"Hmph," he said again. "Well, don't just sit there idle. Cook."
She nodded and ran to the kitchen, but came back hardly a second later with a damp towel. He eyed it suspiciously, as though she had poisoned it, or as if he thought it were covered in skin peeling chemicals. Finally, he held his fingers up to his mouth, caught the tip of his glove's middle finger in between his teeth, and pulled it off. He removed the other one in the same manner, handed them both to her before he took the towel and wiped it across his face.
Buruma wondered why he didn't like blood on his hands but didn't mind it in his mouth.
Bejita had showered. Eaten. Trained. Showered again. Slept.
He was sleeping now, but Buruma was wide awake, kept up by her busy mind. She sighed and tossed the last of her dinner into her mouth. She stood, walking over to wash her dishes in the sink, when suddenly the hair on the back of her neck bristled.
"Stay out of my bed," Bejita whispered against her neck. She blinked and gasped, but he had already gone, leaving a small gust of air behind him.
The plate shattered at her feet.
PART 4. Boredom.
Buruma was a busy person.
A slightly lazy person, mind you, but still a busy person.
Being Bejita's slave (Kami, how she hated that word) had shaken her of most of her laziness. She often scoffs to herself at this thought; my, how her mother would be proud. Buruma was never one to do housework, not when all she had to do was send a cleaning bot to do it for her. She had been a hard worker in the field of science, and when she felt like it, in cooking (if you asked, she would tell you that cooking is nothing but edible chemistry), but it had taken her a while to get used to cleaning.
Bejita's quarters were not that large. It had a small kitchen, a small dining area, a bathroom, and his bedroom. That was pretty much all. It was smaller than an average West City apartment, so it wasn't that much to clean anyway. Bejita wasn't a horrible slob; in fact, Buruma could swear he was OCD. Other than washing clothes, dishes, and sweeping, there wasn't much to be done. That wasn't to say she liked it (she hated sweeping, especially since there was no outdoors to dump the dust in, so she had to empty it down the sink drain), but, all things considered, she could have been stuck with someone like Radittsu. Radittsu, she was sure, was one of those men that picked up their shirts off the floor and determined their cleanliness by smelling them.
So, because she didn't have that much to do, as Bejita was out more often than not, Buruma had gotten easily bored. Once, after hearing her complain (not in Bejita's presence, of course), Radittsu bought her a book when he came home – no, when he came back to the ship, for this was not a home of any sorts – and gave it to her as a present of sorts.
She had stared at him wide eyed, and finally said, "Arigatou, Radittsu-san."
He just kind of grinned at her, and Buruma was reminded of Son-kun.
Buruma liked Radittsu. He was a stereotypical male when it came to personality – cocky, teasing, slightly perverted, the whole package. He had long, spikey black hair that went down to his knees, a giant stature (just one of his legs was probably bigger than Buruma's whole body), and his tail was about as thick as her arm. Radittsu was kind of what Buruma would consider a punk, but sometimes he was kind of funny, and when he was actually laughing and not mocking, he reminded her of Goku.
But anyway, Buruma had now read Radittsu's book (she always referred to it as Radittsu's book, and rarely by the title) 7 times now, and she'd read Bejita's book (same principle) at least 12. She had been with them for almost a year now, give or take, and a girl can only read two books so many times before she once again becomes bored out of her mind.
Buruma wanted to build something.
PART 5. Sleep.
Her planet is being purged. That's the only reason she can come up with, why her sky is burning and why buildings are falling and why people are screaming. The sky is supposed to be blue but it is red and the ground is supposed to be whole but it is broken and people are supposed to be talking and shit, they are screaming…
She runs, she runs she runs because she has to get away! and she's not fast enough and why isn't she moving?! She's running but she isn't getting anywhere and if she doesn't get moving they'll get her.
She screams for Goku! and she screams for Yamucha! and she screams for Tien! and Chiaotzu! and even Master Roshi! She screams for Chichi! and little baby Gohan! and she screams for her Mom! and her Dad! but she can't find them and maybe they are dead.
She runs. She's not moving. She's running but the sidewalk is moving and it's sinking and it's melting and if she gets sucked in it will kill her so she turns and she jumps and it hurts because she lands on pavement and the pavement is
She hears deep laughter, like a monster's, and she looks up and she sees white, 3 toed feet and a pink tail and it's enormous whatever it is and she thinks that this must be Furiza. She hasn't seen Furiza before but someone has told her stories, somebody important, and she wonders if the story teller had time to train then maybe they would kill the monster and save her planet but they can't because Furiza is enormous and her planet is burning and they don't have time.
Buruma screamed and sat up, grabbing the closest thing to her, something that was hanging off the side of the bed near her face. She felt muscle underneath her hands, skin underneath her nails, and she gripped it tightly because it was the only thing that felt familiar to her now. The only thing that felt safe.
Unfortunately, that thing was not safe. It was dangerous, and horribly so.
Bejita shot up from his bed like a bullet, nearly trampling her on her small, low cot that lay beside him. His already wild hair looked more disheveled than usual, and the cool, calculated look that always resided on his face was gone, replaced by the crazed, blood-lusting eyes of an animal. His tail was stiff, nearly stick-straight, which reminded Buruma of a defensive feline. A snarl ripped from his throat; what was that pain in his arm? He took one look at the little female, saw her clutching on to him for dear life, and decided that she was the enemy.
Before she could blink, his hand had clamped over her throat, and he had her pressed against the wall. Buruma screamed, and Bejita bared his teeth at her, a deep, animalistic growl rising in his throat. His face close enough that he could take in her scent, so close that she could feel his breath on her face and see the gleam of his sharp teeth even in the dark. He drew back his hand, as though he was going to punch her with all his might, as though he was going to kill her –
"BEJITA!" Buruma screamed.
He froze, his expression unchanging, then he blinked, his tail now swinging loosely, almost curiously. He dropped her unceremoniously on the ground and stared at her darkly for a moment, listening to her gasps for air and her quiet sobs. He made a 'tch' sound and spun on his heel, climbing back into bed and burying his face into his pillow as though nothing had happened. Buruma bit her lip and held back her tears, knowing he'd be angry if she kept on.
"Baka onna," Bejita murmured in his sleep.
PART 6. Jisu.
It had taken her a while, but she'd finally gotten it. Buruma Briefs wasn't called a genius for nothing. Show her wires and she'll connect them. Show her bolts and she'll ask for a wrench. Show her a lock with a passcode…
Well, she'd crack it.
Buruma hid behind the wall as the door slid open with a rather futuristic hiss, her eyes darting around to check if anyone was there. The hallways were silence in all their dull, grey glory, which seemed bright compared to the dark walls of Bejita's room. She wondered briefly if his quarters were so prison-looking because he wished it so or because he wasn't allowed to paint it otherwise.
But no matter. She wasn't living there anymore.
Well, she wouldn't be, as soon as she worked up the nerve to leave the damned place.
Swallowing her fear, she stepped out of Bejita's quarters. Her flat shoes made soft pats against the metal floors, which she could have avoided by tip-toeing, but she didn't have time for that. She broke into a choppy run, like some form of weird, uncoordinated skipping, trying to keep her feet from stomping against the ground. She looked silly, but it was going to get her out of here.
She raced down the hallways, looking for anything that might indicate a launch pad like the one they'd landed on when they first got here. Whenever she saw soldiers, she abruptly changed direction, and since her Ki was basically nonexistent, she was able to escape them each time.
But now she had a problem. Now she was lost, and she didn't know where the launch pad was, and she didn't know where Bejita's room was. In essence, she was screwed.
"Well, who are you?"
Well, now she was literally screwed.
She turned and came face to face with a tall alien. Bejita would probably reach his shoulder, not counting his upswept hair, and Buruma suddenly felt towered. The man's skin was crimson red, the color of blood, and his hair was pristine white. He spoke in what sounded like an Australian accent to her, and he had a cocky grin on his face.
"Name's Jisu," he said cheerfully, as though he was looking forward to being her best friend. "Who might you be, love?"
She swallowed, and her already milky complexion paled dramatically.
"Well? Come on now, don't be shy."
She swallowed again and said, "I'm Bejita's."
