Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fathoming Love ❯ Chapter 24 ( Chapter 24 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

“ “Vegeta please!” Bulma whined in her most “fingernails-on-chalkboard” way. “Daddy! Make him go!”

“ “Now honey, you shouldn’t make Vegeta do anything he doesn’t want to. If he says he doesn’t want to go to the opera tonight, then you have no right to make him.”

“ “THE HELL I DON’T!” she screamed at me. “I only feed him, shelter him, PAY FOR HIM! Ohhh nooo I have no right to ask anything BACK for that! What was I thinking?!”
“ “My thoughts precisely,” I growled, sitting at the table and trying my best to ignore this exchange, however involved I was.

“Apparently, rather than give up, she simply decided to try an even deadlier method of getting what she wanted. Yes, yes, indeed, her very own secret weapon that rarely ever saw the light of day. She decided to be nice.

“ “Vegeta, please,” She said, scooting her chair over to me. “Yamcha won’t take me, he has a game tonight. It wouldn’t be the same to take mom or dad and it’s my FAVORITE FAVORITE opera and it’s only playing for ONE measly night! ONE MEASLY NIGHT! Please, I promise you’ll like it! But I really really need a date for it!”

“ “Uhh..” I said, holding up my finger. “Number one, I’d never be your date. Number two, I don’t DO operas and number three…. Wait, who gives a shit, I don’t need a number three. I said no!”

“She looked on the verge of killing me, watching me take a big bite of my food, purposely trying to ignore how close she was to me. Her hand that had been resting on my thigh began to clench and her nails were starting to drive into my leg.

“ “Besides,” I murmured, still chewing my huge bite. “Surely you could find just some random guy. With your looks, I don’t imagine it’d be much of a challenge.”

“I nearly choked when I realized what I’d said and even though it was true, it was CERTAINLY too nice of a comment to use on her. My eyes must have been saucers, because hers and her father’s totally were, both staring at me like I’d grown a ball-sack on my chin.

“ “Vegeta, was that a … compliment?” Bulma asked, a huge grin plastering itself to her face.

“ “Absolutely NOT!” I spat, insulted and nearly choking on my food. “I simply meant by HUMAN standards you aren’t half bad. MY STANDARDS, I’d rather hump cattle.”

“ “Language!” Her father huffed.

“ “Sure, Vegeta.” Bulma smiled at me, completely ignoring her father.

“ “Besides,” I added snobbily. “I’m not going and that’s final.”

“As I climbed to my feet, completely prepared to leave the room and retire to my own, Bulma did something I hadn’t quite expected she’d ever do despite her disparity. She fell down to her knees, wrapped her arms around my legs (nearly tripping me may I add) and started begging like a child.

“ “Vegeta please please please!” She was bawling. “I’ll buy you a nice new suit! And and… and you can eat as much as you want! And I’ll take you out afterwards and everything I promise! Just please take me to opera! Please!”

“I gave her the best “you’re a complete ass” look I could plaster to my face.

“ “Hell no, I won’t go.” I rhymed, staring down at her.

“She glared up at me before letting a wicked “Grinch” smirk creep across her features.

“ “I didn’t want to resort to this Vegeta,” She smiled sweetly. “but since you leave me no other choice……” She took a huge breath. “……… I’M GOING TO TELL THE ENTIRE WORLD THAT YOU THINK I’M PRETTY! I’M GOING TO CALL ALL THE BOYS AND TELL THEM THAT YOU THINK I’M COMPLETELY UNCONTROLLABLY GORGEOUS AN-..”

“I covered her mouth quickly, her enormous booming voice still struggling to be heard around my palm.

“ “FINE!” I hissed. “But would you shut up!? I’ll go already! CHRIST!”

“ “I knew you’d see things my way,” she smiled innocently.”

“I’m beginning to like this Bulma,” I laughed. “She seems to be the only one in history that could ever really control you and she didn’t need super strength to do it.”

