Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Not Meant For Me ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Not Meant For Me

by Dark Hope Assassin

Chapter One

I stand by a sakura tree. It's a windy spring day. The sharp breeze is hitting hard on my cheek and front body. But I'm too deep in thought to notice.

Why am I here alone? Why did all of this happen to me? How is it that I feel this emptiness deep inside? Why do I feel like this? What is this feeling? Did I say all I wanted?

But I'm getting ahead of myself and confusing you even more than I am. I better explain to you the reason for me to be standing here all by myself. Why am I different from the others? I lace my fingers between my ebony locks and pull my hair back as if it's not straight enough as it is with its flame-like style. I smirk weakly as my hair is shorter than it originally was. My smirk turns into a deep frown as I lean back on the sakura tree and find myself deep in thought...

Let me tell you the story of my family's biggest tragedy.... The loss of someone really important to us.

---------------------------------

I stare at myself in the mirror. My dark spiky hairs seem to be on a rampage, just the same as I feel. Every fiber of my body wishes for me to object to my parents' wishes. Every little part of me wants to scream, to yell until my voice is no more, but I can't. I have been a burden to my parents all my life. I have brought only misery to them. But I ceased to care soon. I am what I am. And they will not make me pull back just because they do not like the way I act.

I'm furious today. I'm frustrated. I overreact every time I have to do this. I hate it. I hate her too. I hate them as well. I hate them for making me do this. I hate them for doing this to me. I hate them both for having her. Why did they need her after they had me?! Wasn't I good enough to please them? Was that why SHE exist?! Is that the real reason?! I wish someone would answer my questions. I wish someone would try to make me feel better. However, no one wants to approach me anymore. They're afraid I'll beat them up or harm them in any other way, either physical or mental. But, as I mention, I ceased to care.

I turn around, not able to stand my frowning expression in the mirror. I do not want this. I do not want any of it. I have tried running away from home. My stupid parents informed the authority and now I have to endure this all over again. But I don't want the stupid cops to be on my trail again. I feel uneasy staring in their mean-looking eyes. I could have never figured that they had just the same thoughts about me.

My name is Briefs. Vegeta Briefs. I'm ten years old. My father is the most important person on the planet. He is a scientists and wants me to follow his lead and become one too when I grow up. Father and his stupid visions of my future that I want to have no intention of participating in. Anyway, Dr. Briefs, as he likes to be called, the inventor of the capsules and president of Capsule Corporation, is the person I'm used to call "father".

"Vegeta." I hear a high-pitched voice behind myself. I cringe but turn around before I have to hear the voice again. My eyes lay on my worst nightmare, or anyone else's in this world - my smaller sister. Her sapphire eyes gleam with joy as she is told she is to be taken out for a walk. Yes, you got that right. I have a little sister. Her name is Bulma. She's an year younger than me, but she looks like she's four. She's a retard in my eyes, but I avoid saying that to her when mother or father are around. I don't want them hanging on my neck because of this little insolent bitch.

I sigh. A sigh of irritation. You can already tell that I'm not from those people that are so over-protective of their smaller relatives. I'm no where even near to such thing. To tell you the truth, I hate my sister.

"Are you going to move your retarded feet or do I have to come back tomorrow when you finally are ready to go?!" I snap sharply at her. The expression on her face changes into what looks like a surprise. She is used to my comments about her. She usually doesn't answer them. She just watches me with those deep blue eyes as if she is trying to hypnotize me and make me say I'm sorry for being mean to her. Yeah, right; in her dreams.

"Let's go." She says none too enthusiastically and I mumble something as I fetch my shoes. It's a good thing my mom and dad are not here right now. Otherwise they would've gone through the drill telling me what Bulma should and should not do, and that would've truly done it for me. Like I said, it's a good thing they're not home.

. . . . . . . .

"Vegeta!" She calls from ahead of me with that annoying high-pitched voice of hers. I frown deeply forward at her, but she does not seem to notice with her shining toothy smile. Her attitude pisses me off. I don't like her attitude. I don't like the fact she's my sister. And I certainly don't like that my parents made me take her out again. They are really busy people. I don't really care when they make me do something around the hose, clean a room, move some boxes, or even a cupboard. I'm ready to move ten cupboard, seven times my size even, just not to be here with someone like my sister.

"Vegeta!" She keeps calling my name. Does she not note the annoyance I look at her with? Well, there's nothing to be done about it. I sit on a bench as far away from her as possible. I don't want people to know we're related. I feel embarrassed by having people know I'm her brother. It makes me feel like a retard myself. I sigh. An irritated sigh again. I guess there is nothing to be done about this. At least she doesn't call me "brother", "bro" or anything that tells other people that she is my sister. I feel like she is doing this on purpose, not calling me like that. Yet I have the feeling that if I find out why, I'm going to hate her even more than I do now.

Ever since she was little, Bulma has received all of the love of our parents. She was showered with gifts since the day she was born. Since the day mother expelled her from her body... Everyone is treating her like a glass doll, something so fragile and petite, as if she can break at any moment. They are treating her like a princess, a goddess even. Or merely just like the rich kid she should be treated as. But I don't want to hear any of it. She has all of the attention. All the time. All the love. I don't need my parents, I never did. All I need them for is the food, the roof to live under and the pocket money they give me every week. Yet, in the same time, I still feel the rage burning inside me every time Bulma hugs our parents, receives kisses and byes and welcomes whenever she goes out or comes back.

I hear another frustrated sigh escape between my lips. Well, there is nothing I can do about this. And I'm not going to do anything about it, even if I could. It's not my concern what is done or what she does for that matter for her. Hell will freeze over before I begin to care.

I lift my gaze up, expecting to see her on that stupid swing again, enjoying herself, or doing another stupid girly thing. And then I see she's missing. Again. I growl deep in my throat and I feel it sore from doing so the whole day that I had to spend with Bulma. If she gets lost, my mother will lose it and father will definitely beat the living daylights out of me for being so 'irresponsible'. "She is your little sister, for Pete's sakes! You have to at least take care she doesn't get lost while she's out!" I can hear him even now, screaming at me as his hand swings back but is caught by mother's the second time he wants to hit me. Yep, you can tell these arguments are not really rare in our family.

I rise from the bench and explore the area in the most lazy pace I can muster. I sigh. I'll do this, but I won't like it.