His silver eyebrow raised almost comically high, and he looked like he wanted to laugh. "So, you belong to the monkey Prince, eh? Bata and I do enjoy breaking his toys."
Buruma wondered briefly how many slaves Bejita had previously owned.
She let out a quiet squeak, and Jisu pinned her against the wall, holding her by her jaw and her left wrist. He tucked his nose underneath her chin, right at her pulse, and his tongue darted out to taste her.
Buruma felt defiled.
She didn't like it.
"GET THE HELL OFF ME, YOU POMPOUS ASS!" she screamed.
Jisu chuckled. "Just hold still."
She kicked him in the groin, but was met with the guards that hung from his waist. She reached forward to claw at his eyes with her free hand, but he let go of her chin and caught her wrist, pinning her down further. As a last resort, Buruma threw her head forward and head-butted him.
It left her dazed.
She felt movement, like something tugging at the neckline of her shirt. Then it was gone, and she felt like she was falling. She hit something – the ground? – and blinked. When her vision cleared for a moment, she saw a smaller, dark shape punching Jisu in the face.
Buruma heard a high-pitched scream, and felt like somebody was hitting her fists with a big, flat piece of metal. Then she felt someone grab her, and a sharp blow to the back of her head.
Buruma opened her eyes and noticed that everything was moving strangely. The hallways seemed to bob up and down ever so slightly, and it also seemed to be growing…no, not growing…coming closer. She blinked and waited for her vision to clear, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a sleek, white breastplate. She glanced up and saw Bejita staring straight ahead with a set jaw and narrowed eyes. He carried her gently, even though she knew that he was imagining crushing her with his bare hands.
She wisely said nothing, just hid her face in his armor and cried silently.
PART 7. Fever.
He is sick today.
That is the only possible reason why he hadn't kicked her awake this morning. Bejita-sama was sick.
Buruma opened her eyes slowly, wondering why she was waking up on her own. Buruma wasn't a morning person; never had been, never would be. She had decided long ago, practically freshman year of high school, that she could not under any circumstances get up without an alarm. Otherwise, she would sleep until 9:00 or 10, depending on how tired she was.
The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the blocky red Standard numbers of the clock that sat on the far end of Bejita's dresser. He never used it, not as an alarm, anyway, so there was no reason to keep it so close. Buruma blinked sleepily, then sat up on her elbow when she noticed that the clock read the equivalent of 6:30.
Bejita always woke up at 6:00 sharp. Always. The man had his own personal alarm clock built into his brain. He always woke her up the minute his eyes opened, too, normally (as mentioned earlier) with a kick the second his feet hit the floor. She slept on a low cot beside his bed, so this was a regular occurrence, but she still hadn't gotten used to it. At least he had learned not to leave bruises anymore – because she worked slower when she had bruises – but that was beside the point. The point was that Bejita always woke at 6:00 sharp, and yet she had not been kicked awake.
It always took him precisely 30 minutes to get ready, and by time that thirty minutes was up, Buruma had half of his breakfast finished. During the second thirty minutes, he would eat while she continued to cook, and after finishing his meal he would leave silently to report to Furiza. It was a simple routine that they'd fallen into almost immediately upon her arrival to the giant mother-ship (and the term 'almost' was used because he first had to engrain it into her mind that he did not tolerate slackers or procrastinators of any kind), the same one that they followed every single day.
So why was he not awake?
Buruma sat the rest of the way up and looked around the room, rubbing her eyes. When she opened them again and still saw darkness, she gasped, then realized that it was only because the lights were out and her vision was still adjusting. After a moment, she could make out the shapes of the plain furniture of Bejita's room, which always looked slightly out of shape from her cot on the floor, and the lump near the foot of Bejita's bed.
She glanced beside her and was shocked to see Bejita still lying in bed, his body curled halfway into a ball. She climbed to her feet quietly and brushed her fingers against his forehead. His skin was burning hot and covered in a thin layer of sweat, and he shifted at her cool touch, groaning softly.
Buruma bit her lip, cursing softly. She had no idea what to do with a sick Saiyajin. She didn't know Saiyajins could get sick.
She thought back to the things he'd done the last month, and after a while, she decided that he must have caught something while out on a purge. He'd just recently returned from one (during which he had locked her in his room and for bid her to leave under any circumstances whatsoever), so it was possible that he'd been infected with a foreign disease.
She bit her lip again, wondering what her chances of escape were if she killed him. She would have to navigate through a ship she'd been on for months but hadn't once explored (well, she had once, but she hadn't gotten far), not to mention steal a pod without being detected, and figure out how to get back to Chikyuu when she had no idea where in the cosmos she was.
She sighed, and left the room silently, returning with a bowl of cool water and a rag. She left again and came back with a chair, in which she sat down by his bed, dipping the rag into the water and pressing it to his forehead. After a little bit, she stood up and pulled back his covers to straighten them (trying very hard not to let her feminine persona convince her to revel in the eye-candy), and as she did so, she noticed a small cut on the back of his neck.
Buruma jumped upon hearing a knock at the door, wringing out the cold rag quickly and setting it back against the Prince's forehead before she went to the door. She glanced at the little com-link screen at the side of the door and pressed a button (a very special button that she'd installed herself) and the com-link switched to the view of the camera outside the door (one she had also installed). To her relief, it was not someone dangerous, and she opened the door.
"Radittsu-san, Nappa-san," Buruma greeted stoically.
Nappa, like Radittsu, was much taller than Bejita. Both were overly muscled and colossal in stature; Nappa was a giant, probably seven feet tall, with a bald head and a long but thin mustache. He was the rather dopey one of the group, Buruma thought, always making crude jokes and never really shutting up. Radittsu rose just past his shoulder, and his torso was probably 5 inches smaller in width than the older Saiyajin, which was saying a lot because Radittsu was a very massive man.
Nappa hmphed, folding his massive arms, but Radittsu said, "Buruma-chan. Where is Bejita-sama?"
Buruma frowned deeply. "He's sick."
They blinked. "Sick?"
"Whataya mean, sick?" Nappa demanded. "Bejita-sama doesn't get sick. He's a Saiyajin!"
"I know," Buruma snapped. "I know he's Saiyajin. But that doesn't change the fact that he has a fever."
Buruma rather liked with these two came over. She could talk to them anyway she liked, if only because she belonged to Bejita no Ouji, and they couldn't injure/maim/murder anyone who belonged to their prince. She did actually like Radittsu-san, but she absolutely hated Nappa, so she often took her frustrations at Bejita out on him.
"So suddenly," Radittsu murmured, scratching the back of his head. "He hasn't been showing any symptoms of getting sick."
"Ouji-sama is a skilled actor," Buruma muttered. Actually, she noticed that he'd seem quiet for the past few days, and grouchier too, but she'd chalked it up as someone (probably Cui) getting on his nerves again. A mistake on her part; now that she realized he was actually sick, she knew that if Cui had been irritating him, he'd be pissed and yelling at the top of his lungs. And breaking things. Can't forget breaking things.
"What are we supposed to tell Furiza?" Nappa demanded.
Buruma glared at him. "Simple. Tell him Ouji-sama's sick."
"He won't believe that," Nappa growled.
"He rarely believes anything simpletons say," Buruma shot back.
"You little bi-"
"Nappa-san," Radittsu said, putting a big hand on his shoulder.
Nappa growled again, but left Buruma alone. "What's the disease? The med bay should have something," the burly Saiyajin grumbled.
Buruma was quiet for a moment. "I think it might be poison," she said.
"Poison!" Radittsu cried.
"I found a small cut on his neck," Buruma said. "Knowing you Saiyajins, one so small should have been healed by now; poison is the only explanation I could come up with."
"I bet you poisoned him!" Nappa accused. "We all know how you hate him!"
"How dare you!" Buruma hissed. "As if I could cut him anyway! I assure you, if I had poison to give to somebody I wouldn't waste it on someone as resilient as Ouji-sama anyhow! If I had poison, I'd give it to you, baka!"
Nappa's face turned red.
Radittsu tried to hold the older male back, but Nappa was much stronger and had almost reached Buruma before she could jump back properly. Instead, she fell on her butt with a shriek.
"Get out!" she screamed. "Get out right now!"
"I KILL YOU!" Nappa yelled.