“Have you ever heard Bulma’s voice?” He asked. “If THAT’S not super strength, I don’t know WHAT is. But yes, she had a very influential talent for getting me to do whatever she wanted. But you know what I’m thinking my problem is now? You’ve heard dialogue from her, but you don’t truly know who she was or more importantly, who she was on the inside. Let me just take a moment to explain Bulma Briefs to you, in the way that I imagine very few people truly knew her.

“Bulma was driven from childhood, but not intended for the same things that everyone else wanted. Her entire life she’d had riches, glory, popularity and all out wealth that was substantial enough to prepare the good life for her great great great great grandchildren themselves. She’d been worshipped as a teen idol on magazines, the perfect picture of beauty and wealth, the daughter to the most lucrative company in the country. At a very young age, she’d had suitors and men who basically intended to marry her as soon as she was legal.

“She never had to earn love or attention or approval. Her very birth right demanded it. And from an even younger age than most people would think, she realized very quickly that she had to destroy her name.

“ “What was the point in being loved and adored for some image that people had created of you in their minds? I was 13 for God’s sake and on the cover of the highest priced magazines. Like I’d earned it? Like I’d done some great thing or achieved some amazing status all on my own? No. Because I was fucking born.” She’d once said.

“Along with the unearned glory and status of her name, she also received the stereotypical “rich girl” image. Like she’d never felt pain. Like she’d never undergone hardships like everyone else. That she was spoiled and shallow and an empty shell of a person simply because she’d been born into a family.

“ “How was I to find who I truly was,” she said one day. “when every magazine and television broadcast was telling me who and what I was in THEIR opinion? One day, I could either be a fashion icon, the next I could be a vicious, out of control wild child, the next day I could be in love with such and such or even ‘betrothed” to someone I’d never even met.”

“So when she was very young, Bulma set off on her own to find who she really was, saying good bye to the idol of magazines, and beginning to explore the person she was inside. She toured the entire world on her own, despite the wishes of her concerned parents, and still realized that seeing things with your eyes was much easier than seeing what was behind them. She first had to rid her mind of the image she’d allowed herself to be.

“While exploring an area of Venezuela, Bulma (though very young still) had fallen in love (“puppy love” as she calls it now) with a handsome young man. She told me his name once, though I couldn’t for the life of me remember now. It wasn’t even a story at the time that I’d wanted to hear but I’m glad that I at least partially listened now.

“But as I was saying, she fell in love with a dark skinned, dark eyed Venezuela boy who had shown her the world, or at least, that’s what she liked to call it. He would meet her daily outside of his village home and they would explore deserted areas and jungles together. He could name the names of every bird and could tell you where to find the rarest of flowers, knowing precisely where they would grow. But she refused always to tell him her name, making batched excuses daily for why she couldn’t. For even in a place this remote, it was unlikely that her name would go unrecognized.

“She was only 14 when she had lost her virginity to him and though she’d never asked it, imagined that he’d probably only been about 17 at the time as well. They would meet during the day and make love beneath the wild trees, staring up at the sunlight afterwards. He would tell her all about his life and his family, and they would simply lie there together for hours. But his favorite thing to talk about was flowers because he could name any kind.

“She stayed there with him for 7 months, exploring her sexuality (something I’m not going to elaborate on) and in the process, with him, finding herself. She wasn’t a model on TV, or a role model for girls her age. She didn’t even have a name anymore. She was just a girl, falling in love with a boy in a beautiful place. One person in a world of billions. It felt good to be small.

“One day, he had taken her through miles and miles of jungle, using his machete to hack their way to a gorgeous waterfall, where he had pointed out hundreds of amazing flowers, calling them by name. But one flower in particular, he had never seen and it was but one flower on a huge weed, growing at the very top of the waterfall. It was a very light blue and because it matched her eyes and hair perfectly, he had asked her to name it after herself.