"Bulma!" I yell. I hate her name just as much as I hate her shockingly white face. She had been like that ever since I have known her. Snow white. With the strange lavender locks of hair in her face, sticking in her mouth, making her look utterly disgusting. Her sapphire deep eyes that make me want to vomit every time she stares at me. At any part of me. My chest (she's pretty much shorter than me, being a retard and I being bigger for my age), my back (when I don't want to see her), my eyes.... I caught her looking at me when I was doing my home work once. She wanted to ask me something back then, but I ignored her pretty successfully. You can say that again.

"Bulma!" I yell again, this time even with less enthusiasm. Why am I doing this? Let mother scream her head off and cry her eyes dry. Let father kick, hit and punch me until he is sore all over and can't even hold a pen straight. They can call the authorities and everything will be perfectly fine. I try to tell myself that. But in the back of my head swims out a vision of Bulma getting choked by someone my age, calling her a retard like I do and suddenly I halt my step.

Yes, I do hate her. I hate her with passion I would never think could exist at such an age. I hate her so bad, and then again, I don't want anyone but me telling her how stupid she was. I don't want anyone but me trying to bully her, trying to hurt her mentally even. I cringe at my behaviour. I have always been like this. And the reason I'm like it is lost. And I have to find her, before I get accused of something. Something I have actually done.

I keep looking for her. Here, there, that place. I have checked everywhere around, and there is still no trace of her. I hear children's laughter and I frown. I hate it when someone is having fun. All that I can consider fun is kicking those who are laughing in the gut. I feel strangely gravitated to the place the laughter is coming, however. I glance over one of the kids and find that one in the center is trying to snatch a jacket out of a girl's hand. My sister's hands.

"Give it here, bitch!" The boy yells at her and a hoarse laughter runs through all of the third graders. They are bigger and the boy is certainly stronger than Bulma. Suddenly, I feel angry. I don't even know why I do, but the thought of someone who is physically fitter than Bulma trying to do something bad to her angers me. At this point, I have not even noted that the jacket the kid is trying to take from her is actually mine. It did not matter even back then, when I think about it now.

"No!" She yells back. Her voice is stern and isn't shaking, despite the fact that she realizes the is being out-numbered and out-powered by the kids. She didn't see me. She still hasn't. She had her eyes closed and tears were probably threatening to cascade down her cheeks. "It's not yours! Let it go!" She says even more sure of herself this time, opening her flashing in rage eyes. The kids chuckle and the one that is teasing her smirks arrogantly. Is that guy a fan of mine?

"It's not yours either!" He shrieks back at her and is about to hit her when I catch his fist and flip him on his back. It's a lock I know from my karate lessons. Yep, I'm working out alright. If you see how I looked like even back then, you would have probably been really shocked. Bulma blinked a few times when she felt that the pressure, pulling the jacket from her is gone now. She probably noted my back facing her as I stood in front of her with a pissed expression over my face as I scanned those of the kids in front of me.

"Anyone want some?!" I screamed in rage at them. My eyes sparkled with a raw animalistic desire for battle even back then. I heard whispers among the small crowd of third graders, 'Look, look!' 'Hey, that fourth grader is protecting the wimp!' 'What the hell is his problem?!' Usually, I would've gone nuts, would've gotten angry with myself. But back then, I didn't I was just looking angrily at them with my dark onyx eyes, urging them to try bully my sister again.

My sister. It still sounds ugly to me. As ugly as she is to me.

Before I knew it, the kids scattered around and I didn't see them for long time after that. I sighed in irritation for what time that day I lost count of. Well, there's nothing to be done about it. I heard Bulma clear her throat behind my back and I turned around to look at her. She was holding the jacket up for me to take it. I examine it further and find it is actually my jacket. Why that....

"Thank you for letting me borrow this, Vegeta!" She chirped and smiled at me. I frowned further and did not plan to stop doing so. Her smile, however, did not fail her even for a second when she threw her hands around my neck and pulled me into a quick hug. "Thanks for saving me." She said and ran steadily back home. She knew the way perfectly, she wouldn't get lost. I didn't need to run after her. It would look suspicious anyway. I hate my sister.........

. . . . . . . . .

Time had passed since this day. Our 'relationship', if you can call it that at all, worsened. You wonder why? Well, let me tell you. Once I got to school the next day, my so-called 'classmates' began attacking me with various things such as "OHhhHhh, Vegeta finally found a girlfriend!" "Yeah, a mere kid none the less!" "I'm no surprised at all, it just suits him." "I bet that when he grows up he will be a pedophiliac."

I couldn't stand this. I didn't want to hear another word. But what could I do? If I ran away, they would never stop teasing me. But there is nothing I can say. "She is my sister, you mother fuckers!! My Goddamn sister!" No, that just didn't sound right. We don't look alike at all. But then again, did I want them to know she was my sister? The little retard even third graders made fun of? No. I'd rather listen to them referring to my near future as a "child lover" rather than letting them have what else to tease me with. Did I even pay attention to them? Nope. Definitely not. Their voices seem like a far away cry of a baby that's in desperate need for attention. My attention.

I am very well known over the school, at the age of ten, you can say that. I've been "the cool guy who's working out". They say I will stay short. I wonder why I thought they were too stupid to be telling the truth back then. But even if I know so early that I would have to stay short to be as strong as I am now, I would gladly repeat my 'mistake'.

So, after my 'accident' in school, I refused to do anything with Bulma. She had been feeling lonely, probably, because Mom and Dad were no where even close to coming home for her to pay her any attention. They had all those important meetings all over the world with so many different other companies and corporations... And, you can guess now, they did not pay enough attention as to tell me to be 'nice' to Bulma and do whatever she wants me to. And without being told that, I will never ever be even polite with her.

I hear a knock on my door as I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling again. I wonder what's the use of my life, really. All I do is do fuss about my smaller sister. Sure, she's dumb, she's annoying and she truly pisses me off just by existing, but is that why I live? To feel boiling hate all over my body? To feel this hatred for this imbecile that I wonder how could possibly be my father's only daughter?! I feel frustrated all over again. My hate causes excitement to run fast within my veins, circulating with my blood. The knocking sound would not stop and I guess I have growled so loud, that I scared her off.

I sigh and lift myself off of the bed and stand in front of the window out of the night city, that is lighted all over with various colours of lamps, neon ads and other stupid things that I'm too tired to recognize from so far. The city is beautiful... Did I make you think I'm an absolute hater? No. I know beauty when I see it. I treasure everything beautiful that I have and everything beautiful that I see.

