Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dancing ❯ Part four ( Chapter 4 )

Dancing

 

Part Four

 

Disclaimer: Akira Toriyama owns DBZ not me.

 

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Vegeta stormed out of the gravity room only a little more composed than when he entered it. He grabbed a towel from the shower room, slung it angrily around his neck and walked briskly into the changing area. He wasn't surprised, on entering, to see Trunks escaping the role of CEO by loosening his tie and kicking off his Armani shoes. With his arms crossed, and brow furrowed, he leant back against the doorframe and waited for the honour of some attention.

 

Trunks stripped and clambered into his training gi long before he noticed his father's energy. When his senses finally did jump to the fore he disguised his shock well. Indeed, to an ordinary onlooker the scene would appear of no moment, but Vegeta was no ordinary observer. His sharp, predatory eyesight didn't miss the tightening of his son's spine or the slight rise of his shoulders as a lesser creature might - no matter how saddened he was to see it.

 

Both his children, he lamented, were getting distracted from their martial arts. The most infuriating thing, however, was that he couldn't blame either of them for it. Whereas he excelled in only one area, his children shone in numerous. They had other interests to take their minds away from their heritage, and it was with shrugging acceptance Vegeta admitted they were - however alien to his notions - worthwhile interests.

 

This, of course, wouldn't stop him riling either of them for their neglect.

 

“Instantly recognizing ki energy was one of the first lessons I taught you.” He shook his head. “Does anything I say actually sink in?”

 

Trunks merely saluted in an apology as he dug around in the bottom of his locker. “Things were a little hectic at work,” he explained. “I guess I forgot to switch back on.”

 

“You guess?” Vegeta snorted. “At work or at home, you should always keep your senses sharp and alert. What would happen if there were a powerful enemy close by, and you were shut off like that?”

 

“In that case you'd already be there, kicking shit and taking names. Besides, even if I did show up, you'd only tell me to butt out.”

 

“That's not the point.”

 

“Ah!” Trunks exclaimed. “It might not be the point, but it's a good one.”

 

“Well, well, well. Aren't we the smart arse today?” Vegeta drawled, pushing away from the doorframe and moving behind Trunks to his locker.

 

“Thanks… I try.”

 

“You know, I have a very particular and unique way of dealing with smart arses. Care to find out what it is?”

 

“No, thank you! My senses will be razor sharp from now on, I promise.”

 

“Glad to hear it.” Vegeta threw his sweaty gi into the laundry chute and pulled on a clean pair of trousers. “What are you doing home so early anyway?”

 

“I took a half day.”

 

Vegeta scowled as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. “You mean you're slacking off? What's your excuse this time?”

 

“I don't need one. You can ask Mum. She arranged it herself.”

 

“She did?”

 

“Sure! She didn't want me missing out on my workout because of tonight. Not with the `Worlds' just around the corner. Gohan isn't entering this year so she asked him to cover for me.” There was a pause. “You haven't forgotten about tonight, have you? Mum is really looking forward to you being there.”

 

Vegeta wasn't of a disposition to be uninformed on such a point. His daughter's newest performance was discussed on several occasions within his hearing, but since no one spoke directly to him about it, he assumed his wife was happy to go on her own. He never did take the trouble for these events if he could avoid it.

 

“No, I haven't forgotten.”

 

“Good. It's taking place at Satan Hall so you'll need to dig out your old tux.”

 

Vegeta sighed and rolled his eyes. “I said I hadn't forgotten, Trunks, that doesn't mean I'm actually going.”

 

“This is a one off performance, Dad, and quite possibly Bra's big break. The world's media will be watching. It really could catapult her dancing career. You have to come, and besides, my neck's on the line.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Because Mum's kind of relying on me to get you there. Come on… how bad can it be?”

 

Not wanting to hear any more on the subject, Vegeta turned away and made his way outside.

 

He wasn't overly averse to the idea of going to this one off performance for the King of Earth, but he knew it would remind him - remind him that his daughter's first and most passionate enjoyment came from dancing, not fighting. It would remind him of the inevitable: at some point in the future, she would not have the time for both. One of them would have to give way, and he would be a fool to believe there was any choice in the matter. Dancing was taking her in directions martial arts never would. He'd accepted as much, but . . . . No, he didn't want to go. He didn't want it rubbed in his face.

 

Trunks hadn't given up, however, and followed him outside. “You know how much it will mean to both Mum and Bra to have you there.”

 

“I'm not going.”