“So because she was young and foolish and desperately in love, she had told him her name and from that day forth, that single, lonely flower was named Bulma. But in the process of naming something so beautiful, she had lost her love. Immediately after their sexual escapades, he had made some excuse to go home. Blindly, she had believed him, until camera crews and helicopters and the media news-crews had stood outside her door the very next morning.

“ “Bulma Briefs, why did you run away from home?” “Is it true that you’re pregnant?” “How about the rumor that you’re engaged? Is it legal in this country?”

“In a single instant, she had turned towards the boy she’d fallen in love with, a news caster giving him some sort of money and she’d realized that although she had tried to escape her name, it would always catch up to her somehow.

“She had left that very day and had never seen that boy again. But before she went, in a tear drenched journey, she had made her way through the woods, hiking up the dangerous slope of the waterfall, and picking the lone little flower before dashing it to the rocky stones beneath and grinding it in with her foot. And so, the flower named Bulma was not seen in those parts ever again.

“Bulma was a passionate person. She wasn’t someone that could drift through life wondering what this place or that place was like or if she’d enjoy doing this or that. She would FIND OUT. She was fearlessly adventurous and had skydived in the most perilous places on the globe. She’d seen things that people spent their entire lives trying to find and learned ancient secrets that she would never reveal even to me.

“She learned forms of fighting from remote villages in China or Japan. She learned beautiful ways of dancing and dress in India. She learned to run like the cheetah from tribes deep in Africa, how to hunt with the American Indians, how to build shelter from the Eskimos and most certainly, how to drink with the Irish. Some days, she could put me to shame when we’d have our little drinking games and I always hated being the one to wake up first and realize, I’d also been the first one to fall off my chair the night before.

“She knew many many dialects and realized very quickly that knowledge WAS power. Often the power to stay alive if she found herself in sticky situations. She found VERY quickly that if she could learn the art of healing, she was welcomed into almost any tribe. So she set her mind to studying medicine, American or other forms and within a year could treat many of the illnesses and even epidemics that plagued parts of the world that she visited.

“When she would leave a certain area, the people would often cry or give her gifts. One particularly impressed clan had refused to let her leave, tying her to a post in the main household. By the gift of moonlight, she had managed to escape with her life, avoiding snapping hyenas in the process.

“She could cure sick children, deliver babies and remove bullet wounds and even arrows. In some parts of Africa, they had called her a term that basically meant medicine woman, or also, good healer. They thought she was a witch doctor in some areas and were often fearful or even savage towards her. But through medicine and helping people, despite their ungratefulness or even treachery, she found herself more and more.

“ “Finding who I was had nothing to do with soul searching in my case.” She told me. “It was more the process of finding my strengths and using them. By helping people, well, that was the quickest way to self discovery. And more importantly, that was the quickest way to self acceptance.”

“Eventually, it was her who had discovered the secret of the dragon balls, a dying whisper from an old tribe leader who she had been unable to save due to the limits of old age. He had told her very kindly what a blessing she had been to the people, how she had saved the life of his eldest daughter who had been bitten by a wild cat and cured his young wife of her sickness during childbirth. And so in return for her graciousness, he gave her the secret of the dragon balls, something that he had never revealed to anyone in his own tribe.

“ “You must make a selfish wish,” He had chuckled, cradling the top of her head. “You must wish for a companion in your travelings with passion just like you, a heart just as strong and a mind just as equal. A real prince!” he had laughed. “He must be beautiful and he must be wise and he must also treat you like the Goddess Aphrodite. Because you have restored life to this village, he must also restore life to your heart and love to your spirit.”

“Later on in life, she had laughed, hugging me and telling me that it would have been a waste of a wish since the old man had ended up hand delivering a prince with just those qualities anyways.

“But she had set off just the same with that very goal of creating the ideal companion to assist her mentally, physically and emotionally. Loneliness had spurned her on and when she eventually found the first dragon ball, it seemed to slowly melt away as the next days came and went.