"GET OUT, YOU OAF!" Buruma shot back. "You'll wake Ouji-sama! Out!"
Upon hearing this, the Saiyajin stopped, just as Buruma thought he would. The only reason she cared whether or not Bejita was awoken was because she would have to put up with his yelling, but that wasn't to say she wouldn't use that excuse to get Nappa out.
Nappa growled once more before he straightened abruptly, turning on his heel and marching out the door. Radittsu looked back at her, his eyebrows knitted (Buruma couldn't help but notice how much he looked like Son-kun when he did that) and said, "Sorry, Buruma-chan. I'll bring a medicine later."
Buruma closed the door.
Radittsu did come back later, this time alone, much to Buruma's relief. "Malaka said this would cure the poison from the creatures of the planet we purged," he said. "Give this to him to drink…if he won't take it, mix it in his food. And he said to put a little bit of this salve on the cut, and clean it every 4 hours. Oh, and make sure there aren't any tiny barbs in the cut. Those'll re-infect him."
Buruma nodded and took it. "Arigatou, Radittsu-san."
He grunted in acknowledgement, the same way Saiyajins did in response to everything, and left. Buruma sighed, rubbing her temples. Her head was beginning to hurt. Damn Saiyajins.
She set the medicine on Bejita's dresser and went to examine the cut on his neck. He groaned again and stiffed, and Buruma flinched and drew back. The last time she'd woken him while he was sleeping (to be fair, it was in the middle of the night, and she couldn't help it if she screamed in her sleep) he'd jumped up and attacked her. He'd still been half asleep, and he let go when he became fully conscious, but that didn't mean she wanted a repeat.
She bit her lip and went to retrieve a pair of tweezers in case there really was a barb in the cut, then sat down beside his bed and touched his shoulder. His skin was burning hot, and she knew his temperature had to be at least over 106, because she had asked Radittsu about it before and he said that a Saiyajin's normal body temperature was around 103 degrees Fahrenheit.
"Bejita-sama," she said softly, "Ouji-sama, it's me."
He groaned softly through closed lips, but didn't otherwise answer her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then carefully moved to check the cut. She looked closely, and sure enough, deep into the cut was a small black barb.
"Baka otoko," she muttered. "Stupid man." He should have had this looked at, but no, he had to be tough. Sheesh…
She'd give him the benefit of the doubt that he hadn't known it was there in the first place, but he still should have said if he felt sick.
Putting her hand lightly on his back, she slowly prodded at the barb. He flinched, but he didn't otherwise move. Before she had a chance to lose her nerve, Buruma took the tweezers and plucked the barb out in one try.
Bejita didn't move.
Letting out yet another breath, though this time of relief, Buruma wrapped the barb in some tissues and threw it in the trash. She picked up the container of salve and looked at it with a critical eye; it was kind of thin to be salve, though still gunky, and a strange blue color. Shrugging, as she didn't know what space medicine was supposed to look like anyway, she did as Radittsu instructed and smoothed a little bit of the salve on the cut, and was amazed to see it already beginning to heal. Bejita's fever was still raging, however; she would need him to wake up and eat something.
While she waited, she made soup.
She rung the rag out again over a bowl of fresh, clean water and pressed it to his forehead again. The Prince lay on his back, still unconscious. His fever hadn't broken in the past 7 hours she'd been taking care of him, but it had gotten slightly better. She smoothed his knitted eyebrows and nudged his cheek, trying to rouse him again. He murmured something softly in his native language, and rolled onto his side so that he was facing her. She sighed quietly and pressed the rag against his temple, then let out a small cry of shock when his onyx eyes fluttered open.
"Bejita-sama!" she exclaimed.
He looked at her from beneath his thick eyelashes, then closed his eyes again and muttered tiredly, "What are you doing, you baka onna?"
"Taking care of your sick ass," she said without thinking. Her eyes widened when she realized what she'd said.
He cracked one eye opened again to glare at her, then closed it once more. "This sick ass wants food," he mumbled.
Buruma blinked, then snickered softly. "Here, sit up," she said, moving to help him into a sitting position. He glared at her and tried to refuse her help, but she'd already pushed him up before he could protest.
"Radittsu got this from Malaka," she said, holding up the medicine. It was a clear liquid in a small, 3 ounce bottle, labeled in the bulky lettering of Standard Writing. "You're supposed to take it to rid your system of the poison."
He scowled heavily. "I'm not taking anything that crazy old coot came up with," he said defiantly.
"You could die, Bejita."
"That's Bejita-sama to you," he snapped immediately. "I'm not taking it."
"Ouji-sama, please just take it. It will help with the poison," she said, trying to convince him further.
"No." It was a firm reply, one that meant he was not budging. She knew the tone well.
She sighed and picked up a bowl of soup instead. "Fine, be that way. Here, eat something."
He looked suspicious, but he reached for the soup anyway. Buruma immediately drew back and held it out of his reach. His eyes widened at her audacity, then hissed, "How dare you –"
She shoved the spoon in his mouth before he could finish. As he was talking, and would have otherwise choked, he swallowed it. Then he yelled, "You baka! What the hell is wrong with you!"
"You're sick," she replied simply. "You are tired and grumpy, and I'm not cleaning you up if you drop this bowl in your lap. Now, if you would be so kind, shut up and open wide."
He glared at her heatedly. "I'll remember this later, make no mistake," he said maliciously.
Buruma held the spoon up to his lips. He scowled at her a while longer, then opened his mouth. She feed him another spoonful of soup, and deftly caught the single drop that ran down his bottom lip.
By time the bowl was finished, Bejita's eyes were drooping. He blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake, and he again looked at the bowl suspiciously. "What's wrong with me?" he asked, his words slurring a bit.
Buruma smiled wickedly and motioned to the bowl. "Nothing. You just took your medicine like a good Ouji-sama, is all."
"You tricked me," he accused, his head already nodding.
She smirked at him. "Yes, I did. But look on the bright side. Now you won't die in your sleep. Or any other time."
He glared at her fiercely, or at least, he tried to, and his eyes fell shut. Buruma shook her head, a small smile on her lips, then wrapped her arms around his torso and easing him back into bed.
She fell asleep sometime in the middle of the night, soon after Bejita's fever broke. She awoke in a heap, but not beside the bed. To her surprise, she found herself in Bejita's bed, opposite the side he slept on (which was strange, because she had never moved to that side while taking care of him) with the comforter pulled up to her shoulder. Even stranger was the fact that Bejita was gone, and it was 8:30.
Buruma sat up and rubbed her eyes, and went to look around the Prince's quarters. His armor, gloves, and boots were all gone.
When he came home a few hours later, she had cooked him a rather extravagant meal with 10 extra plates.
PART 8. Banquet.
Buruma rubbed her sore lip tenderly. Apparently, when she had fallen asleep reading, Radittsu's book decided to turn into a ninja and attack her face. Go figure.
So now, after being so rudely awakened, she had a sore lip and a headache. Buruma was not in the mood to be putting up with any bull from anybody, not until she'd gotten ice on her face and had a nap.
That was unfortunate, because Bejita and the Saiyajins had been dismissed early today.
Bejita came in and took off his boots, chucking them at the wall with unusual force. She heard him swearing in multiple languages (she now knew 26 curse words in 14 different languages) and after a loud crash, she figured there must be a hole in the wall.
She stood up from her cot and smoothed her outfit (apparently it was a crime against nature to look like she just got out of bed when in the presence of royalty) and went to meet him at the door. She was surprised to find him sitting against the wall with his knees propped up, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he'd just gotten the worst news of his life.
"Bejita-sama?" she asked, somewhat timidly. These types of his moods were rare; she hardly ever saw him stressed to the point of him being too exhausted to even throw a tantrum.
"What?" he snapped.
"Are…are you alright?"
"I'm fan-fucking-tastic, thanks," he bit out sarcastically.
He sighed and rubbed his temples. "There's a banquet coming up," he muttered.
Buruma blinked. "A…a banquet? That's why you're angry?"
"If you'd been to one of Furiza's banquets, you'd think twice about saying something so idiotic," he retorted. "And no. Banquets are inconvenient, but that isn't the worst of it."
She bit her tongue to keep from returning a scalding remark. "Then what is the worst of it, if I might be so bold as to ask?"