 

Keeping his father's fast pace, Trunks refused to let the subject drop. “Look, it's not really my scene either, but I'm still going,” he nudged Vegeta on the arm, “and that's saying something. I don't even have a date!”

 

“How scandalous! Why don't you go with one of the vultures from work? You know they're all just dying to get into your wallet.”

 

“I guess I could take one of them, but it would be nice to go with someone who actually wanted be with me and not my money.”

 

“Who are you trying to kid? You love the attention, so stop trying to convince me otherwise. It's the `I hired them for their excellent credentials' all over again.”

 

“Okay, okay, fair point, but it is starting to get a bit ridiculous. Would you believe one of Bra's school mates phoned today and asked me for a date!” He laughed out loud. “I might not have great values when it comes to women, but sheesh! That's pushing it.”

 

Vegeta stopped dead, his scowl pinched threateningly at the bridge of his nose.

 

“You know,” Trunks carried on, oblivious to the change in his father's mood. “I'm gonna have to talk to Bra about that. This is the third private number in a year. What's the point of it being private if Bra keeps giving it out like a free commodity?”

 

“What did you say to her?”

 

“What? Bra? I haven't spoken to her yet, she only just got back from school.”

 

“No. I mean her… friend. The one who called you?”

 

“Wha… are you kidding? She's like twelve!”

 

Vegeta looked up from under two heavy-set eyebrows. “Bra's in the last year of high school; that makes this girl sixteen.”

 

“Like that makes a difference.”

 

“I take it you said no then.”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

His voice lowered. “Deadly.”

 

“Well, of course I said no. I've got better things to do with my time than baby-sit Bra's friends. Besides, you're only quizzing me about this to take the heat off your own back. I won't get put off. You've got to come tonight. Bra will be devastated if you don't.”

 

Vegeta thought it over. There was an opportunity presenting itself somewhere in this conversation, an opportunity to get close to this bitch and assess her intentions more clearly. Vegeta mentally pounced on it. “Okay then,” he concluded. “How badly do you want me to go to this thing?”

 

“Badly! Mum will kill me if you're not there.”

 

“Very well then. I will go.”

 

“You will?” Trunks asked, kicking up his heels and keeping up with Vegeta as he resumed him path.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Whoa, hold up there. That was waaaay too easy. Why do I get the feeling there's more to this than you're letting on?”

 

“Superior parental instruction?”

 

“So I'm right. There is a condition - a stipulation?”

 

“Very good! See - keeping your senses alert and tuned into other people's energy really does make a difference.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Well what?”

 

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

 

“Very well… seeing as you are pressing the issue. I'm prepared to put myself through this ordeal, but only, and I mean only, if you call this girl back and ask her to be your date for the evening.”

 

Trunks looked like he was about to protest - and loudly. Vegeta put a hand up, silencing his son before he even had the chance to utter a word. “You should know better than anyone that this condition is non-negotiable, Trunks. Take it or leave it.”

 

A silent but intense standoff broke out between them, each trying to stare the other down. In the end, as always, Trunks was the first to look away. His shoulders sagged. “Fine.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I would love to know why you're pushing me into paedophilia, but I already know it's pointless to ask. Be ready at eight.”

 

Vegeta nodded and silently walked away. He was almost into the main house when he stopped. “Oh, and Trunks?” he called. “Make sure your interest in this girl is believable. It'll be worth the effort… I promise.”

 

“It had better be.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Bulma was in the hallway when Vegeta entered via the front door - a fact that almost managed to startle him. Technically his wife was in semi-retirement, but her genius still liked the indulgence of laboratory work. It wasn't strictly necessary for the survival of the company, but she would still spend a good portion of her time camped out in the comfort of invention. The empty cup of coffee in her hand, however, told him she was probably only out for a quick caffeine fix.

 

On seeing him, she automatically took a step out of her stride. “Are you feeling better now you've vented?” she asked, laying a hand on his chest.

 

Bulma was always this way with him. No matter what was going on in her world, she would automatically take a timeout to make sure he was okay. There were times, many years ago, when he vehemently protested against her interference. There were times he would physically run away from her compassion, but now Vegeta had come to accept it, appreciate it. In short, he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

He nodded.

 

He still wasn't entirely sure how he was going to rectify Bra's situation, but the groundwork was set in motion, and it certainly made him feel a little more temperate. In the long run, he believed that being privy to all this social nonsense and hobnobbing with some of the humans he most wished to avoid might well be worth the effort. Humiliating and humbling this girl would be a true pleasure. Indeed, if Bra weren't going to be on stage, Vegeta might even have looked forward to an event where he could bitch at the guests and have it accepted as normal behaviour.

