Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Confessions Of A Believer: II ❯ Homesick ( Chapter 8 )

The weeks passed and I watched, from a distance, my son grow stronger and faster under Vegeta's tough-love-type of guidance. I hated watching him get hurt and a few times I embarraced him with my attentions after a particularly rough day of sparring with his father.

I was stirring the soup Mrs. Briefs had put on the stove, the scent of cloves and other spices I couldn't name wafted up from the pan, making my mouth water. I heard voices and the front door open and close. A moment later there was water running upstairs and Chikara joined me in the kitchen, pulling himself up onto a stool and grinning at the back of my head.

"Hey, Mom, guess what?" He said happily, "Dad says I'm better than I was last week! He says he may even start to teach me some of his ki attacks next!"

"That's nice, Swee..." I turned around, froze and nearly screamed. His face was so battered and bloodly it hardly looked like a face, just a mishappen lump of flesh with fiery dark hair shooting up all around. Blood and mud were mingled and I saw his arms, too, had several cuts and bruises. His little dark blue gi was ripped so badly I knew there would be no saving it. "Oh, my god, Chikara! Look at you!"

"I know!" The boy wagged his tail, his eyes bright, then he seemed to remember himself and scowled at me from across the table, "I'm a warrior, Mom, and warriors don't whine about a little pain."

"Your not a warrior, your a little boy!" I cried, rushing to wet a wash cloth and dab the blood from his face, He squirmed, "Hold still!"

"Mom!" Chikara whined, trying to pull away, I held him down and cleaned his wounds, dragging him into the bathroom for the antiseptic ointment, "Stop it! Ow! That stings!"

"Hold still, Chikara," I said, rubbing more ointment over the cuts on his arm, "Your only making this worse!"

"What's going on in here?" I heard Vegeta's voice from outside the bathroom. He had just gotten out of the shower, the one upstairs near his and Bulma's room, and had a small white towel draped around his waist. His muscular body was sleek with water and some left over soap suds clung to his chest and hair.

I paused, one hand holding the boy's upper arm, a rare area of skin that hadn't been damaged, with a bottle of peroxide in the other. Vegeta took one look at his son on the ground, struggling to get away from me and my limited nursing skills and burst out laughing.

"Dad!" Chikara screamed, "She's trying to kill me!"

"Vegeta," I said, panting from my effort at trying hold a half-saiyan child down when he doesn't want to be held down, "You could help me instead of standing there laughing, you know!"

"He doesn't need that gunk on his face, Ami," Vegeta said, once he'd gotten control of himself, "He's a saiyan, he's tough. He'll live."

"I know how much stock you saiyans put in training and being strong and all that," I said, talking without really thinking, my mind actually on trying to clean as many of my son's cuts so that they didn't get infected as I could reach, "But don't you think this a bit much? He's still just a little boy, after all..." Before I could finish my sentence, I was jerked away from the boy, who scrambled to his feet and ran down the hall and to the room he had next to mine.

Vegeta spun me around to face him, his dark brows drew down like thunderclouds, his face so close I could smell the toothpaste he'd just used. "Don't ever tell me how to train my son, woman. I'll decide what's too much, not you. Understand?"

When I didn't say anything for a minute, he squeezed my arm tigher and I winced, nodding. "I understand."

"Good." He released me and walked away, down the hall, but before he went, he said; "He's a tough kid."

Sitting down on the lowered toilet seat, my heart pounding in my chest, I thought; I want to go home.

Bulma found me a moment later, still shaken, staring at the towel rack. She came inside and closed the door. I looked up at her as she took my arm, ran her fingers over the marks left by her husband's hand and sighed. "You really need to learn when to keep quiet around him, Ami." She turned around and began to work on her makeup, "I learned a long time ago that there are just some things you don't say around or to Vegeta."

I didn't say anything and she went on, brushing her hair and gazing at herself in the mirror through large, azure eyes, "Our first year together was hell, well, after the sex, I mean", She turned around and, before I could do anything, took my face in her hands and said to me, "Just try to watch what you say around him, Okay?"

"Um, okay..." I said and she let go of my face to go back to her own. "A-are you going somewhere?"

"Oh, Didn't I tell you?" Bulma said, smiling at me, there were wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes but other than that she didn't look half her age, "Master Roshi is throwing a party and we've all been invited!"

"Everyone but me, you mean." I said, and she raised her eyebrows into her hairline, "That's okay...I don't mind..." I really didn't, I would love a chance to be left here alone to snoop around...I know, that sounds bad, but I couldn't help it. Don't tell me if the chance ever came for you that you wouldn't go snooping around in your favorite anime character's belongings to learn more about them? That's what I thought!

But, Bulma said; "Oh, don't worry. Your going too. For some reason Vegeta doesn't want you here alone. I don't know why he doesn't just send you back where you came from, I mean, it's not like Chikara needs you now or anything..."

Hurt, I turned away and stood up, brushing past her and towards the room they had given me to use. It was a small room, about the smallest in the dome-shaped house. It had a full-sized bed that took up most of the room, a little space between the bed and the wall and over the bed there was a button set into the wall. If I pressed the button a shelf would come out of the wall over my bed, holding the clothing Bulma had given me to wear.

