Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ He Means Business ❯ 01 ( Chapter 1 )

"Hey. Woman."

 

Nothing.

 

"Bulma."

 

Nothing.

 

"...Bulma."

 

Still nothing.

 

"BULMA!" the force of Vegeta's voice nearly pushed her from her chair on its own, but he helped it along by tilting the chair. She tumbled to the ground, stack of papers following and scattering around her as large, rectangular snowflakes.

 

"Dammit, Vegeta, what do you want?" she stood, rubbing her rear where she'd struck the ground. "I was working, you know!"

 

"Were not," the prince spat. "You were sleeping."

 

"No, I...well...I was just tired," she shrugged, gathering up the papers and halfheartedly straightening them; her fingers grasped them delicately as if they might melt in her hands.

 

Vegeta snatched one of the papers. "What is this?" he raised an eyebrow, waving it in front of her face. "It's blank." He gathered up a few more, with much less finesse but much more interest than Bulma. "They're all blank."

 

"Not this one!" she huffed, waving a solitary sheet. Vegeta snorted, noting the few lines of scrawling text on the top and a half-hearted diagram in one margin. Upon closer inspection, he found that the diagram was actually a sketch of the dragon balls. "Anyway, why do you care?"

 

"Don't think your recent lack of," he paused, flashing a toothy grin, "aggression," and flinched away as Bulma crossed her arms and huffed, "has gone without my noticing." He grabbed the one used paper from Bulma and glanced over the text at the top. It was a random grouping of words, some sort of brainstorming exercise, but each one seemed to have been crossed out, scribbled through, or otherwise marked off. "I get the feeling it's related to your lethargic approach to your work of late," Vegeta leaned in close, "and I have a particular interest in this." He stood again, crossing his arms and waiting.

 

"All right," she sighed, "you got me." Bulma took one of the blank sheets and applied systematic folds to it, until it was a flawlessly designed paper plane. It soared across the room for a few moments, looping and dipping as it banked just before it hit one wall, sweeping just along another, seemingly anticipating Vegeta's ducking motion and teasing him, twitching closer toward him before Bulma snatched it back. "I'm bored."

 

"How's that?" Vegeta took the plane from her, appreciating its form for half a second before crumpling it and tossing it into the trash can across the room. "You run an entire company."

 

"The largest corporation on the planet, more like," she huffed, plopping back into her chair and resting her cheek against her hand.

 

Vegeta's eyebrows lifted. "Yes. It must keep you busy. Or do you want me to go back to breaking the gravity room every other day?"

 

Bulma shrugged. "It's the biggest corporation on the planet. The whole planet, Vegeta! You know, it wasn't always like this."

 

"I like it this way," Vegeta took a seat beside her, flinging his feet up onto the table and crossing his legs at the ankles. "I don't have to do anything but train, eat, and sleep. Perfect for a Saiyajin prince. Would you rather have been pushed aside by a different company?"

 

"I'd rather compete," she blurted.

 

Vegeta smirked. "Ah. So that's it." He seemed to consider the ceiling for a minute. "Well, why don't you just give some other company some money to expand? I don't know how such things work, but that seems like it would be effective enough."

 

"That's cheating," Bulma blew him a raspberry. "No way."

 

"I don't know what to tell you," Vegeta shrugged. "I could teach you some martial arts and you could go beat someone up."

 

"I just wish someone could be as amazing as me," Bulma sighed, and Vegeta rolled his eyes, "at running a business, I mean. To compete with me."

 

"Well, given your brilliance," Vegeta grinned in only half condescension, "you may wish for too much." He glanced down at the single marked page that he still held. "...Bulma. Wish." The prince slid the paper across the table to Bulma. "The dragon balls."

 

 

...

 

 

"Well, damn. You got me," Bardock slapped his cards down onto the table.

 

"Yeah, how're those psychic powers working out for you now?" Raditsu grinned, gathering up his winnings. "That's three times in a row you lost to me!"

 

"Raditsu," Bardock hunched over the table, preparing to explain, "I arready told you, my visions don't—" his head smacked against the surface below him as he seemed to fall asleep immediately, twitching slightly.