He looked as if he was contemplating glaring at her, but then changed his mind. Instead, he sighed again and said, "Furiza has gotten wind of the fact that I have a new plaything."
She was confused at first. "A new playthi – oh. You mean me."
"Yes, you," he growled. "And on this ship, when you get a new 'toy', you show it off to people at the most public event possible."
Buruma's right eye twitched slightly. "Well, all I do is cook and clean for you, Bejita-sama. I don't see what interest he has in me."
"Furiza knows that some slaves have particular talents," Bejita said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "He'll want to make sure you aren't a spy of some sort, and if not, and you do have some sort of talent, he'll put you to work in his barracks."
Realization dawned on her features. "He'll take me from you."
A low growl resonated through the room. "Yes."
She swallowed, wondering briefly if he was annoyed by this because he didn't like his 'playthings' being stolen, or because he rather liked his current plaything. "Well…it's a good thing I have no talents, then."
Bejita thought back to when she'd picked the lock on his room door, which was coded with high security passcodes and even higher technology wiring.
"Yes," he murmured. "Good thing."
He looked at himself in the mirror with slightly furrowed brows, and let his breath out slowly. His lips were turned down at the corners, and a sort of disappointed look in his eyes.
He hated this outfit.
His crisp, stiff white shirt was mostly hidden underneath his coat, which was a deep, thorough shade of blue that was so dark that you couldn't tell whether or not it was actually black. The buttons were oriented to the right of his chest, about three inches from the side seam, though they were so smoothly hidden that it looked as though there weren't any buttons at all. The top-most button was just below the edge of his right his collar bone, upon which the placket would make its slightly sloped ascent to the left side of his collar in a smooth, almost parabolic fashion. The collar was folded down neatly, with a thin line of silver along the edge, and was made so that it would purposely flare out around his neck to reveal a little of the earlier mentioned white shirt and thin silver scarf that was tied ascot-style. The cuffs-links were silver also (Furiza hated gold, for some inexplicable reason), and as a high ranking soldier, Bejita was allowed to wear cuff-links with the insignia of the Royal House of Bejita indented on them. Tucked slightly underneath the sleeves of the jacket were sleek white gloves, much shorter than the ones he normally wore (these only went slightly past his wrist) and made of the same silky material as his scarf, with visible seams just for elegance. These, he had learned long ago, were much more fitting for such things like banquets, instead of the battle oriented ones he'd rather be wearing.
His pants were of the same color as his jacket, pressed to perfection and just as stiff and uncomfortable as the rest of the outfit. The pockets were slanted and slightly smaller than the average pant pocket would be, as they were very thin and only for show, and had a single, tiny silver button where the lower end of the pocket met the thigh. On his feet there were shined black boots, with no visible laces, buttons, or any traces of color.
Upon his jacket there were medals, none of which were for achievement or honor (Furiza didn't give those out; too rewarding, apparently) but were entirely for show of rank. Six of eight possible silver pins were clipped on his breast, all lined up neatly below his left shoulder so that they could contrast the silver outline of the collar, placket, cuffs, and hem. On his left shoulder (the main orientation of all uniforms, as Ice-jins were notoriously left handed) there was the cold empire insignia, and again, because he was of high rank, the Saiyajin insignia was just below it, both sewn in blood red. Even though the outfit was not nearly as fitting as his armor, it still gripped his muscles snugly and showed of his rather impressive physique.
Bejita hated this outfit.
He let out another disgusted breath as he looked at himself again and straightened his collar, then made the most terrifying scowl he could muster and spun on his heel. The banquet would begin in roughly thirty minutes, and if that sabanto of his wasn't ready in the next two, he'd drag her there whether she was presentable or not.
He opened the door to his bedroom and opened his mouth to call to her (he had kicked her out of his room so he could dress) but closed it when he heard the echoing clicks of shoes against the floor. Buruma appeared in the doorway of the short hallway that separated his room from his kitchen and dining area, and they both stopped and looked at each other.
She wore a type of kimono, something Bejita had no trouble acquiring (acquiring means sending Radittsu to fetch it) at the tailoring shop of a man who owed him a favor. It was long and airy, the material falling to her ankles and just barely touching the top of her foot. It was a deep purple at the shoulders, which slowly darkened to black the closer it got to the hem, and had white lilies, lily pads, and a few other small, pink lake flowers splayed across her middle, with petals and even tinnier plants scattered very loosely at the bottom. The silk sash was tied underneath her breasts, and her hair was done up in a bun that appeared strangely wavy despite her straight hair. It was held up with two long hair sticks, though on strand that had been deviously curled hung about her face. On her feet there were small black shoes, with flat heels and a thin cord bow on the edge of the toes. Her body was void of jewelry, though her lips had been painted a pale, nearly clear pink, and the whole outfit made her milky skin stand out as though she'd been carved from the palest of marble.
He stared at her, and she stared at him, until finally she blinked and bowed at the waist. "Ouji-sama," she murmured.
"Buruma," he returned, and his deep voice was softer than usual, perhaps with dread.
It was the first that he had said her name in a long time.
When they walked out the door, her hands wrapped daintily around his arm as though he was escorting her, his subordinates were already waiting. Radittsu and Nappa are dressed similarly to Bejita, though Nappa only had 4 medals and Radittsu only 3. It was still high ranking, as most soldiers never received any type of medal at all, and because of this, they were also allowed to wear their specially made cuff-links. Buruma was surprised at how similar the fashion was to that of Chikyuu, but she knew better than to question anything.
Radittsu looked at her and whistled. "Damn, Bejita, maybe I should go out and buy a slave too!" he joked.
Buruma felt Bejita's tail bristle slightly near her arm, and just because she could, she stuck her tongue out at Radittsu, glaring at him childishly. In return, he laughed and winked at her slyly. Nappa rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue disapprovingly.
"None of that foolish banter at the banquet, onna," Bejita scolded, though his tone lacked the usual malice.
She nodded. "Of course not, Bejita-sama," she said, falling back into servant-speak as though the actions had never been performed in the first place. Bejita wrinkles his nose at her subtle, almost unnoticeable mockery of him, but because he was tired, he let it slide.
He could never actually prove it, anyway.
"She is lovely, Bejita," Furiza murmured, sipping his wine glass as he leaned his chin on one black nailed hand.
Bejita tensed, but he said, "Arigatou, Furiza-sama."
"And, where did you say she was from?"
"I didn't. Her planet was destroyed."
With his enhanced senses, he noted that Buruma was about to gasp in horror. Since she sat close enough to him to bump elbows, he deftly reached over and pinched her leg. She bit her lip to hold back a hiss, but the message was clear: he was lying.
They sat at a long dining table, separate from anyone else. The ones present consisted of the Saiyajins and the Ginyu Force, as well as two other men, one of which was gorgeous, with blue skin and green hair, and the other who was hideous, with pink skin covered in spikes. The dining hall was large and open, with no separation from what would be considered the dance floor, though no one was yet dancing because Furiza had not given them the go to.
Furiza was just as terrifying as Bejita had described the first time she asked, though he wasn't nearly as enormous as she had dreamed. He was unbearably short and tiny, but that had nothing to do with the hideous aura about him that radiated evil. His face, hands, and feet were a light, violet purple, so pale that it was almost white, and his arms and legs were pink. On his wrists and ankles, there were white pieces of what could either be a part of his armor or a part of his flesh, and on top of his head there was a large purple dome and black horns. His eyes were the most chilling of reds, and his naturally pursed lips were a deep shade of purple. There were no insignias on his armor, which was also purple, nor were there any pins to signify rank (Buruma wondered why everyone else wore uniforms, and yet the galactic overlord, who apparently couldn't be harmed by anyone, was still dressed for battle).
"I've never seen such a Saiyajin-like creature," the tyrant said lazily. "Are you sure she isn't simply a hybrid?"
Bejita looked insulted. "A female with her coloring," he scoffed, as though it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.
"Yes, I supposed that is true."
Nappa and Radittsu, who sat in order of rank on the opposite side of Bejita, glanced at each other a bit nervously, and the questions began.
"What's your name, dear?" Furiza inquired.