I have been drifting away with pleasant thoughts when the knocking resumes. I growl again but this time I'm going to give her quite an earful of it. When I swing the door open, inhaling deeply as to get my voice ready for some imbecile bashing, she sticks something in my face. I can't focus on it at such close range, so I stretch my hands out and push her away roughly, making her small body lose balance for a bit and then she supported herself steadily and gave me a better look on what she had made.

I blinked a few times. It was the muscle shirt I have thrown out because mother said it was too much of a rag to sew. It was my favourite muscle shirt, really, but there was nothing to be done about it. It had a huge hole in the back (You don't want to know why. Believe me, you don't.) and I too was understanding my mother. Though, I didn't let her see that. And I literally threw it out. But Bulma seems to have gotten a handful of it and had practiced her sewing skills on it. And now... Now it looked like nothing ever happened to it. Well, not really, but as far as that possible it did.

She was smiling brightly at me, obviously proud of her work. She took out some book and stuck it out as well for me to see.

"Look, Vegeta! Look what I was able to do thanks to this book!" She cries out and jumps up and down, filled with excitement about her sewing. I snatched the shirt roughly away from her paws, as if she had some sort of highly contagious disease or something and looked at it unbelievingly. She obviously ignored my rudeness and leant in over my shoulder as I stretched out the muscle shirt in my hands. I look suspiciously at it, my brows furrowed over my eyes in an examining manner. Not that I don't usually have that expression on my face.

"I don't want it." I push it back to her hands as I feel her smile over my shoulder. I don't want her help! I don't need it! If it's gone, then it's gone! I'll buy a new one, that I will like better than this one! I don't want any of her help about anything!!

I observe her face fall slightly and then she pushes the muscle shirt back to my chest, having an unwanted contact with it through the smooth fabric of the thing. She smiles weakly at me again, but I can see behind her mask. She's not really good at hiding things. Especially not from me, because she gets all nervous that I might do something to her.

"No, Vegeta; you got the wrong impression!" She tries to assure me with her weakling attempts. Yeah, right. She doesn't think I'll really buy it, does she?! "I was trying to sew your shirt and I was so clumsy poking my own skin more than the cloth and Mom came with my dry laundry and she felt bad because she refused to help you with the shirt. And she told me to knock it off and she would do it for you, because I don't know how to do it. I asked her to teach me, but she wouldn't listen. And that's why she sewed it herself."

I watch her expressionless face. She dare not even breathe in fear she might go wrong in her actions. I blink a few times. I see through her blatant lie from the whole beginning. In her haste, she forgot to 'explain' why she actually brought the book. But if that's how she wanted it, I would play along with her for a while.

"So, Mom did it for me after all?" I ask with a hint of suspicion. She nods vigorously. I smirk down at her.

"Well then, I see no reason why not to take it back." Her pinkish lips curled into a slight frown as she heard the 'well then'-part. Did I really hit the spot? The next moment, however, she seemed so enthusiastic.

"I'll tell Momma you're happy to have your shirt back when she gets home!" Her voice chirps to me as she heads straight away to her own bedroom. I snort and throw the useless piece of fabric on the back of my chair. It didn't work. She didn't frown. Not really. I didn't really hurt anything. So, my attempt failed. I looked back at the muscle shirt. Why did she insist me to have it, even after I took it with the 'thought' that mother did the sew job for me? Didn't she want her working appreciated? I saw that the part of the wounding her hands was pretty much true, though I doubt mother brought her any laundry soon since she was too busy being on meetings.

Strangely, I can hear a chuckle in my room. I surprise myself even more as I find it had escaped my own lips. She's not really good at lying to me.

. . . . . . .

The next night, I found myself that I have trained for the whole day with no brake. You'll say that for a ten year old I make a lot of fuss about this. Well, to tell you the truth, there's not anything else I can do around this house besides training. I don't like watching TV, I don't like talking to my sister, I don't like having her presence near and I don't like the idea of being alone with her in the house. But, living in Capsule Corporation is like living into a Palace. Though it has this strange dome-like shape which makes it impossible to be mistaken with a Palace from those foolish fairy-tales.

Anyway, what I meant is that the place is huge, There are tens, hundreds of rooms even fit in here, having various people living here - employees, friends, relatives... Many different people, most of which I have never even heard the existence of. And every time I walk around this huge house, I encounter Bulma countless of times, having in thought that meeting her along a 'home trip' is one in a thousand times. Well, I guess I'm not really lucky then.

And the only place where only I am allowed to go, and that is I alone, is the training chamber.

The training chamber looks more like a dome from the outside. I feel as if it has a different atmosphere here. It's just... Well, I guess I have this feeling because it reeks of me, my sweat, my blood... It's my only real refuge in this world. Fuck, I start to sound like a rascal.

I hit the wall with my tightened fist. I don't know why I feel so... so.... empty all over again.... I really have no idea what I want to achieve in life... I don't know what I want from it, and I have honestly no idea what IT wants from ME. I keep pushing myself, trying to figure things out. I'm a smart boy, I know a lot of things, I have plenty of knowledge about the world, about the life, about the things beyond the wall of Capsule Corp. dome. But I have no idea how to react to it when it actually comes in touch with me... What should I do? How shall I act? What's the reason to it really? It certainly isn't pleasing my parents. They have it just fine with Bulma's (I snort mentally at the sound of her name in my head) achievements. They seem quite content with everything she does. She never gets in trouble. I guess I compensate it for both of us.

I hear a loud growl and look accusingly at my stomach as if it can actually see me and stop doing that. But it cannot, and that's why it repeated its growling. I'm so hungry, fucking damn it... It's been a day since I last ate anything. And it was some sort of fruit that I don't even remember how it's called... It wasn't really tasty, but I had to eat something. I better do the same now before I pass out.

I open the door that leads to the house and note the tray on the ground by the door-frame. I feel my eye brow rising as I bend over to see what's in it. It's a dish and some juice. Actually my favourite dish and juice. I lift my head up looking around. She had to be around here somewhere, it was still streaming. And since when could she ready this? All I know is that it's kind of difficult to cook.

Little did I know that down the hall, two sapphire eyes were gleaming with joy as they watched me...

. . . . . . . . . . .

I graded fourth grade. And my parents told me I should apply to some special school that begins from grade five. I didn't do as much as flinch at the thought of leaving the house for three years. I was still a child, yes, my mother and father realized this very well. Don't think of them as heartless people. They do as well know how independent I am, and how much I detest my little sister. I think that and the fact they really want something to come out of me is the reason to send me away for these three years. After them I will come back to Capsule Corporation, because here is located the best school one could ever wish for.