“It was in these months that she searched that she discovered Kakarot as a little boy, lost and utterly alone in the forest. Together, they had set out to find these dragon balls and in the process, found a very lasting friendship that has since never really burnt out, despite my many attempts to kill him.

“Also, much to my dismay and royal pissed-off-ness, she met a “handsome desert bandit”, her version of saying “a dirty, poor schmoe who stole when his pathetic self could pull it off over a big enough idiot”. I certainly wasn’t impressed with this part and honestly refused to listen to most of it when she’d gone over it, but apparently, it had been some sort of BLIND…….. BLIND……. BLIND “love” at first sight!”

“I’m sensing some animosity Vegeta,” I cracked.

“Oh… yeah, you caught onto that huh?” he smiled, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Soooo, while she called it “love”, I’m thinking that the heat had most definitely gotten to her at that point and must have made her delirious for a few years after. Well, that’s the story I’m sticking with anyways.

“So, long, boring, overly drawn out wannabe romance story cut short, they got together, yada yada, there’s where I picked up the scene. And it’s a good thing too since the male members of the cast where a little unimpressive in the looks department up to that point if you get what I mean.”

“You never stop do you?” I giggled.

“Not unless they tell me to,” he winked. “and believe me, they NEVER tell me to. Where was I then?”

He shook his head, struggling to recall where the conversation had first started and I noticed that he seemed to be doing this more and more. Sometimes fading out, his mind escaping him or his memory failing for a few moments. While it seemed to irritate him, he also appeared not to be surprised or disappointed by it. Like he had expected this reaction or something.

“Umm…” he glared at nothing. “Tazial, remind me. Where was I going with all this?”

“Uhhh… “ I stammered. “Uhh you had been at first telling me how Bulma had wanted you to go to the opera with her and how she had managed to get you to agree.”

“Oh oh yes,” He nodded, blinking hard. “yes, I remember that. We’d been sitting at the table when she’d said- ..”

“Vegeta, you already told me that part.”

“I did?” He honestly seemed confused. “I told you that part….” He whispered. “And the part where she got on her knees and begged me?”

“Yes, that part too,” I said in a concerned voice. “Vegeta, are you feeling alright? You’re looking a tad pale. Would you like me to set up an appointment with the physician? I’m sure we could get you in right away if-”

“No no no,” he growled, waving me away with his hand. “nothing like that. Stupid stupid idea.”

He paused for a few minutes, just sitting there and collecting his thoughts. I stared at his fingers, as he tapped them irritably on the top of the table. They were so thin, so red at the knuckles and almost blotchy or something. His eyebrows were drawn together very tightly and he almost looked in pain. I got up quickly, planning on seeking a physician when he looked up, his color back to normal (or at least closely) and his attitude in check.

“Don’t worry so much Tazial,” he smiled, though I could tell his heart was certainly not in it and he seemed almost out of breath. “I’m perfectly fine. Just old age I guess.”

I had to laugh at that comment. Old age… yeah, right. This kid was barely pushing 30 at my calculations.

“I’m tired doc,” he sighed. “We spent a good day of it, why not pick up where we left off tomorrow? I’m quite honestly bushed and my mind isn’t as it used to be.”

I nodded, gathering my things.

“You’re sure you’re alright then?” I asked, putting my hand on his forehead instinctually. I quickly gathered it back, realizing that it was exactly the same thing I would do when my son had been sick. Vegeta didn’t seem to mind at all, looking up at me almost wearily. It was the first time I’d actually seen him resemble weakness. It was the first time I saw him as a normal man, almost like a human. Except, he wasn’t human and something told me that he was becoming sick.

“I told you,” he brushed me off. “I’m tired. Come back tomorrow, same time. Bring more tape.”

Despite his nonchalant attitude, the feeling stuck with me the entire car ride home.