She glanced at Bejita, who gave a swift nod. "Buruma," she said quietly. She had decided that it was better to pretend to be meek, after the incident with Jisu, who, as a Rank 7, sat closer to Furiza on the opposite side of the table with the rest of his task force. The Force looked unbearably funny in the uniforms that the Saiyajins looked so nice in, and they each had the Ginyu insignia below Furiza's on their shoulders.
"How charming," Furiza said. "And what planet are you from?"
Buruma paled slightly, and Bejita interrupted, "Aquarius."
"That explains the blue. Can she breathe underwater?"
Buruma's scientific mind instantly came up with an answer. "There were a few of us that were strictly bound to land, Furiza-sama."
It was a risky answer, but Furiza replied, "Ah, yes, the tailless ones. You've come across a rare find, Bejita."
The Saiyajin cleared his throat.
The man with the long green braid spoke next. "Have you any special talents, Buruma?" he said in a rather sultry voice.
Buruma was momentarily entranced by his beauty before she blinked and answered, "No, not really."
"None at all? Surely you must be a siren or some form of enchanted creature." His name was Zarbon, and he wore seven silver pins on his uniform.
Buruma offered a small smile. "I'm afraid my singing is terrible, more like a dying beast than a siren."
The men at the table laughed.
Jisu spoke up, "You aren't a lock picker, by any chance?"
Buruma felt herself pale again, and her mouth suddenly felt dry as she realized that Jisu must have been the one to tell Furiza about her. "What would make you think that?" she said, cleverly avoiding the question.
He shrugged. "Just wondering how you escaped from our little Beji-chan's quarters."
Bejita gritted his teeth at the name. "She did not escape. I let her out."
"Did you wish to lose her?" asked a blue man that sat beside Jisu.
"I asked Ouji-sama to let me walk around a bit. It gets cramped in his quarters," Buruma said. Bejita's eyes snapped to her, his lips set in a frown.
The men chuckled again. "Did you hear that, Bata?" Jisu said. "She calls him Ouji-sama."
Bata, the blue one, also with 7 pins, laughed with him. "Yes. How amusing."
"As if he deserves to be called that," said a purple skinned one. Ginyu. He had a whopping 8 stars. Buruma disliked him immediately.
"What a joke," said a rather giant one with orange hair. His name was Recoome, a 7 star, and Buruma noticed that he lacked a few teeth.
"A real comedian, she is," said the shortest of the Ginyu Force, Gurudo, a fat, 4 eyed man with 6 pins, which immediately led Buruma to believe that he had some type of special ability, because there is no way such a useless looking creature could possibly be as strong as the Saiyajins. Beside her, she felt Bejita quaking with rage, and his tail began to hit the side of both of their chairs viciously.
Buruma lifted her chin defiantly. "Ouji-sama is his proper title," she defended without thinking. "I suppose if someone said that Ginyu-taicho should only be called Ginyu, then that would be most disrespectful. Is it not the same principle?"
The table fell silent. Everyone was staring at her, and Buruma suddenly felt that she had said something that maybe she shouldn't have. The Ginyu Force's mouths were hanging open, as were Nappa's and Radittsu's. Furiza looked mildly amused, and Bejita stared at her with wide eyes.
Suddenly, Furiza chuckled. "I should have known. A spitfire." He leaned closer to Bulma as though he was going to tell her a secret, and whispered loudly, "Bejita has a tendency to kill any meek slaves he buys after a month or so."
Buruma made a mental note to talk back to Bejita a little bit more than she had been, just in case.
The rest of the meal went by rather smoothly, though not without subtle insults and slurs. Buruma was strangely silent the rest of the time, and found herself filled with a newfound respect for the Saiyajins. Seeing what they must go through on a daily basis was difficult, as Buruma had a tendency to verbally rebuke such behaviors whenever she saw them. Finally, after much idle chatter and stacks of empty plates (yet another reason why the Saiyajins were mocked), Furiza snapped his fingers, and the room fell silent.
"You may dance now," he said, waving his wine glass noncommittally. The blood red wine in the glass sloshed a bit, and Buruma wondered how the guy wasn't totally plastered.
The soldiers rose quickly, determined to get to whatever females were available as soon as possible, before they were all taken. On this ship, dancing normally ended with dirty dancing, and dirty dancing often (always) ended with sex. Radittsu was gone so fast that Buruma barely had time to blink before he disappeared, and Nappa was gone in similar manner. Jisu had the nerve to offer his hand to her, and despite her want to claw his eyes out right then and there, she only clutched Bejita's arm tightly and leaned closer to him. He sniffed at her, but not before quickly baring his teeth at Jisu.
The red skinned alien laughed. "You slave wants to dance with you, Beji-chan," he teased.
"Is she a slave with benefits, Bejita?" Furiza asked casually.
The Prince's cheeks darkened slightly, and his eyes narrowed to slits. He pinched Buruma's leg again to stop her from jumping to her feet in fury, and he could see her jaw clenching angrily out of the corner of his eye. "No," he answered, his voice nearly lowered into a growl. "She is not. She is a slave, and nothing more."
Furiza licked his purple lips. "Perhaps I will steal her, and put her to better use," he said slyly.
Just so he could leave the table, Bejita stood abruptly. "Buruma," he snapped, and spun on his heel towards the dance floor. Buruma jumped up and ran after him.
"What a bastard," she whispered when they were out of earshot, though it was more to herself than to him. The music, a fast paced beat that was surprisingly not as techno as she expected, was almost unbearably loud in her ears, and she wondered how someone like Bejita and the Saiyajins could stand it.
Bejita, who had been muttering furiously to himself in Saiyago, growled, "I would give anything to kill him."
"They're watching us," she said quietly, glancing back as she quickened her pace to keep up with him.
He stopped and whirled to face her, so abruptly that she literally crashed into his chest. "I know. Shut up and dance." With that, he grabbed her hands and spun her until she was dizzy.
When they finally sat down at one of the two person seats that had been set up, Buruma's legs felt like jelly. "You can dance for a freaking long time, Bejita-sama," she panted.
He snorted. "No, you just can't dance for more than a pathetically short amount of time."
"Whatever," she muttered, squeezing his arm chidingly.
"Mind your place, Onna," Bejita said, but he made no move to shake her off.
She sighed again and leaned back against the chair. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and glanced back towards their table. Furiza hadn't moved from his chair, and his red eyes were still watching them.
His gaze made her freeze.
Bejita pulled on her arm so abruptly that she nearly landed in his lap, giving a surprised yelp as she lost her balance. "What was that for –"she started to hiss.
The Prince pushed her head into his shoulder. "Hush, and stop looking at him. Do you want him to be interested in you?"
"Then do as I say."
She did, and kept her face buried in his neck. She felt tired, and suddenly wondered why she ever wanted out of Bejita's quarters in the first place. His room seemed like the safest place she'd ever known now, even though she knew that was a lie. She still felt Furiza's ice cold gaze on them, and it made her shiver.
"I'd give my soul to kill him," Bejita murmured hatefully.
Buruma bit her lip, so hard that it almost started bleeding. Finally, above the ear-splitting music, Buruma lifted her chin and put her lips against his ear, as though she was kissing him.
"I can build something to make you stronger," she whispered.
His eyes widened for a moment, and after glancing quickly (suspiciously) around the room, he turned his face toward her as if nipping her jaw. "What are you talking about?" he demanded softly.
"Remember that time I unlocked the door to your quarters? Child's play."
The next morning, Bejita left for work early. He escorted Buruma to the main lab, where she introduced to the scientist a method of production that would allow them to create enormous products in a tiny, tiny space, accessible by shrinking yourself down in a similar manner. You could build something inside the tiny space, and when you were finished, you could take it somewhere else and make it life-size. It was called capsulization.
She began work on a special new gun (a gun that was now common in Chikyuu's military, thanks to Capsule Corporation), and though she had finished it in less than a day, she pretended that it would take her months so she could build a gravity room in secret.
PART 9. Report.
Buruma shook the pan back and forth across the flames, the food sliding around inside as it smoked and hissed. Ouji-sama would be home in an hour, and she'd be finished cooking in four more pans. Plenty of time.