The interesting part was that I had to leave on Bulma's birthday...

Not that I really cared. I never care. I never give her any real gifts beside the ones my mother and father almost demand me to give her that they bought. I sigh. Why is it different this year? What changed? The fact that she had been trying harder than ever to get under my skin? Is it the fact that she actually succeeded what angered me so much? I don't really care, honestly. But I felt... Obliged in a strange way to give her a present, something not really valuable in money aspect but in sentimental aspect.

I was never the 'gift'-type of person. I never know what the other could possibly want to possess or what not. And the fact that I had to find a gift for someone I loathe didn't really help me in my choice. I sigh in an irritated manner. What will I ever do when there are no feelings to drive me around in the other city.

I lay on my back against the bed and stare up at the white ceiling. I heard that mental hospitals have white ceilings as well. White eases the eyes they say. Well, it certainly doesn't ease mine. I let out a snort and turn to the side with my back facing the door-frame now. I'll think about my 'duty' after I rest. It's going to be a long trip tomorrow.

. . . . . . . . .

The next day the whole family is gathered around the cab that is taking me to my new apartment in West city. Mother has pulled her beautiful wavy jet-black hair in a loose tail that did not do much than just keeping her hair out of her face as she cried. She didn't want the hair to ruin her make up further, not to mention it ruining itself that way. Father shed a tear as well but shook my hand politely, telling me to take it easy and to return ever better than before.

My little sister just stared at me. She probably did not dare hug me after all that I have told her about my feelings towards her. I feel like a monster right now... I made her scared like this. But she deserves it, a little voice in my head calls, assuring me in my deeds that I was beginning to seriously doubt. I looked away from her and got in the cab. All of my family waved at me, except for her. She was just staring at the ground as she did minutes ago. She did not lift her head even for a mere second.

And then, when the cab pulled out of the drive way, her head shot up with the speed of light and my eyes locked with hers for a moment. She saluted me with teary eyes and that was the last thing I saw of my house and my family for a long time.

I sigh as I place my back in the cushy upholstery of the car. I wonder how she will react when she comes back to her room and sees the package on her bed...

. . . . . . . .

The next couple of years have been total Hell. I had not realized how happy I was that I lived with my parents. The richest parents in the world that is. They are always so nice to everyone, including the family. Neither of them ever gets that much angry. Except if I don't trigger them anyway.

The last year, seventh grade, has been the worst. You say that the kids are really still kids back then, getting into puberty and stuff... Well, let me tell you this. Some of them are more horny than eighteen year-olds and smoke worse than a chimney does. They have drugs that weight more than I do, probably. I don't really care. My only problem was fitting into that environment for three years. Well, easy to guess, I was the outcast of the class. I never wanted to join their stupid parties where they were 'getting drunk', in which I'm not so sure since they are too little for such things, who will sell them alcohol anyway?! Neither did I join their smoking groups behind the school building.

The only think I came in touch with them were the fights. Whenever a fight was started, when I arrived, there were no winners. There were only losers, for I beat both sides up. They are stupid for even trying to kick each other around. In school, no less.

You can say that I have grown, both in mind and body. I have become higher, though I was one of the shortest in my class and the whole grade actually. Yet I was out-powering most of the rascals at the age of twelve. And when I say most, that means most of the high school students here as well. Yep, it's kind of a mixed school. You can get transfered after fourth grade here or after seventh. I will not stay here after this year even if it's the last thing I'll ever do.

I have been training, reading and training some more for the past three years. I had nothing else to do. Everything we were taught in school was stupid, useless. It was a piece of cake for me. Yep, I'm a sharp one, you can say. And I don't take boredom easy. I hate being bored. There's nothing more boring than being completely bored out of your mind. And that's how I felt without my family around.

My family... When did I last refer to them like that? Never, that's when. I act all bossy in the house, as if I'm superior than every living being. I act like I don't care about anything, and about most things I don't. I don't care how much food they offer me, or how much things they buy me. I don't need money... I just... No, I don't really need anything... But why am I so... So... Choking in my heart? I feel like a tourniquet has been laced tightly around my heart, pressing it mercilessly as it nearly pops. These people wouldn't even know as much as my name straight if my father wasn't the famous Dr. Briefs. They don't want as much as talk to me. And here I hated my little sister my whole life and for what? Because she was a girl? Because she was more fragile than I am? Because she really needs Mom and Dad, unlike me?

I have realized those things a while ago. I have much time to think when I read. My sister... My little sister... I wonder why I was such a kid back then. Well, I really was a kid, I was only ten. But that didn't change the fact I acted like a two year-old. I sigh and lay on my back on the velvety bed. The covers are so nice to the touch... But not as nice as the ones that are home.

Without realizing it, I have become so homesick that I was the first at the bus station when the class was dismissed for the very last time.

. . . . . . . . .

I couldn't help but wonder if my sister remembers the way I have treated her when we were little. Because I surely count myself for a growing up youth now. And I know certainly better than treating Bulma the way I did before. I look at the muscle shirt that has become more of a talisman other than anything. I have grown too much to wear it now, but I don't want to throw it out. I fear that she might again take it, work her magic on it and give it back to me, making me feel obliged to do something for her again.

I shake my head. What am I thinking? I catch my thoughts drifting away to home every time I don't really pay attention to them. What am I to think of myself with such thoughts. They always go to my little sister home, wondering if her hair is still as lavender as it was, if her eyes are still as bright sapphire colour as they were three years ago. When I zoned out like this in school one of the idiots there yelled 'OhHHhhhHh, is Veggie-chan in lOoOOove?' Hn, pointless to tell you he barely got home with the blue eye I gave him. But it's the remark that actually angered me more than the nickname he had given me.

. . . . . . . . .

The mesmerizing moves and shakes of the bus ceased. We have arrived at Satan City. I sigh and stand from my place, getting off of the vehicle. Finally. I thought I was going to die if I had to ride on that thing even a second longer. I don't like buses, but I didn't have another choice. None of the taxies in West City wanted to take that much of a long trip.