 

“Trunks mentioned Bra was home,” he said, grabbing his wife's hand and giving it the briefest of squeezes before removing it from his chest.

 

“She's in her lab doing some homework. I didn't fancy following her. I don't want her knowing this morning was anything more than passing curiosity.” She paused and looked Vegeta straight in the eye. “Are you going to speak to her?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Be careful,” she warned. “This is a delicate subject and needs to be dealt with patiently. We don't want to make things even worse.”

 

“You think I'll make this worse?”

 

She sighed. “No. All I'm saying is use your smarts. I know you'll come up with something spectacular.” She winked. “I'm trusting you to give that blackmailing bitch a lesson she'll never forget.”

 

Vegeta chuckled lowly. “You have my word on it.” He left, walked towards the east staircase, but stopped and turned on the top step. “Bulma,” he called back, startling his wife. “I'll meet you at eight,” he said, “but be warned, if you're even a second late then I'm not going.”

 

She smiled at him, wordlessly repaying him for the effort, before he turned back and moved on.

 

The family laboratories were located below ground, within easy distance of the subterranean hangers. With real estate so expensive in the city, Capsule Corp. was built down rather than out. The whole area was a maze of interchanging stairs and corridors. Vegeta knew them all well. He walked confidently through all the twists and turns, masking his energy along the way. Bra's ki signature wasn't where it should be, and his curiosity demanded no less than utter secrecy.

 

He quickly found her in Bulma's lab - something he knew his wife wouldn't take kindly to. The lighting was dull and tinted a pale green; conducive to the comfort of his wife and the delicate work she performed. Years of staring at computer screens had taken their toll, and the green light was there to stop her from developing migraines when she worked.

 

Just as with his son, he stood in the doorway, but this time he watched - glad to have his presence undetected. Bra hovered over a drawer in Bulma's main workstation - a drawer he identified as containing her rarest capsules. Vegeta wasn't fully aware of what Bulma kept in there, but the sight of someone else tilling through the contents was definitely unheard of since the passing of Bulma's father. That Bra effortlessly opened the drawer when it was password-protected was only secondary to Vegeta. He was dying to know where this next piece of the puzzle would fit.

 

He watched, patient and unseen, until Bra came up with her prize. The object she held looked like any other capsule - at least in being the typical palm-size cylindrical shape. The gold case and circlet of sapphires cut into the top, however, told a different story. It looked more like jewellery than a functioning item. Fortunately the capsule was identifiable by an engraving on the side, giving proof to even Vegeta's haphazard knowledge that it held a structure of some kind.

 

Bra looked it over with wide and rapturous blue eyes before shaking herself out of the spell and stuffing the capsule in her jumper pocket. She was half way through resetting the security lock when Vegeta decided to make his presence known. Taking his eyes away from the offending part of her jumper, he nonchalantly put a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat.

 

Never in his life had he seen her jump so high without the aid of ki. Were it under different circumstances, Vegeta might have found it amusing.

 

“Daddy!” she gasped. “You scared me!”

 

“And why would I scare you, Bra? Let me take a guess… because you're snooping around in places you don't belong - just like an assassin?”

 

She looked to the floor. “Daddy… I know I shouldn't be here, but…!”

 

“Too right you shouldn't. What are you doing in your mother's desk?”

 

“Oh… um… well…” She looked across the smooth top and her eyes settled on the microscope there. “The lens broke in my microscope, so I just came in here to borrow a new one.”

 

The lies rolling off her tongue for Bulma that morning were bad enough, but the ones she threw so casually in his direction were positively repugnant. Only Bulma's words of caution stopped him calling her out there and then. “Your mother tells me you are doing homework, is that right?”

 

Bra nodded.

 

“It can wait. You haven't trained today.”

 

“But… the assignment… it's due in tomorrow.”

 

“I'm sure, in view of your commitments tonight, you'll be let off this once. It'll be a good warm up. Grab your staff and meet me outside in ten minutes.”

 

“But--”

 

“No arguments. Ten minutes.” He turned to leave.

 

“Daddy?” Bra called out to him. “You won't tell Mum I was down here, will you? You know she'll kill me.”

 

“Our secret,” he replied.