She actually only needed one more pan, but she wanted to be on his good side tonight. She had rather…unfortunate news for him. He would only ask her on Mokuyō, the Saiyajin equivalent for Thursdays, which was today. She'd rather he be full and happy (or whatever the Bejita equivalent for happy was) when she gave the report.
An hour later, right on time, she heard the locking mechanism on his door being hit with its usual force. Good, that meant he wasn't in a particularly bad mood. She heard mildly heavy footsteps, and a clunk of boots against the floor, and the footsteps all but vanished. Buruma stood attentively in the eating area, where her freshly made feast was set out and ready. Bejita-sama walked in, barefooted, with his usual scowl on his face, until he took notice of the food. His tongue darted over his lips quickly, and he immediately turned on his heel towards the bathroom. When he came back, his gloves and breastplate were gone, leaving him clad in only his blue jumpsuit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
"Bejita Ouji-sama," Buruma greeted curtly, bowing slightly.
He grunted, already sitting cross-legged and reaching for his plate, his tail thumping softly against the floor. He ate for ten minutes straight without looking up or saying a word, and Buruma just stood silently at his side, waiting for him to ask the question.
He paused, and she slowly breathed in, but he only said, "There's extra today, Buruma."
She swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Ouji-sama."
"Any reason why?" he asked casually.
"Ah – no, Bejita-sama."
He gave her a look that said he clearly did not believe her. In the same tone as before, he said, "You're thin, Buruma."
Buruma's eyebrow's knitted. So, he'd noticed too. "Yes, Ouji-sama."
"Why don't you eat something, then?" he asked, ripping meat off of something similar to Chikyuu's turkey leg with his teeth.
"You eat a lot of food, Bejita no Ouji," Buruma said, rather disdainfully.
"I am a Saiyajin," he replied, as though her words and tone were meaningless to him. "I don't eat too much, you eat too little. Now, eat."
Her eyes widened just a bit, and she shook her head before bowing low. "I couldn't, Bejita-sama."
"You can't do as I asked you?" His voice took on a dangerously calm, patient tone.
"It's not my place." The comment was just barely sarcastic, a subtle reminder of what he often told her on a daily basis.
"It's your place to do as I ordered, which you can't do if you don't eat. Now, eat."
"I cooked extra for you, Bejita. Not for me."
"That's Bejita no Ouji to you, Sabanto," he snapped, his patience gone. "Do as I say."
She winced at the name, but she gave in nonetheless, if only to avoid being slapped. She sat down on one of the extra pillows (there were always three, in case his subordinates dropped by to discuss strategies or purges) and reached for her silverware. She ate her hiyayakko in silence, glancing up periodically to look at the Prince's face.
Finally, Bejita said, "Progress report."
Buruma cleared her throat and lowered her chopsticks. "It's coming along nicely. I plan to have the first prototype finished within two months."
There was a heavy thud as a hand slammed against the table. "Two months?" Bejita hissed.
"I've got limited resources, Ouji-sama," Buruma said, lowering her head. Her lips fluttered silently, and had she been looking at him, he'd have seen her mouth, kisama…
"If you were missing something, you were to tell me immediately!" he snarled.
"My apologies, Ouji-sama. I just recently discovered that I needed a certain part. Because of this, I've hit a roadblock. How fast I finish depends on how fast you can get it to me."
Bejita pinched the bridge of his nose, and she heard him counting to ten in his native language very softly. Finally, he gave an irritated sigh and looked up at her. "What piece?" he demanded.
"A backup battery power module, size 17. If I don't put it in before adding anything else, I won't ever be able to."
A low growl rose in his throat, and a vein in his forehead bulged. "You halted the construction…because of a backup piece?!" he yelled, jumping to his feet. He raised his hand, and Buruma had the urge to flinch.
She didn't, because she knew he probably wouldn't, anyway.
Instead, she looked at him as calmly as possible. "A backup module is necessary, Bejita Ouji-sama. Without a backup, the machine will shut down regularly, which in turn will constantly interrupt your training."
The muscles in his arm twitched with irritation, and he lowered his hand, abruptly sliding back into a cross-legged position. "This is taking too long," he sighed softly, more to himself than to her.
Buruma whispered, "I know, Ouji-sama."
PART 10. Done.
Buruma screwed in the last piece, then smirked to herself and went inside the room she had created inside the capsule. Inside this room, she sat a large piece of metal, then stepped out of the room and reached for the remote control.
Being inside a Capsule didn't feel any different from being outside one, even though Buruma knew she was currently smaller than the tiniest speck. Still, it gave her a sense of awe, every time, that she could seriously shrink anything she wanted down.
She wondered what Bejita would think. After all, while he trained, she could keep him in her pocket, so no one crushed the capsule. It was an interesting concept, she though, chuckling to herself, to have a prince in your pocket.
She pushed a button on the remote, turning the dial to the negatives. The metal floated, and when she turned it back to the positives, it dropped down harshly and curled into itself.
"Ouji-sama!" she sang when he walked in the door.
He pulled his breastplate off over his head and raised an eyebrow at her.
"I'm finished," she grinned. She dug in her pocket, and held a capsule out to him.
He blinked, and his eyes widened. A wicked grin spread across his face for a moment, and he touched capsule while it was still in her palm, his hand lingering on hers. "This is going to make me a very happy man," he said quietly, his fingers curling around her hand.
"You can't wipe out my people when you become the new galactic overlord," Buruma whispered somberly.
He looked at her, as though seeing her as a person instead of just a slave, then said, "You have to be my servant after this is accomplished."
She smiled at him grimly, taking note of his slip, but not mentioning it. "I'm already your servant, Bejita-sama. Nothing will change."
PART 11. Increase
"I think you should start training outside the capsule."
He looked up at her from his food, watching as she lifted her rice to her lips rather slowly and licked off a grain that stuck to her lip. Her face showed no type of concern, and yet, her voice betrayed her worry. "Why?" he asked.
"Your power is getting harder for the machine to contain. If something were to happen while you were capsulized…" she trailed off.
"I'd die a speck," he finished for her.
He pressed his lips together and breathed out slowly, wondering briefly when she started to care about his wellbeing. After thinking for a minute, he said, "I want you to tell the main scientist that you've come up with an idea for a gravity room."
She gaped. "What?"
"Tell them about it. Then pretend to work on one, or build me a spare, whatever. Tell them you need a test subject." His tail makes rhythmic thumps on the floor; Buruma wondered when he became comfortable enough around her to let it loose from his waist.
"They could pick anybody," she pointed out, still looking unsure. "And they'll want to monitor your progress."
"Let me handle that."
He did handle it, and he handled it well. By passing the right information along, word got to Furiza. Buruma explained that Jisu had made her curious about the locks, and that she'd found that her planet had been more technologically advanced than she'd thought. This, apparently, was perfectly understandable, and after Buruma told him that there might be…complications, the tyrant was all too happy to make Bejita her guinea pig.
"Take care of my pet monkey, dear," the tyrant had laughed.
She said nothing in reply.
The scientists were even easier. After Buruma had told them about the project, they all wanted in on it, but after the sudden death of one scientist (who happened to be the same one Buruma had "accidently" given a little extra information to), they all backed off.
Things were going smoothly.
Buruma had to make weekly updates and daily repairs, as Bejita was not one to go easy on her machinery. His power level sky-rocketed, whether he was home training (no, not home, the ship) or out purging, during which he took the new spare capsule room and trained off world. Being Bejita, he came up with a nifty trick to hide his power level.
His purges were even quicker now that he had gained power, so much so that sometimes he could do all the work quicker on his own, while Nappa and Radittsu trained. Then, they'd simply switch places.
Two years went by easily. Buruma fed Furiza's scientist lame technology, or at least, what would be considered old school on Chikyuu. Bejita stopped calling her Sabanto. She'd been upgraded to the permanent title of "Onna", sometimes even without the "baka". Sometimes, when he was tired, he even called her by her name. Most of the time, though, he was too exhausted to even eat, and went straight to bed.
At some point, the room began to start overloading. Bejita's power often crushed the mainframe.
PART 12. Hysterics.
Buruma banged on Radittsu's door as hard as she possibly could. Her legs ached from the run; she hadn't known that she could move so fast, but as she was in the middle of a panic attack, and fearing for her life, she would probably never run that fast again.