I set a foot on solid ground and look around. I could never expect anyone to be here since I told no one what I was riding home, or even when I was doing it. I noted a little female on the waiting benches with small white creamy legs. She looked small, really, both age and physically, but she was kind of attractive to me. Or at least the part of her that I could see. Her fingers were thin and short, giving her that adorable look little girls have. She had her face burrowed in some book. I smirked and decided to say 'Hi' to this little creature. I would never see her again, anyway; the city is huge.

"Hello there." I say in a strange voice. Don't look at me like that. Those horny bastards obviously did a number on me... Jeez... And here I thought I was invincible for such 'attacks'.

Can you imagine my horror as the book closed with a dull sound and a bright smile was directed right at me.

"Welcome home, Vegeta!" The girl called. Yep, my little sister.

Let's just say I did a mistake by thinking she was worth the time talking to. She had grown. She didn't look like a four year-old anymore. She looked more like a sixth grader now. I smirked at her and took the lead home.

I wonder how she knew I was going to go home today...

. . . . . . . . .

The same night there was some kind of a party in my honour. I was touched, really. I was touched by the attention they were paying to me. I thought all that it would end with would be 'Welcome home, son. We're glad to have you back. Did you enjoy your stay at West City? Did you make some new friends you will keep in touch with?' Just short interest for half an hour maximum and then they go back to their business trips or whatever they have in their schedule for the year.

Yet, there they stood, both of them, seeminly very happy looking at me as if I was treasure. They have never laid eyes on me with that glint in their eyes. I actually had the feeling that I mean something very big to them in that moment.

"Welcome home, son!" My mother cheered enthusiastically. What did I tell you about that line? I was just sure it will follow. "We're so happy you made it back in one piece with the transport around here." I chuckled. She doesn't know how right she actually is. My behind still hurts and I have the feeling that it's shaped in a flat form. Joyful laughter rang through the inhabitants of the room.

"Why are all of you here?" Only my expression was still the stoned one it always was, even when they laughed. My Dad looked strangely at me and then smiled at Bulma who was drinking her juice right now.

"Your sister forced us to take a day for a break today." His smile didn't leave his face for a second as Bulma's expression turned into one of sheer embarrassment. Her whole face turned a bright pink colour and she didn't gulp the juice down so she wouldn't need to put the glass away for some time. Childish. But then again that was what she actually was, wasn't it? "We didn't have an idea what she meant..." Father added after my gaze left Bulma's blushing form. Yep, I'm sure they didn't. How could they possibly be interested when their son is coming back. That would be just not even imaginable. "But she insisted that we stay home and she and her mother cooked all of this."

"Oh, now, don't spoil me too much." Mother butted in, giggling girlishly. "Bulma did most work herself." My surprised eyes shifted over to the girl in question again, expecting to see her even redder than before. The surprise was even bigger to me as she was smiling brightly at me and her expression did not even hint the kind of embarrassment it had written over a moment before. Strange girl... She got even stranger the time I was gone, I deduced.

"Welcome home, Vegeta!" She repeated the same words she said at the station. But this time they had a lot more meaning in them to me than they did before.

. . . . . . . .

For the rest of the evening we have talked. And when I say talked, I really mean that I have informed them about many things they cared enough to ask about. And the most interesting fact is that I enjoyed talking to them. At least as much as this is possible.

All of us shared with each other the past few years' accomplishments. All of us, except for Bulma. She was just listening and asking here and there if anyone would like more food or anything for drinking. I couldn't understand this. She was never the quiet type around mother and father. Why start now? Maybe she too has begun to change. Well, that was pretty much obvious to myself. She had begun developing as a woman as well. Her chest was fuller than before... I shake my head violently. What the hell am I thinking?!

"Bulma is a very smart girl." Mom adds after her last words. "She had read countless books. I'm so proud of her." She adds and hugs me. "I'm so proud of both of you." I think she said that just not to make me hate Bulma all over again. But I wasn't going to. She read countless books? How many would 'countless' stand for? I was about to ask her myself when she began collecting the dirty dishes and taking them to the sink. Mom let go of me and went to help her as Dad stretched and went for the bed.

Oh well, I guess I'll have to wait some to find out.

. . . . . . . . . .

I went to Bulma's room after I got out of the dining room. I was interested actually how much she had changed about it. I didn't really care what person she was turning to be. I don't hate her now, but I can care less what becomes of her. Yet this one little fact stirred my curiosity and I could not hold back. Why should I? I could always say that I have mistaken the location of my room after I have been for so much time away. She would never suspect a thing.

I yanked for the door handle and pushed it down, revealing a wide room with a Queen-sized bed covered with light lavender satin fabric. There were countless shelves covered with books around the room truly. Although, there was one group of shelves separated from the others. Maybe that were the ones she read. She had a huge desk and even bigger windows that faced east. It must really suck here at mornings when sun shines its ass off.

"Vegeta," I hear a quiet voice behind me and jerk my head around fast. When did she get there anyway?! I have not heard her coming. I moved away so she could enter her room as I supposed that's what she was here for, after all. She did not move a muscle, nor did she part her eyes from mine.

"I..." I began moving off. "I forgot where my room was..." I mumbled and began checking all of the other rooms around, pretending to be serious about my statement. When did she learn to see through my lies? Her eyes told me she had understood behind the blatant lie and I felt like hitting something. She was going to tease me now, just like all of the others did.

"That's okay, Vegeta; It's the last down the hall on the left. Oyasumi nasai." [Good night] Click. The door closed calmly.

I stood there, blinking a few times before I regained my composure and got back to my old room, sighing in content at the feeling the velvety covers gave me.

. . . . . . . .

The summer after my return passed awkwardly. I was still the same frowning and scowling boy I ever was. I didn't see my sister very often. She was always reading something or working on some project Dad had left for her to finish. Father had said that he began teaching her this and that about science since I left. I felt kind of... empty when I heard it first, but I shrugged it off as fast as I could.

Even though she seemed really busy with summer school (Yes, there is such thing in Satan City too. I don't know why it's needed at all though; school is a royal pain in the behind as it is, why do they have to make summer torture as well?) and all of her courses on various foreign languages, scientific shit and all of these things I cared not enough to remember. Anyway, I was saying that even though she was overly busy, she was cooking, because Mother had caught a cold not too long ago and felt too weak to do chores.

I sat quietly in the kitchen observing her actions. She paid no attention to me whatsoever. She was focused on the omelette she was making me.

"Did Mom teach you how to cook?" I couldn't help but ask. The lavender haired girl didn't turn around even as she answered me.

