Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Darkened Ship ❯ Chapter 8

Hold on it gets better than you know

Your days
You say they're way too long
And your nights
You can't sleep at all
Hold on
And you're not sure what you're waiting for
But you don't want to no more
And you're not sure what you're looking for
But you don't want to no more

But we all bleed the same way as you do
And we all have the same things to go through

Hold on if you feel like letting go
Hold on it gets better than you know
Don't stop looking, you're one step closer
Don't stop searching, it's not over
Hold on

What are you looking for?
What are you waiting for?
Do you know what you're doing to me?
Go ahead
What are you waiting for?

Hold on if you feel like letting go
Hold on it gets better than you know
Don't stop looking, you're one step closer
Don't stop searching, it's not over
Hold on if you feel like letting go
Hold on it gets better than you know
Hold on

Bulma looks up as Yamcha enters her room, his cracked refection in her broken mirror. She returns to brushing her long, azure locks.

“I know that you have been sad, and I don't pretend to understand why.” She ignores him, until he pulls out a large, velvet jewelry box. Her cerulean eyes grow large as she takes the box, her body and emotions numb.

 

This world
This world is cold

 

“I intended to save this until the engagement galas next week, but I though that I would give it as a reminder of my feelings.” Bulma opens the box, her heard pumping in her chest, panic rising in her lungs. Inside the box, sitting in silk is a necklace, the necklace that anyone would fall in love with. It is huge… a malevolent blue stone glittering with an infinity of scalpel-like inner reflections.

 

But you don't
You don't have to go

 

“My Kami, Yamcha,” she gasps in fear and astonishment. “Is it a-”

 

“Diamond,” he finishes for her. “Yes, it is. Fifty-six carats to be accurate.” He takes the large necklace and places it around her throat. Bulma's eyes only flicker her fear at the confinement of the heavy diamond as he turns her to the mirror, his dark eyes staring at her, making her feel even more claustrophobic.

 

You're feeling sad, you're feeling lonely
And no one seems to care

 

“It was worn by Louis the Sixteenth. They call it Le Coeur la Mer, the--”

“The Heart of the Ocean,” Bulma said, her voice soft. “Yamcha, it's… it's so overpowering.” He gazes at them in the glass, his eyes darkening.

“We are royalty and that is what we are.” He fingers her necklace, his cold eyes unguarded as he touches the cold stone. His tanned fingers touch her neck as his lips caress her throat. “There is nothing that I wouldn't- couldn't give you,” he whispers, his breath warming her already flushed skin. “There is nothing that I would deny you if you would not deny me one thing that I wish.” Bulma looks at him, her eyes dark. “Open your heart to me, Bulma.”

 

The next day, Saturday, I remember thinking how the sunlight felt.

 

The next day, Saturday, I remember thinking how the sunlight felt.

Bulma walks proudly, with purpose into the third class part of the ship, her eyes darting around her for the one familiar face. The steerage men on the deck stop what they are doing to stop and stare at the first class girl that seems to have wandered onto their part of the ship. She walks into the third class general room. This room is start in comparison to the first class glamour; its main item is benches spread across the small room full of unlearned and low class occupants, their voices loud and boisterous. Kids run between benches, mothers with their infants while men play chess. Old women yell and old men resting while girls do needlepoint and read dime novels. Vegeta is sitting in the corner with Radditz; both are talking in low voices while a young, blonde haired girl runs around them in a circle. Radditz is struggling to get a conversation with a young Japanese girl, Launch, sitting with her family across the room.

“No Japanese? Some English?” the dark haired girl shakes her head.

 

You're mother's gone and your father hits you
This pain you cannot bear

But we all bleed the same way as you do

 

“Iie, iie. Japanese. Only.” Launch's navy eye is caught by something causing Radditz to look. Vegeta notices that the room has gotten quiet and looks to where everyone is looking. Bulma stands before him in a white gown, a blue sash tied tight around her small waist. Her azure hair is loose; the straight locks hanging loose around her frame. All the low class passengers stare openly at the seemingly rich child. Some look in anger, resentment, while others look in awe and want. She looks at him, a smile gracing her red lips. He rises as she comes to him.

“Hello, Vegeta,” she says, her small voice flooring Radditz and Oolong who sit nearby. It is like Cinderella getting the prince.

“Hello,” he says, his dark eyes never leaving her pale face. She looks around.

“Ummm… Can I speak to you alone.” Vegeta smirked.

“Uh, yes. After you.” He motions her forward before following behind her. He glances once over his shoulder, one dark brow raised as he leaves. The room is left in shock as to what just occurred in the third class lounge.

 

Boat Deck

And we all have the same things to go through

Hold on if you feel like letting go

 

Vegeta and Bulma walk side by side, their appearances mismatched as they pass people reading and other couples out just enjoying the nice morning. They are both awkward, but for different reasons.

“Do you have a name? You know mine, but I don't know yours.”

“Bulma. Bulma Bra Briefs.”

“That is quite an interesting name,” he says with a chuckle. There is a tense pause as both think of other things to talk about. They are from different worlds it seems and there is a gap in what they know and don't about the other's world.

“Mr. Ouji, I--”

“Vegeta.”

“Vegeta,” she says, the name tingles on her tongue. “I feel like such an idiot.” She looks down at her feet before looking up at him. “It took me all morning to get the courage to come and face you after what… happened last night.”

“Well, here you are.”

“Here I am… I- I want to thank you for last light. Not just for pulling me back, but for your tact.”

“You're welcome, Bulma.” Suddenly her nervousness gets the better of her and in a squeaky voice she looks at him, her face flushed.

“Look, I know what you must be thinking right now. Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?”

“I wasn't thinking that at all. What I was thinking was… what could have hurt this girl so badly that she thought that she had no other way out.”