Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Frozen Tears ❯ Who wants to be ordinary, in a crazy mixed up world? ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: DBZ isn't mine, neither are the song lyrics I am borrowing from various songs as chapter titles.

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Was it the blue wire, or the green wire? Bulma furrowed her brow, and sighed. It was hard to concentrate with the moans and creaking noises coming from the wall she had to share with her father. Several strands of her blue hair fell from behind her ear and obscured her vision momentarily. Pushing them back behind her ear, Bulma reached for her wire cutters. Which wire was it?

Deciding, she snapped the green wire, and was rewarded with her current project bursting into flames. So it was the blue wire after all.

Too late now.

There was a sudden banging noise upon her bedroom door, and she could barely make out the muffled sounds of her father bellowing at her angrily. Well, if he hadn't disrupted her, Bulma though nastily, then maybe her project wouldn't have burst into flames, now would it? She had been playing around with the idea of creating a portable training chamber that could be set to match anyone's power level. Training rooms were forbidden to third classes, but it no one ever said it was forbidden to make one. The door swung open, and her father stood, fuming at her in only a pair of boxers.

"I promise it won't happen again." Bulma replied blankly.

"It better not! You are supposed to be selling your creations, not blowing them UP!" He roared, as he slammed the door.

That explosion had put her back several months in research, and in equipment, but it wasn't like her father cared. He only cared about the money she made when she sold her various creations. What he didn't know was that she and her sisters all kept a small portion of their profits hidden away in her room, a stash of emergency money that her father couldn't waste upon booze or cheap prostitutes.

Three to the left, and two down. Leaning over, Bulma pulled up the wooden plank, and brought out the small sack of coins. Reaching inside, she pulled out a handful of coins that should cover the cost of the new equipment that she needed. Pushing the coins into her pocket, she put the sack back into the hole, and placed the plank back over it. Looking out the window she saw the sky was a clear soft blue, and it seemed to be calling her to fly, to feel the cool wind upon her face.

Third classes weren't allowed to fly, but today Bulma didn't care. She wanted to feel the wind rushing through her hair, and woe to any of the Guards if they tried to stop her from enjoying what should be a privilege to all Classes, not just the upper classes.

Bulma went over to the window, and flung herself from it. The ground rushed up to meet her, and only seconds before her body would have crashed into the soil, did she use her ki to lift her up. Powering up a little more she raced through the sky, leaving only a blue streak shimmering in the air.

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Bulma landed softly, on the edge of the town and smoothed back her windblown hair. Walking through the gate, she made her way to the mechanic store. It didn't have anything very high-tech but since this was the best she could get, she made do with the rudimentary supplies she had the buy here. She ignored the stares she was getting, and continued walking calmly through the town center. She had grown accustom to the strange looks, and no longer let them bother her. They could stare at her strange blue hair all they wanted, but it wouldn't make her feel any less worthy to be a Sayajin. It didn't matter if you had black hair or not, it mattered what you had in the inside. Well, at least that's what Bulma kept telling herself.

Swaggering into the store, she eyed the messy shelves, and sorted through the various tools until she found what she needed. Bringing them up to the counter, she placed them down and grimaced when Torrin, the shopkeeper, gave her the customary look over. "Yer looking good darling. If you don't have the monies to pay for this, then ye can just come into the back o' the shop with meh, sweetling."

"You wish, you overgrown ape." Bulma said as if she were remarking upon the weather.

"Yer loss, not mine." Torrin replied, as he rang up her purchases. "But I won't push ye, I don't feel like getting black and blue from facing yer wrath, plus that o' yer sister." He stated, as he handed her things. While Bulma was a known for occasionally rebelling in the village, Torrin was also talking about 18. To those who didn't know her elder sister, 18 would seem cold-hearted, and unfeeling, but deep down she did care for those she loved. Which numbered two, her and ChiChi, and 18 would do anything to make sure no one hurt them.

As Bulma walked through the town, she kept a possessive grip upon the rough paper bag in her hands. Her house was located on the outskirts of the Third District, where all the third classes lived. Third District wasn't a very safe place to live ever since the deterioration of the Royal Guards. The King, was never very concerned with matters of the state, more focused on enjoying time in his pleasure houses. However, ever since the Prince became enrolled in the Royal Guards, things were starting to get better. Still one could never be to careful. She knew most of the regulars around her wouldn't bother to mess with her, or her sisters because, her father, despite, his faults, taught them the rudiments of fighting. What he didn't know, was that his daughters continued to train whenever they could. Third Class females didn't have long life expectancy, and that's why it was so important for Bulma to finish the training room. That way they could increase their power even faster. However, most people around here knew not to mess with any of them, unless they wanted a good beating. As she left the gate, she powered up, and shot off into the clear sky.

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"Freak!"

18 felt the old familiar anger rip through her again. She remembered all the taunts and nasty things said about her and her sisters. She used her anger to aid her in fighting, and felt the surge of her own power swarm around her.

"Filthy little third class whore!"

Words weren't supposed to hurt. They weren't supposed to cause wounds on the inside, but they did. Powering up, she shot a Ki blast from her palm into a tree, watching as it crumbled into a pile of ashes. Ever since her mother had died things had gotten worse, for they no longer had her to shield them from the hatred. It was strange how each of her sisters had dealt with what they hands of fate had given them.

18 believed that Bulma had turned out the best of all of them. Bulma didn't let the pain get to her, or at least it didn't seem as if it did. While 18 constantly felt like a bomb about to explode with all the rage she felt. Ever since her father started whoring off ChiChi, 18 felt a part of her die, and it was nothing compared to what ChiChi felt. ChiChi was never really the same after that, more like a pale wraith of her past self.

18 was the eldest, she was supposed to protect her sisters, but she was doing a pretty bad job at it, wasn't she? She couldn't save herself let alone her sisters, but maybe if she got strong enough, she could hurt all those who had hurt her. For she couldn't take this much longer…

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Please let me know what you think…

-illusory