 

"Aw, dammit," Raditsu leaned over his father, quickly reshuffling the cards and glancing over them. "You'd better not be looking at my hand, in there!" he knocked on Bardock's head. The man merely twitched again, his mouth moving wordlessly, eyes half-open.

 

A moment later he sat up, just as abruptly as he'd collapsed. "Pork bun!" he blurted, apparently in alarm.

 

But he found no response, for in his sudden sitting up he had slammed his head against Raditsu's—his son lay unconscious on the ground. Bardock shrugged, reshuffling the deck as he waited for Raditsu to come to. "Well ain't that just the way it goes."

 

 

...

 

 

"Thanks, Vegeta," Bulma smiled, taking the last dragon ball from him.

 

"I'm a much better swimmer than you, of course," he smirked, and grabbed his shirt from the ground to dry his hair. "So, are you taking them back home, or making your wish right here?"

 

"Oh, I don't think I can wait!" Bulma laid the orbs out carefully. "You know what I first wanted when I found out about these?" she held the last one up for a moment.

 

"The exact same thing?" Vegeta guessed, snorting.

 

"No way," she laughed, "Dad still ran Capsule Corporation then. I wanted a boyfriend," she chuckled, and Vegeta's mouth curled into a disgusted frown. "What? I was young."

 

"Fool. Just make your wish."

 

"Man, I wonder how long it'll take?" Bulma stepped away from the glowing spheres. "I hope not too long."

 

"Ridiculous," was all Vegeta had to say, but at Bulma's fierce glare he added, "but so long as it makes you happy."

 

"Damn straight," Bulma grinned, and raised her hands above her head. "Come forth, Shenlong!"

 

The dragon burst from the ground, unwinding until it curled gracefully through the sky. "What is your first wish?" he asked promptly, even hurriedly.

 

"I want to wish for...a person who can run a business that can compete with Capsule Corp.!"

 

Vegeta swore he heard Shenlong mutter something about 'amateurs' beneath his fearsome dragon breath. "That's your wish?" he boomed. "I can't make sense of it. Please clarify."

 

"Er...well...like...the most capable person...to be put in the position where they can successfully start a business?" she started. "I don't even care what kind of person."

 

"Eight-year-old?" Shenlong questioned, and Vegeta got the distinct impression that they were being played for fools. "Dead man?" he added when Bulma was speechless for a time. "Fluf—"

"Yes, yes, dammit, I don't care what kind of person it is!" Bulma finally cried. "All right? Just make it happen!"

 

The dragon sighed, to the extent that his exhalation could be considered sighing, as his eyes glowed. "It is done. And I am not going to allow you to make the second wish," Shenlong rumbled. "Have that guy make one."

 

"Me?" Vegeta balked. "I..."

 

"No!" the dragon roared. "Behind you!"

 

The Saiyajin whipped around. "Kakarotto."

 

"What's up, guys? I noticed the sky got dark," the man strode out into the clearing, grinning. "What's the occasion?"

 

"I'll explain later," Vegeta huffed. "But this dragon is just about on my last nerve."

 

"Yo, Shenlong, I don't think these guys want the other wish!" Goku called up. "Can we save it for later?"

The dragon nodded, and Vegeta again heard muttering, this time that sounded very much like the words 'thank god'—but he seemed to be the only one to notice. The dragon disappeared and the balls soared to all the corners of the world at a notably speedier pace than he'd remembered them moving before.

 

"So," Goku stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What was your wish?"

 

 

...

 

 

"Wow," Nappa leaned over Raditsu's unconscious body. "You are out, buddy." He slapped the man's face one more time, to no avail, before glancing up to Bardock. "You're his father, right? You were here when this happened?"

 

"Well, 's not really...'s way too complicated to explain," he shrugged.

 

"Gotta say, and I'm sorry to say it," Nappa started, glancing down at Raditsu. "I think that your son is—" he gasped, waving his hand over the suddenly empty space above Raditsu's head, "—alive?"