 

The lie was bitter on his tongue, but the end result was almost worth it. With eyes full of thankfulness, she came bounding over to him for a hug, and knowing he wouldn't appreciate it to continue for any length of time she quickly moved away.

 

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing passed him and out of the door.

 

Vegeta watched her go. Her pace was fast and irregular - a true sign of anxiety. Once she was out of sight he relaxed his hand, not sure if he was doing the right thing, but examining the gold and sapphire capsule nonetheless.

 

There was no choice in the matter. He needed to consult with Bulma. He had ten minutes, only ten minutes to find her, show her the capsule, and get outside to meet his daughter without causing suspicion. It wasn't good or sensible practice to fly indoors, but for this one instance he decided to make an exception.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

He entered the kitchen quickly and silently, appearing behind his wife and scaring her half to death. “Holy crap, Vegeta!” she panted, a hand over her heart. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

 

So long together and still he could take her by surprise, still he could scare her. He breathed in the emotion, letting it tang his canines, imprinting its familiar scent on his senses. Indescribable!

 

“As much as I want rid of you,” he murmured into her ear. “I would at least devise a more satisfying way of doing it than scaring your feeble human heart into the next dimension.” She shivered under his words. He looked to the clock. “We haven't got much time. Bra will be down in a few minutes.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the capsule. Dropping his arm over Bulma's shoulder, he dangled the trinket in front of her face. “What is this?”

 

“What the…!” She looked viciously over her shoulder, meeting Vegeta's gaze head on, and scowling dangerously. “Where did you get that?” she demanded, snatching it out of his hand.

 

“Bra took it from your desk. I caught her sifting through your things like a common little thief. She didn't realize I was watching and concealed this capsule in her clothing. When I made my presence known to her she tried to sneak it passed me. As you can see - she failed. Tell me what it is.”

 

“It's a capsule palace,” she explained, holding it tight to her chest - her voice cracking. “One of a kind. Dad… he designed it himself. It's a beautiful building, Vegeta, made entirely from white Italian marble. My parents got married there. It used to be a permanent structure on the Island we own near Kame house, but Dad was forced to capsulate it not long after. No one was willing to insure it de-capsulated.”

 

“Did you tell Bra about this palace?”

 

She let out a long breath and leant back into his chest. “Yes. Several times. Dad wanted me to get married there. Of course, seeing as you and I didn't do the whole traditional Japanese ceremony, it never happened. When he died I told Bra, whenever she finds the right man, I'd take it out to Bikini Island, and she could get married there - make it a family tradition in his honour.”

 

“I see.”

 

Bulma's arms twirled around one of his thick biceps. Under her emotion she squeezed it tightly, then as soon as the moment was passed, she patted it once and moved away.

 

“That doesn't explain why she tried to steal it,” he said after an appropriate pause. “But it certainly raises a few good questions. I think it's time we tell Bra we know what's going on. I want to know what this bitch is using against her. I can't act without knowing all the facts. I'm not exactly the most hands on father, but I know when my daughter is acting out of character. Whatever this girl has on Bra has to be real, and it has to be solid. Bra is too strong to be pulled down by anything trivial.”

 

“Yes,” Bulma agreed, picking up her coffee from the counter and taking a long sip. “If only there were someway we could get closer to this girl without her becoming suspicious?”

 

“Oh, that's already taken care of.”

 

Bulma raised an eyebrow. “It is?”

 

“Trunks is taking her as his date to the performance this evening.”

 

The mug slipped from Bulma's hands and smashed clumsily on the hard floor. “He's what!”

 

Vegeta chuckled. “You heard.”

 

“But how? Why? What for…? Vegeta,” she accused in a tone that he freely took pleasure from, “what are you scheming in that twisted little head of yours?”

 

“Now that would be telling!” He smirked. “Don't worry Bulma. You want this girl to get her comeuppance as much as I do, am I right?”

 

“Well yes, but---”

 

“Then trust me. I will make sure it all turns out well.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Vegeta shifted his ebony staff from hand to hand, sizing the weight and strength. He wasn't one to go easy, even in training, and although he had trained Bra with a bamboo staff to begin with, she was experienced enough now to use a weapon with real weight and power.

 

She was late, but he wasn't overly concerned. He could feel her energy, panicked and spiking all over the place. From his current direction he could tell she was walking back through the laboratories, probably looking for the capsule now returned to its rightful owner.