I couldn't fit into her pants, since her waistline was smaller than mine, but tops and bras I could share with her. She took me shopping a few days after I'd arrived, I think it was really more an excuse for her to go shopping than for me, but I didn't complain. I wasn't buying and she was rich, after all.

Sitting down on the bed, it had a red and blue spread, rather pretty, if a bit bright, I dug under my pillow until I found my drawing pad and pencils and began to sketch. I didn't know what I was drawing, really. I found it rather funny that all I used to draw for months on end were Dragonball Z characters, mostly Piccolo for my friend Vicky, and here I was, in thier world. Maybe I should draw myself in my world, I thought only half-joking.

In the end, I ended up sketching a bunch of different pictures of Vegeta and Chikara engaging in thier training. I wasn't a bad artist, but I wasn't great either. I was mediocre, but, it seems, I've been drawing since I was very little and I couldn't imagine my life without it, somehow, being a part of it. I would say the same goes for my writing, but then you would probably think that I am just making this all up and that it didn't really happen. So, I will keep quiet about my writing for now. I really didn't want to go to any stupid party. I didn't feel like mingling. Ugh, I hated social gatherings. I almost always ended up standing next to the wall or off in a corner somewhere, bored stiff.

Getting dressed, I chose to wear a pair of light blue jeans and a purple tank-top with a pretty lacy trim around the cuffs and hem, matching purple socks and my sketchers. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail on the top of my head so that the ends only reached the middle of my back. But, due to my bangs being down to my chin, when I had it pulled up and back in such a way I had all these locks of hair standing up around the ponytail. I shrugged, not caring, and put a white sweater on over my top, waiting in the living room until it was time to go.

Vegeta appeared, dressed in a very nice pair of black slacks and gray shirt. He smelled clean and I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think he even had on deodrant. He scowled over at me and stood next to the front door, waiting for Bulma. Chikara was asleep in bed, having been too tired to go with us, and Mr and Mrs. Briefs were staying with him. I really did not understand why I had to go if they were staying. I didn't even care that I was going to meet more characters from my favorite anime.

"What's this party for anyway?" I asked Vegeta while we waited for his horribly slow wife to finally come down stairs so we could go.

"Someone's birthday, I think," Vegeta said, sighing over-dramtically, he yelled; "Get a move on, woman!"

I jumped a little in my seat at his sudden shouting, but said; "Who's?"

"I don't know, do I look like I keep track of everyone's birthdays?" He snapped, crossing and uncrossing his arms in his impatience.

"Okay everyone!" Bulma sang as she came down the stairs, "I'm ready! Let's go!"

I heard Vegeta growl his annoyance at such foolishness, but he linked his arm through Bulma's and I followed behind, feeling much like someone's useless little pet who couldn't take care of herself. I never thought I'd say this, but I was getting sick of this place. I missed Shawn, my sister, Gavin, my cats and Clover, my dog. As Vegeta grabbed me with one arm and Bulma with the other and flew into the sky, I thought about all those people I'd left at home, in my own world; Vicky and Chris, the rest of the guys from the gaming group, Vicky's sister Billie, I thought of them and missed them all. My chest hurt from my homesickness.

We touched down on a sandy beach and I stumbled as Vegeta let me go, falling onto my knees on the sand. Picking myself up, I saw Bulma rush off towards the party, the sequened blue dress she wore flashing in the hanging paper lanturns set up around Kame House. Vegeta ignored me and followed Bulma, though at a slower rate. I heard the sound of music and laughter coming from within and soon made my own entrance. The party, it turned out, wasn't a very large one. There were a few Dragonball Z people I recognized, some I did not and a few people who were animals all milling around, drinking punch and dancing. True to myself, I wandered over near the wall to watch, wishing I were home instead of here.

My eyes blinked when I saw a familar flash of light brown and white and purple. I smiled slightly when I caught sight of Cyndi dancing with Freeza, both of them laughing like loons as he twirled her around and dipped her. I recalled in her story, he had taught her a few dance moves to Stevie Nicks' music. Reading about it doesn't do them justice, I noticed, they really were light on thier feet.

Piccolo was standing off to the side, much like I was, watching them, his face expressionless but I knew what they had all been through together, he, Cyndi, Freeza and Vegeta, so I knew that face was a mask revealing other, deeper emotions. I saw Bulma pulling Vegeta out to dance with him, ignoring his protests. She got him to stay there for exactly five seconds before he pushed her away and stomped outside muttering something about baka females and parties.

I followed him outside.

"Vegeta?" I asked, coming up behind him, maybe if I told him how I was feeling he'd let me go home now, now that Chikara wasn't a baby anymore. I still wanted to see him, of course, I was his mother, but I had another life, away from this one, "I think it's time for me to back to my own world now..."

He turned around, black eyes catching the light from the lanturns, arms at his sides. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" I cried, angry, "Why are you keeping me here! What purpose do I serve? Let me go home, Vegeta, please!"

"Don't ask stupid questions." He said, and before I could start crying or yelling, he just sped off into the air, disappearing against the darkness of the night sky. I was left alone on the beach, the waves lapping at the edges of my shoes, glaring upwards towards where I'd last seen him. Frustrated and angry, I sat down on a dry patch of sand and began yanking up stalks of grass furiously, not caring that they left paper-like cuts in the skin of my palms that stung horribly.

"It wasn't a stupid question!" I yelled up at the sky, knowing he was out of hearing range by now.