"I have many cook books. But..." She put the eggs in front of me in the dish that she had put earlier. "If you're asking if they paid me more attention just like they have before, no." I blinked a few times as she stared back at me. I didn't waste another moment and began inhaling my food.

How did she know what I meant?

. . . . . . . . . .

Next year came and passed as if it never happened. I felt uneasy around the house. I didn't know why, I have been born here and lived here for most of my life, yet I felt like a stranger. I was still the same person, but something was different. I didn't feel as a part of the family anymore...

Bulma was avoiding me. That was plainly clear to me. The only thing I wondered about was why she acted like that. She was never the shy type around me, especially. She did many things in the past just to have me take her out. And now she was so different too... She was growing up as well, I guessed. I have heard that girls get into puberty earlier than boys. Well, I guess it was true then. And I certainly hope that's what's been up her ass for that long. I smack myself mentally. Since when did I begin to have hopes about my sister?!

The next day I encountered her raiding the fridge in the kitchen I had to ask.

"I feel like I have some deadly highly contagious disease every time you look at me and run away like a whipped dog." Hey, did you expect me actually to say it politely? No chance. Yet, she jerked fast around still with that pained expression over her face. I wasn't used to seeing her like that. She had been all cheerful this past year while she was going out with her now second grade friend ChiChi. They were really un-alike, total opposites, yet ChiChi wanted to be friends with Bulma and my sister is not the one to turn people down. 'My sister'... 'Turn people down'... These phrases still sound highly awkward to me...

"Um...." She shifted her gaze to the ground. "In the past..." She began while stuttering. "You said that you didn't want me to be around you; you didn't want me to mention the fact that I'm your sister and you wanted to have nothing in common with me... You said... You said...." She swallowed hard. Is she trying to prevent herself from crying or is it just me? "You said often that you hated me..." Her eyes searched the floor as if there was written the answer to all of the turmoil in her life. "I didn't really realize how much of a burden I have been to you. And I keep away now, not to bug you anymore than I have already." She was done with her little speech. I stayed like that for a few moments.

And in the next I laughed. I laughed hard. I laughed sincerely. What surprised me was the serious hard glare I received from her. She thinks I'm laughing at her feelings maybe. Feh. I don't believe in feelings. I don't care what she thinks. I reach out of the carton of milk and gulp down half of its contents, pushing it back in the fridge. Bulma gave me a strange look and opened the fridge door and pushing the carton of milk back in my hands.

"If you're going to do that, better drink it all." She said accusingly watching me as I shrugged and downed the thing, throwing the empty carton to the trash can.

"You remember what I said all those years ago?" I laugh again. "I find it hard to believe that you still hang onto it." I admitted and took my backpack, placing it on my back. We are going to the same school now, since she's an eighth grader now. She's a junior at my school and I'm right the next class. Let me tell you this - ninth grade sucks hard. "Don't you think I have grown up over the crap I have been thinking when I was a child?" Well, that didn't come out right. It sounded way better than I have intended it to. Bulma's face lit up as she watched me. Her eyes began to sparkle again just like they did when she was little. Was I the reason she had lost all of her liveliness? Ah well, I could care less.

"Let's go to school, Vegeta!" She called, gripping my hand lightly as if she could possibly hurt me and dragged me out so we didn't miss the bus. Otherwise we would both be in deep trouble.

. . . . . . . . . .

I wonder if that was the little thing that made her unlock to me. She was now open and energetic, experimenting with anything she could do around the house - she changed the curtains, saying they were getting so old and sentimental; she changed the location of the things in her room, removing everything from her book-shelves and sorting them by the letter order. She made new dishes for the family, failing just a few times. She created a strange toy that could actually do chores. She made some drones that she said I could train with and meet actual challenge. And so it was.

Her friends were surprised by her behaviour, surely. She was making gifts with no particular reason. What triggered her actual happiness so much? Was it the fact that I practically told her I don't hate her or the fact that she was so unlively for the past few years? Whatever it was, the other brats shouldn't have really minded. She was great at making gifts. She knew what others wanted and she always gave the best of the sort. She's one of a kind, I hear them often say.

And when I say friends, you probably imagine all those seniors she's keeping in touch with, piles and piles of them. Actually, she has only two good friends - one of them I already mentioned, ChiChi and a boy, Goku, that I have come to despise for the fact he is an absolute goof and I have idiots. I have no idea actually why I hate him so much.... But I just do. I detest everything that has to do with him. Even his hair style pisses me off, damn it, and mine is not really better than his is! Anyway, both of them are second graders.

Over the time I encountered a girl from my previous school. Her name is Juuhachigou Jinzoningen. She was an outcast just like me. She has those shoulder length golden locks and the azure orbs and that cold mug on her face. She was always someone who others loved to tease, just like they liked to tease me. She has a brother, actually. They're twins, but I have never seen him. You wonder how I found out so much about this girl without even talking to her? Well, you hear rumors willingly or not when you are in OUR class... Our EX-class.

Now, I have this other girl from Bulma's class chasing me all over the school. Wherever I go, I see her goofy grinning face waving at me in her idiotic manner. Can you say I hate her? Yep. She looks just like my sister, though is a little chubbier. While Bulma has slender feminine petite features, Marron is bigger, meaning, taller and stronger, with bigger cheeks and... well.... Bigger ass. What? Why are you looking at me like that? I'm a MAN damn it! What did you expect? At least I didn't say that- Yeah, well, I didn't say it.

The fact that Bulma is not even friends with this girl puzzles me. They look absolutely alike, if you ignore the actual physical differences. And my sister says she hates her. Doesn't she realize that could be mistaken for hating her mirror image? When she announced that to me she probably read my expression and added,

"She's an absolute slut. I hate that kind of people." She huffed and stuck her chin high. I smirked and put a hand over her shoulders as we walked down the street to the school building that was quite visible from the other end of the next street.

"Oh? So I should take it that you're not like her?" I ask quietly in her ear. She frowns deeply and her azure eyes glare daggers at me. She's angry again. She shakes my hand off of her shoulders and huffs again.

"Of course I'm not. I'm a honourable student!" She spits the words out as if I harmed her stainless-ness in any way. I smirked as I picked up my pace to line up with her as her angry attitude affected the frequency of her foot steps. She kept her eyes shut and her chin up high as if I was some imbecile below her with her angry pace but then she opened one eye and spotted my expressionless face and closed it again. She didn't mark the inspection I was having of her... I was really interested how did she turn into a fiery female from the quiet mush she was before. I will never voice my thoughts, though. I still need my ears.