 

Five more minutes he waited before she finally made an appearance. The little actress came sauntering over to him as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She might be flustered and grasping on the inside, but anyone who couldn't sense otherwise would be completely fooled. She looked the picture of serenity with her bo staff tucked neatly behind her shoulder. This, lying, scheming, blackmailed, Bra even managed to greet him with a smile.

 

“You're late,” he snapped.

 

“Yeah, I lost a vital part of my homework. I had a look for it, but I can't find it anywhere.”

 

“I see. I wondered what you were doing back in the labs.”

 

She started at his revelation, but quickly shrugged it off to respectfully hand Vegeta her staff. “I better get on with my warm up.”

 

“Yes, you better.”

 

Having spent the majority of the day training, Vegeta didn't need to join her. He was left with the honour of watching, wondering just exactly how he was going to bring this subject up without making her run away from him.

 

In the end, however, it was decided for him.

 

“Hey Dad!” He looked over his shoulder to see Trunks walking up to them. “I just phoned her. It's all arranged.”

 

“Good. I suppose if I'm going to be seen with her all evening I should at least know this girl's name.”

 

“Heather.”

 

“Heather.” He snorted. “There are thousands of Heather's in this world. What's her surname?”

 

“Don't ask me. It's not like I care or anything,” Trunks defended. “Perhaps Bra can tell you her surname. I'm going to be late if I don't start training now.” He smiled at his sister. “See you tonight, Squirt. Do the world a favour and break a leg or two.”

 

Bra didn't reply, she was staring off in a little world of her own. “What's up with her?” Trunks asked his father, waving a hand in front of her face.

 

“Bra and I need to have a little talk,” he said, catching his daughter's eye. “Go train, Trunks. I'll deal with this.”

 

“Okaaay.”

 

Vegeta watched his son walk back to the gravity room, then drew his attention back to where it really needed to be. “Bra!” he called, but she didn't respond. “Bra!”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Are you ready?” he asked, and threw her a staff.

 

She caught it effortlessly. “Oh… yeah. Sorry. Are we going to start with spinning?”

 

“No. We'll hop right into sparring, and then if we have enough time we'll go through the forms.”

 

She nodded. They both bowed, and then spinning the staffs they circled each other. This time, Vegeta was on the offensive, both physically and verbally. His staff initiated the first strike down, and Bra's defended.

 

“What's this girl's surname?” he asked, pushing her forcefully back.

 

Losing balance, Bra managed to tuck into a rolling back break-fall. Vegeta's next strike came in almost immediately. She scampered away, only to be met with a fresh swipe towards her side. She blocked again - her staff vertical and protecting her exposed ribs.

 

“How should I know?”

 

Vegeta spun away, making a direct strike for the other side. Again, his daughter read it perfectly and defended in the opposite direction. Their staffs met in the middle, neither one finding an advantage.

 

“Trunks tells me she's a school friend of yours. Is that right?”

 

“Oh,” she said, as Vegeta pushed her away. “That Heather! I think it's De Laney… De Lorey… something like that. I don't really know her all that well.” She jumped as his staff swung in to sweep her ankles.

 

Having missed, Vegeta stood, swirling the staff at head height. Bra ducked, but Vegeta was prepared. He teleported behind her and kicked her gently from behind, forcing her over and onto her forearms. She turned onto her back, rolling away from his strikes as they honed in on her exposed position.

 

“Then tell me,” he said, jumping into attack once more. “How long has this bitch been blackmailing you?”

 

This time there was no defence, no block to his strike. Her body went stiff with shock. Fortunately Vegeta had accounted for her reaction, and he held back just at the last. His staff stopped a millimetre away from her forehead. Their eyes locked and Bra didn't even flinch. Tears started to well in her eyes and after a significant amount of time, Vegeta threw his staff clean away.

 

He moved back and offered her a hand. She didn't take it. Instead she pushed herself up, until the tears wouldn't be held back anymore. With the last of her fight she barrelled forward into him, almost knocking him over.

 

In an instant the ice-queen was melted and grabbing his chest - bunching his t-shirt she cried down it. “Oh Daddy! It's horrible!”

 

Feeling distinctly awkward, Vegeta continued to just stare down at her, unsure what to do next. To his relief it appeared he had done enough. She sobbed a few more times, and hiccupped in between. “She knows… oh god Daddy! She knows!”

 

 

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A/N -This was a fun chapter to write - strange for me when so much of it was conversation. I usually find these chapters a real headache.

 

I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think.

 

Special thanks go to LisaB for her excellent beta-ing work.