He opened the door after a moment, wearing absolutely nothing but the bottoms of his spandex uniform, which to Buruma, looked suspiciously like underwear, and the two white bands that he wore on his left arm and leg.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
She panted, trying to catch her breath, then pushed him back into the room, ran in after him, and shut the door behind her.
"The hell –"
"Radittsu, Bejita's not checking in!" she blurted.
He blinked at her, and raised a thick black eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
"You know Bejita-sama is on a purge!" she hissed. "He's supposed to check in!"
"How would he check in if he's purging?"
"Baka! He's done with the purge, he's supposed to be training! And when he trains, he's supposed to check in so I know he didn't die!" she shrieked.
Radittsu held his hands up in surrender from where she'd backed him against the wall. "Stop screaming," he said, "and don't call me 'baka'. What if he just forgot?"
She shook her head. "We scheduled check in times to be his 2 minute breather, which is every 4 hours," she said, "so I can monitor his progress. He wants to know exactly how far he's come. Bejita would never forget to check in! Something must be wrong."
"Buruma-chan, calm down. How do you even know he's in the gravity room right now? He could be off fighting somebody."
"How stupid do you think I am?" she hissed. "I built a computer that monitors every single thing that happens in that stupid room! It monitors when it's turned on, how long it's used, the temperature, what gravity is on, everything!"
"Your point?" he prodded.
"It was on, then it just completely blinked off the radar. The machine doesn't just blink off the radar, Radittsu! It sends me a message telling me it's shutting down; it doesn't just randomly not be on anymore!"
"So what do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Call him on your scouter! Something!"
"Okay, okay, calm down. I'm sure he's fine," Radittsu said, but he started looking for his scouter anyway.
"And put on some pants!" Buruma shrieked as he got on his knees to check under his bed.
Radittsu pulled the scouter from underneath messy covers and stood up, looking at her quizzically. "These are pants," he said confusedly, his tail swishing with curiosity.
Her cheeks burned, and she hmphed. "No, they are not."
"Bejita walks around in his spandex all the time," Radittsu pointed out.
Her cheeks darkened further, and she grumbled, "I know."
"So what's different?"
"Bejita has on pants! You're wearing underwear!"
"I am not," he defended. "This is part of my armor." He paused, then grinned. "Maybe you just don't mind seeing Bejita-sama half-naked."
Buruma shrieked. "Just make the stupid call!"
He snickered and pushed the button on his scouter, figures and symbols flashing on the green, glassy surface. He sat on the edge of his bed and began to drum his fingers on his dresser, then he took his scouter off and frowned at it.
"He's not answering," Radittsu said, sounding puzzled.
"I knew it," Buruma whispered, on the verge of hysteria. "I told you! Machines don't just disappear off the fucking radar!"
"Buruma! Calm down! I'm sure he's fine," Radittsu said, but even he was starting to look frazzled. Bejita always answered his scouter. On such a planet that would only require one Saiyajin to purge in a month, well, there would be no reason for him not to answer it. The burly Saiyajin started opening his drawers and tossing shirts on the ground after briefly sniffing them (Buruma had a sudden 'ah-ha!' moment) before he finally found a decent smelling one and threw it on over his head.
"Get my armor," he said as his head surfaced from the material, and he shook his long hair out of the back of his shirt. Buruma ran to dig around in his closet (that's where Bejita kept his, anyway) and immerged with the giant breastplate . Radittsu was hopping on one foot, trying to get on his boot, his tail sticking out and waving for balance. Finally, he stood up and took the armor from her and slid it over his head, then grabbed his gloves and raced out the door without shutting it.
Radittsu ran back inside and grabbed her, tossing her over his shoulder. Buruma shriek and bopped him in the head, which amounted to nothing.
"Put me down!" she demanded.
"You have to give me clearance to get your test subject," Radittsu replied. "Otherwise, I can't leave."
Buruma stopped struggling.
They were fortunate enough to get a pad launch monitor that had large, and thus very sensitive, ears.
PART 13. Did it.
"…Jita-sama…Bej…Bejita, can you hear me?"
Bejita opened his eyes slowly, and saw a giant silhouette outlined against the too bright sun.
"Whataya want?" he moaned.
"Sweet, you're not dead. Buruma would've killed me."
Bejita glared at him and closed his eyes.
The Prince was laying on his back underneath some shade, not too far from his pod, or the giant heap of scrap metal that used to be the gravity capsule. His armor was cracked and chipped, the blue spandex torn and ripped, and his skin shining with sweat. Beside him, Radittsu saw pieces of a red scouter.
"Any particular reason you're just lying there?" Radittsu asked.
"No. I just felt like being lazy. What the hell is the matter with you? Take me back to the ship."
Radittsu grinned at him smugly. "The Prince is asking me to carry him back?"
He cracked open one eye and glared. "Hell, no. I just want to get up, baka. I'm tired as crap. Get me up."
Shaking his head in amusement, Radittsu held out his hand. He pulled Bejita to his feet, upon which the shorter Saiyajin immediately pushed him away and started to limp back to his pod.
Halfway there, he passed out and collapsed on the ground, and Radittsu had to carry him back anyway.
Despite the fact that he hated the sedatives, the doctors put the medication in with the healing liquid anyway. When he woke up, it was 2 AM, and he was so tired that he went straight to his room and crawled into bed. He fell asleep before his head hit the pillow, and thus he didn't notice the skinny female shape that lay on the other side of the bed.
The shrieked startled him out of his sleep, and he bolted up in bed with a sharp cry of surprise. "What the hell!"
His slave was staring at him with wide eyes, her blue hair tousled and messy. Her bed clothes, a too-big grey tank top and shorts, were wrinkled and lopsided; Buruma was a heavy sleeper.
"You're here," she said.
He sniffed at her. "No, I'm a robot Bejita. The real one is still in outer space."
"Not funny," she said, but she chuckled a bit. The chuckle sounded kind of like a hiccup, or a sob. A single tear pricked at her eye, and she brushed it away quickly.
Bejita was quiet for a moment, and silence reigned. Buruma stared at him for what seemed like a long time, and finally, Bejita said, "I did it."
She blinked, still tired. "Did what?"
He had only told her of the miracle that was Super Saiyajin once, a long time ago, but she remembered. She let out a shaky laugh, then gasped happily, "Oh my God," and she fell to her knees and sobbed in relief, the stress of the past year falling off her shoulders like a huge weight.
Her planet was safe.
He watched her for a moment, then climbed out of bed and knelt in front of her. Taking her chin into his hand, he forced her to look at him.
"I want you to skip work in the morning," he said softly. "Pack up anything you wish to take with you. I'm killing Furiza tomorrow."
She put her hand on top of his and searched his eyes for a lie. Finding none, she asked, "Are you sure?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She inhaled slowly and let it out between slightly parted lips. She looked into his determined onyx eyes, and her baby blues were filled with something that looked suspiciously like trust, but couldn't be, shouldn't be, because he was her master and she was his slave.
"Alright," she said quietly. "I believe in you. Kick his ass, Bejita."
He did not correct her on his title.
PART 14. Go home.
Not for the first time, Buruma felt towered.
The Saiyajins were walking beside her, and as the shortest one there, she felt slightly uncomfortable. To make things worse, they'd somehow ended up walking from tallest to shortest; it went Nappa, Radittsu, Bejita, then her. She felt like a mouse.
But maybe that was okay, because she was leaving.
Bejita was going to send her to a planet, though the name was unbeknownst to her, until it was safe to come out of hiding. He would then come to retrieve her, and begin his galactic rule over the universe. She would stay with people who owed him yet another favor, and apparently would be happy to care for her until the Saiyajin no Ouji returned. It may take a while, he had told her, because there would no doubt be a rebellion once the Ice-jin tyrant was dead.
Bejita was going to make some…changes.
The only one he would tell her was that he would not, under any circumstances, tolerate child soldiers. Before he'd fallen completely asleep, and thinking that she was already unconscious, she'd once heard him mutter, "If I see one kid in a uniform, somebody's head's coming off."
She already knew why, though Bejita didn't know she knew.
They were quiet this morning, and it struck Buruma that she might not see them for years. She had given up any hope of ever seeing her planet ever again, so the Saiyajins were the next familiar thing that she had to hold on to.