"I'm glad you are." I heard a distant voice said. It was as if it didn't below to me at all. "I wouldn't want some horny teenager's hands all over my sister." I kept my face stoned even as I let those words slide down my tongue and out of my lips. She stopped acting the High-and-Mighty Bitch and looked at me with confused eyes. They lit up again and she nodded happily at me.

What was that all about anyway?...

. . . . . . . . . .

I waited for Bulma in the front yard. You wonder since when have I started waiting for her? Well, it's been around a month or so. That's around a week after school began again. She was afraid of guys in high school. No, I think you got the wrong impression. She's a strong girl. She had proved so much to me. But she is afraid that she is not physically fit and that someone might want to take advantage of her. And that's why I'll be her 'protector' while she finds a boyfriend.

I see her walk out of the building waving at some guy with a scar on his right eye. I frown as I wait for her. Who the hell is that? I guess I had already forgotten my previous thoughts about her welfare. As we take off towards Capsule Corp., which isn't that far away from school not to be able to walk by foot, she has that dreamy expression on her mug. I continue frowning but remove my eyes from her before she begins with her dumb questions that she so much loves asking.

"What is it, Vegeta? You don't seem really cheerful to me." She smiles. I frown.

"When was the last time I was cheerful?" I ask none-chantily. Bulma's face turns to a look of deep thought after what she shrugs.

"I guess you have a point there." And there she goes grinning like an idiot again.

"You look like you ate a stick that's still in your mouth and stretches your idiotic grin from ear to ear." I note rudely. I expect to have an argument that I have grown to be quite anxious about after a day with those idiots that call themselves my classmates. Seriously, they are stupider than an imbecile. They are imbeciles themselves actually. All of them. Maybe except for that Juuhachi person. She's just as quiet as I am so I can't really tell.

"Well, obviously you have no idea what it is to feel in love!" She states and keeps on with that high-and-mighty expression she had this morning. Hm, she's right. I have no idea what that is like, because I DO NOT love. And I WILL NEVER love. I don't believe in feelings. And the one I believe less in is love. Such things does not exist to me. I shrug and keep on walking. If she's head over hills for that guy there is nothing I can do that can actually stop her.

It's been an awkwardly quiet walk home... Almost too quiet.

. . . . . . . . . .

A week or so later, everything has turned into more of a habit than anything else. We fight on the way to school, we part for periods, I wait for her in the front yard and when she waves to that guy, whose name I learnt to be Yamcha from some gossipers in my class, she comes over to me and we go home, sometimes fighting some more, finishing off what we had started in the morning, but most often walking quietly back to Capsule Corp. dome.

One of those days Bulma was overly late. I was wondering what that rascal Yamcha might be doing to her when she finally got out and was even more over-saddened than ever before. I wondered what's wrong with her. I secretly thought her boyfriend just dumped her and that I would have my interlocutor to fuel my energy with fights again, probably answering back with more hatred and feeling than before. Instead of that, she just walked slightly behind me, making me slowen my pace even further. I growled and wondered if she really got dumped.

"You look like someone died." I stated coldly watching as her expression never changed as she sighed deeply. She held out an ad for me and I took it rather harshly out of her grasp. A party?

"Mom and Dad will never let me go there." She announced, slumping depressed at a bench by the park we had to pass to get home. I look sceptically at her. Duh, how would they? When you just look at it you can already smell the alcohol and drugs that will be served there. Not to mention the clouded minds of the horny teenagers that once mesmerized by the effects of their drink would forget even their own names and would care less even if they raped anything. Mark my word - ANYTHING.

I continue staring down at the sheet. Did she really want to go there so badly?

"Do you want to go?" I find myself asking, shifting my eyes a little to see her having her head on her palms, which were supported securely on her knees as she had bent over them. I see her head get nodded slightly. I sigh and throw the ad back at her. Well, there's nothing I can lose now, is there? If not my bad ass image that is. "They'll surely consider it better if they know I would come with you." I form my words carefully into a sentence as not to give her more hopes about this than she should get but she is already so happy about it that she... she pulled me into another hug, just like those years ago when she was fighting over my jacket with that third grader. I wonder why I still remember that encounter.

"Thank you!" She whispers hoarsely in my ear, pressing her front body to mine even more. She meant no harm, she was just joyful. But the feeling of her developing chest against mine... Grrr, I get angered just by thinking of her like that. But I can't help it. I'm a man, like I already mentioned. That's why I pushed her back hastily and kept on striding down the street. I'll need a cold shower when I get home...

. . . . . . . . . .

As assumed, when I told mother and father that I would be going too, I didn't really put it that way but they are smart enough to get the hint, they said we could go if we are not too late back. I suppose that's a good thing too. If it gets too late, Bulma might really get raped and my father will never forgive me if I let that happen. Now that I think of it, neither will I forgive myself.

Ever since I have been back, I always get these strange impressions about everything... Mainly the ones that have to do with my sister... I have those mixed feelings like... Whenever that weakling idiot low-life Yamcha comes over to take her out, I feel this boiling rage in my veins that calms down as soon as I remember who I am thinking like this of. What's wrong with me anyway? I think I'm on some need of feminine attention that is NOT from my sister. In definite need for some feminine attention.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The party was much of an orgy rather than anything else. I can't say that I liked it, but I can't say that I hated it either. I told Bulma to be careful about everything and we parted so I could get the female attention I needed and to leave her alone with her boyfriend. She still struggles whenever I refer to that guy as to a 'boyfriend' of hers, but I don't want to hear another word about it. If only she could see herself from my place. No, it would be better for her not to; then she would know all of my secrets.

Not that I had much to veil.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"Hey, Vegeta." I hear someone almost purr my name out and I turn around and get majorly disappointed when I see that sick bitch Marron standing there with a cup of punch and a lavender lock tied around her pinkish skinned finger. She's trying to look seductive to me, I can tell. It's a little difficult to me to find her attractive as a woman when she is just like another version of my sister. I can tell she knows not that we're related with Bulma.

"What do you want?" I snap and take a swing of the beer mug I have been holding for a while now, but just got the reason to need alcohol. Not that it's that much of an alcohol anyway, but I'm a ninth grader, you still remember that, don't you? The insolent bitch keeps standing there, playing with her finger around her hair.

"Hey, I wonder if..." I'm not in the mood for this.