Thinking about all this was depressing.
Everyone seemed usually wary of them today, or at least, more so than usual. She didn't know why; Bejita's power would only be revealed if he raised it, so there was no reason for anybody to be afraid…just yet. Perhaps it was the air about him; Bejita was particularly confident today. That, mixed with his usual arrogance and determined features, made him quiet scary to anyone he detested, which was anyone outside his squad.
They walked to the launching pad, and Bejita silently left to talk to the launching monitor. It was still quiet amongst the small group when he returned.
"Buruma," he said firmly, "You'll go to Chikyuu."
She let out a cry of shock. "What?"
"Radittsu, you'll go with her," the Saiyajin no Ouji continued.
"WHAT?" Radittsu cried in horror.
"Bejita, what are you talking about?" Nappa asked.
"You can't leave me to babysit her!" Radittsu shrieked.
"Don't question me, Third Class," Bejita snapped. "Nappa will be enough to take on the small fries. I will handle anyone above Cui's rank."
That was a limited amount of people, but since Bejita was fighting Furiza, Radittsu at least though he should get to kill some worthless ones…
"Bejita," Buruma said, so quietly that they almost didn't hear her. "Why am I going home?" Going home…the phrase seemed so foreign to her. Buruma felt like crying.
"Because I said so, Onna," he replied, in a much less biting tone than what he'd used with Radittsu. He grabbed her wrist, the one that wasn't preoccupied with holding a small bag of belongings, and started walking again before they could question him further. Radittsu's pod was ready and waiting when they came to it, and the burly Saiyajin got in reluctantly before Bejita pushed Buruma towards the tiny little ship.
She stopped before she got in, and looked back at him hesitantly. His tail curled and uncurled at his side, as though he were relaxed and content. Taking a deep breath, she made a quick decision, and before she could lose her nerve, she darted back to him and pecked his lips.
His dark eyes widened, a surprised grunt coming from his throat. Just before she pulled away, his lips moved against hers, just a tiny bit, and his now slightly fuzzy tail brushed her waist. It would be the first time she'd touched it without him being injured.
"Go home, Onna," he said again. "I'll retrieve you when I'm finished here."
She blinked back what might have been a tear, but shouldn't be, because she was only a slave, and he was her master, and without another word, she climbed into the pod with Radittsu. The door shut almost automatically. The ship rumbled as Radittsu told it which planet to fly to, and a moment later, it took off, Bejita watching them go from the launch pad.
The ride was uncomfortable. Radittsu was at least twice the size of Bejita, so she had to sit all the way in his lap, simply because there was no room. They shifted uncomfortably until Buruma found the most comfortable way to make him into a pillow, at which she gave a shaky sigh and finally let two tears slide down her cheeks, one after the other.
"What's wrong?" Radittsu asked.
Buruma stared at the ceiling of the pod and said, "I was just thinking that I must have Stockholm syndrome. It's a mental disorder that causes a person to fall for their captors."
Radittsu gave a rumbling chuckle, and the gas valves opened.
PART 15. Return.
*5 years later*
Buruma stared out her bedroom window. It had taken her a long time to get used to sleeping in her own bed again, when the room smelled stale and unused instead of like Saiyajin.
Her parents, who had thought that she was dead when she'd disappeared for three years, rejoiced in her return. She told them of her adventures, and they listened to her, and then they took her to a therapist. They did not think she was crazy, since she'd brought a space pod and an alien home with her, but they were concerned about her emotional trauma.
Yamucha was just as happy to see her. Apparently, in her long absence, he had briefly dated girls, but dumped them soon after, and was excited to start up their relationship again. Buruma had tried, really, but every time they'd lie in bed (there was never sex, because Buruma was always strangely tired), she kept finding herself wondering where his tail went, or why his hair was surrounding his face, or why his body looked so much longer in the dark. After a while, they called it off, though her former boyfriend was always very supportive of her. Buruma appreciated it.
Radittsu, as it turned out, really was related to Goku. Upon seeing his younger brother, Radittsu had experienced a mild shock. After finally notifying everyone that he was the spitting image of their father, he began to call Goku a strange name, Kakarotto, and started to teach the younger about the ways of the Saiyajin. Buruma made him promise not to kill anybody. Gohan adored the spikey haired man, and even Chichi, though reluctant at first, welcomed him into the family. They were all currently living on Mount Paozu.
Buruma had to get used to cooking less food, because though her parents insisted she rest, she couldn't keep her hands still. There were always heaps of leftovers, and Buruma always had to call the Sons to eat up the extra. It took a load off Chichi's shoulders, so Buruma didn't mind. She continued to get up at promptly 6 AM, barricading herself in either her lab or in the kitchen. She just couldn't sit still anymore.
She wondered where Bejita was, though. Radittsu could never get ahold of him through the scouter, which meant that he was either dead, or his scouter had been crushed into pieces. Buruma thought it was the latter. Somehow, she just knew he was alive.
There was a soft rumbling in the sky, and Buruma blinked. She'd been reading Bejita's book for the 28th time when she heard it, but it was getting louder. It got so loud at some point that even her earphones wouldn't block it, but without warning, it suddenly stopped.
Buruma chalked it up as a jumbo jet landing in the West City airport.
She turned the volume up on her earphones again and resumed reading. When she looked up again, there was a face in her window.
Buruma screamed and fell off her window seat, her heart pounding a mile a minute. Bejita laughed shamelessly at her in his deep rumbling voice, shaking his head and flicking his tail in amusement. There was a red cloak about his shoulders, and a new red scouter on his face. His spandex suit was a solid black, and his armor was the sleekest of whites, with a large, red, anchor-like crest on the breastplate. There were rings on his right hand, stamped with the same insignia, and there was a sun medallion around his neck.
"You've become clumsy, Buruma," he snickered at her.
"I'll kill you, Bejita," she said.
She never did, of course. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in his musky scent, and he nuzzled her with his nose, a soft purr rumbling in his chest.
Chikyuu was annexed into the Saiyajin Empire. It was a useful military base, since it was so far out in what aliens would consider the middle of nowhere, but still had advanced technology provided by Capsule Corporation. Bejita put the Planet Trade Organization out of commission, freed some planets that he didn't care for, and kept the rest under his rule to use for their resources. After Yardrat-sei was annexed, Bejita, Radittsu, Nappa, and Goku learned a trick called Instant Tranmission. They got a kick out of scaring their mates with it, but troublesome though it was, it saved Buruma from flying hours just to see the new Bejita-sei, or her parents.
Despite her efforts to convince them otherwise, Buruma's parents were convinced that Bejita was absolutely wonderful. It didn't matter how rude or annoying or arrogant he was, he was still that "handsome young man" or "son". Bejita ate up all their food, and Buruma had to start cooking heaps again, but she started making the bots wash his clothes and clean the house.
A year later, Buruma and Bejita had a son. Buruma named him Torankusu Bejita Briefs. He was a beautiful baby.
WHEW! That took me freaking weeks. If you made it this far, I sincerely applaud you. Thanks for sticking with me! I love you guys.
Onna ~ Woman. Duh. Bejita calls her this often, though Baka often comes before it.
Baka ~ Idiot. Both Buruma and Bejita use this, though Buruma only calls Nappa by this name (at least, to anyone's face), as Bejita might kill her for such disrespect.
Otoko ~ Man. Buruma uses this term rarely, and like the word onna, it usually follows the word baka, though Bejita is normally unconscious when it's used.
Ouji-sama/no Ouji ~ Prince. Title used by Buruma and Bejita's subordinates.
Sabanto ~ slave. Bejita calls her this a few times in the story to be especially rude or biting.
Hiyayakko ~ chilled tofu. Buruma is seen eating this the first time she eats with Bejita instead of after him.
Mesu Jishi ~ lioness. This was a slave sold at the market where Bejita bought Buruma.
Jisu ~ if you're wondering, this is Jeice's Japanese name. Gramatically incorrect.
Bata ~ Burter's Japanese name. Also grammatically incorrect.
Rikumu ~ Recoome's Japanese name.
Taichou ~ Captain. Anybody who watches Bleach knows this. It is only used once in the story, when Buruma is talking to Ginyu.
Torankusu ~ Bejita and Buruma's son :)
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