"I wonder which one is stupider: a microbe or you?" It is pretty much of a rhetorical question than an actual one. She blinks a few times, obviously not knowing even what a microbe is. I sigh in irritation and push her aside. "I thought you might get the hint after I brushed you off for the tenth time this year. And you know what the best part is? It had been just a month since you saw me." I add. That sounded stupid. I lowered myself to her level, I suppose. But maybe that would help her realize the situation. She looked really upset. It must have really gotten to her, finally.

"So you're not going to date me?" I throw my hands up in the air in defeat. She is far too stupid for me to bother with her. Wasting time on such brainless fools is far below my dignity.

I retreat from the scene I will cause with the bimbo and collapse on a couch. This house we have been invited in reminds me of the summer house by the beach our parents own. With the difference that this one is not by the beach and not nearly as nice as ours is. I have been so engulfed by my thoughts that I have not spotted the blonde on the love-seat by my right side. I relaxed back on the couch when a cold voice drew me out of it.

"What do you know? I never thought I would see someone like you on such occasion." My eyes drift over to the feminine voice I have heard. I feel my lips curl into a devious smirk.

"I could say the same for you, Queen Bitch." She smirks as well.

"I'm here out of sheer boredom, bastard, don't try hanging on that."

"Goes the same with me." I feel her eyes on me. Oh, so I got miss Cold interested. I chuckle inwardly. I guess I finally get that feminine attention. And I still have those confusing flashes about my sister's safety and what she's doing right now as I try to flirt.

"So, I take that you have no date for tonight? What's an attractive guy like you doing here with no date?" She leant closer to the place I have been sitting. I smirk back at her.

"I don't see anyone around you as well, Ice Princess." She grins wickedly at me at the way I refer to her. Whoa, I'm better at this than I thought originally.

"It's not too late to find a date, now isn't it?" Her wicked grin does not change. It still remains spread over her angel-like features on which only her eyes ruined with their devilish glint in them.

"I was thinking you would say that." She laughs. I have no time to enjoy the looks she is giving me as a someone pulls on my sleeve. I think it's Marron and I inhale a deep breath ready to yell at her that I am busy flirting when I note that the lavender haired girl is not Marron but my sister. She looks awful... Worse than I have ever seen her. She takes a brief look at the glaring Juuhachi at her for ruining her moment probably and her deep sapphire eyes shift back to me.

"Ve-Vegeta... I'm s-sorry to interrupt, but-"

"What happened to you?" I hear my voice stern and firm as it should be suited to a bigger brother. It's true, I am a mere year older, but I feel this year like ten! And... Well, I'm obviously a lot superior than her physically, so... You get the idea. Her lavender hair fell from behind her ear in her face as she sobbed.

"Vegeta... Please... Take me home....." She sobs again. I can see her breaking down. I have never seen her like that before. She looks all read in the face but I just know she isn't blushing. I see her knees buckle under her as she supports herself on the back of the couch I have been sitting on for a while ago. How much time has passed as I have been staring emptily into the nothing? I wonder that as I come around her and try to pick her up but she itches away from me.

"Wh-what are you doing?" She stutters and cowers away from my arms. I frown even deeper as I pull her back.

"Baka! [Idiot]" I scorn her. "You think you're in condition to walk?! Don't be ridiculous!" I grab her forcibly before she can get away again. I look expressionlessly at Juuhachi who is now staring blankly at the female in my arms. I turn around ready to begin my questionary about what happened when the cold voice reaches my ears again for the last time that night.

"She might not have been able to handle the alcohol or happened to take something really strong." I didn't pay attention to her, but I would consider that with the people from the Emergency.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I look at her face that is turned to the other side, refusing to face my chest. I look at her fallen form in my arms as I have her back and the area behind her knee-caps secured. She doesn't say a word but I can see the nauseous look she is making with her tilted head. I sigh and decide it will be better for both of us if I figured out exactly what happened.

"Brat," That's how I call her when I refer to her ever since we have been kids. Her body is not heavy, now I note. She's extremely light for someone her age. Especially since I am just an year older than her, but that doesn't really play a role if you really consider everything. Her eyes still refuse to lock with mine. "Brat." I say sharper this time, but she still doesn't look at me. Her stubbornness will get the better of my temper one of those days, but I'll do everything in my power for this day not to be today. "What happened to you?" No answer. "If it's the Scar face, I swear he is so going to get it when I come across of him." She suddenly stirs in my grasp.

"No!" She screams at me and then realizes what she's doing and relaxes back. "It wasn't Yamcha..." She defends him. Hm, I wonder if what she says is true. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to ask her little friends later. I bet that Marron bitch must know all of the gossips around here. "It wasn't Yamcha...." She repeats weakly and her gaze averts to something else instead of my face, somewhere we pass by.

"Did they drug you?" Her lavender head shakes furiously. "Did they try to make you drink more than you want?" I know very well that even I should not drink at that age. It's illegal. But at such parties is inevitable to dry a glass or two. Some do even more, but that's another topic. She nods. I cringe. Maybe Juuhachi was right... "Have you ever drunk before?" After some hesitation she slightly nods again, sinking in my arms. I sigh and look away. Well, there's nothing to be done about this. She'll get better after a nap.

And most likely suffer the hang-over after it.

Suddenly I have the feeling I hate this world and all that is sinful in it.

. . . . . . . . . . .

When we got home I was thankful for once that mom and dad weren't home. Otherwise they would be asking what happened and would've found out that Bulma drank. I wonder if they know of her dislike of alcohol. I shrugged the topic off as I approached her room.

I kicked the door open and put her in her bed, pulling the covers over her, handling her as a glass doll, as if I could break her at any point if I touched her harshly. Her dizzy clouded gaze locked with my dark onyx orbs and I stayed with her for a couple of minutes, after which I stood up and walked away, having the idea of throwing my clothes away in the washing machine as they stank of cigarettes. I hate cigarettes. They have this awful stench about themselves when their lighted that I detest so passionately.

Before I close the door I hear a 'thank you' from the bed. I smirk inwardly and think about asking her exactly why she said 'yes' when they made her drink in the morning. It would be quite a sight to see Bulma with a hang-over. I chuckle devilishly and close the door, taking off my shirt and sniffing at it before making a grimace. I HATE cigarettes.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I was thinking of making this a one chapter thing, but since fanfiction.net staff says "not bigger than 300kb" I won't make it bigger than 300KB. I'll just write the other chapters and upload them after that.

So, what do you think? Tell me if I should post the next chapter.
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