Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ So Many Steps to Death... ❯ Just Another Day: The Case of the Slumber Party Spat ( Chapter 3 )

Notes: Stealing some things from the anime series, Child's Toy---I have placed a character in this story that is like Child's Toy's heroine Sana-chan. She confuses the same Japanese sayings from the show (not feeling too original right now…), which are: 1.) "Let's split out guts." Means to vent our emotions and talk; 2.) "To have fish scales fall from your eyes." It's saying that you've had a great weight lifted from your shoulders.

*~§ Thanks for reading! §~*

~

Just a day, just a day, just an ordinary day…

She sat idly on a long extending branch in a tree that stretched its arm over the brink of a steep, sloped hill that looked a shade of vivid lime green in the bright morning sunlight. Her eyes sparkled like rare jewels as she sat up cross-legged and held her soft hands in front of her, splaying her seemingly spindly, spider-like fingertips. A furry, silky brown tail made lazy strokes behind her, tracing some unknown yet graceful pattern in the springtime air. Such peace in the air usually would've made her shun and sulk, but the only complaint was a gentle sigh from her pale-plink lips. The lady Saiyajin closed her eyes, thinking of the last moments she had with a certain Namekian…

~ (Flashback) ~

She watched him split into two forms and spar with himself. His copy was good, but his original was ANGRY. Angry at Sotari, angry at himsef… He beat the crap out of counterpart so badly that he could barely hover when the two merged again. Piccolo felt sick, a nausea swimming before his eyes. His entire body ached from his own thrashing. There wasn't enough time for him to heal himself. He could feel himself fading out of consciousness…

*It's all her fault…*

He began to fall, plunging down to the Earth below. Sotari's eyes widened. She hurriedly flew over there and caught him.

"Oof!" she grunted when her arms filled with an eight-foot Namekian.

She knew he was huge, but so heavy…

"Damn, Piccolo, you just like to make things difficult for yourself? DON'T YOU?"

Sotari gazed on his face for a few moments.

Such a handsome face…even for an alien.

She flew slowly, due to Piccolo's weight, until she finally came to the forest near Goku's house. Sotari set him down gently by a brook. Satisfied, she stood up, and saw Goku's house in the near distance.

*I could…No. I can't. Not tonight…*

A small smile graced her lips.

*Not tonight…*

She looked at the sleeping Piccolo. Kneeling down, she touched his face, feeling the smooth texture of his skin. As if sensing her touch, Piccolo tensed, then suddenly relaxed, breathing a deep sigh.

"You got lucky this time, bakayarou," she teased in mock revenge, "This time…"

The Saiyajin stood up and began walking off in another direction.

*Maybe next time…*

~ (End flashback) ~

"Maybe next time…"

Her eyelids opened and then half-closed themselves. An old spark of hating self-reproach lit in her eyes.

"I shouldn't have said that…Shouldn't have even saved him. Or anyone else."

She leaned on the branch, causing a serious bend in it. Her fingernails dug deep into the bark as she felt her human side slipping back behind the shadow of evil. Deep inside, she could feel the desperate thrashing of a trapped animal, the intensity…

No, not again…!

There was a shudder, and she lifted her eyes up to the sky once more. The quiet, brooding, evil energy cursed rapidly in her veins. She gripped the branch again, her nails digging even deeper, and the Saiyajin side of her rejoiced at its revival. Before she was even conscious of it, she could already hear that familiar click in her mind, then the ever-present voice, commanding and controlling, spoke.

*Back to normal, eh, mei (niece)?*

No immediate response was uttered. The Saiyajin woman could almost swear she heard a chuckle in her head. She scowled as she felt her fingers drive deep through the bark.

"What do you want now," she said forcefully, her voice full of venom.

*You have a mission, mei. And you have failed me…*

'Mei' felt her chest tighten with hatred. If only that voice had a body, for her hands were itching for blood…

"It was only a misunderstanding," she said with forced control, feeling her ki rise a little, "A mere, little…misunderstanding…"

*…Is that the only thing…?*

"…Yes…"

The voice didn't seem to note the hesitation in her voice.

*…I can only hope, mei, that you do not fail me again. Though I am not here, I can still control you…Your every waking thought is of my creation, and you will do as I say.*

She could hear the emphasis of ownership. A sharp snap of bark rang though the air, and she leaned dangerously forward.

"I will not…" she said quite mechanically, "…Fail you…"

There was a hesitation.

"…Master…"

*Good.*

A great amount of satisfaction could be heard in that voice. The voice's niece, however, was furious. Another bit of weight on the broken limb and it fell off the tree altogether with a decided final crack. The woman Saiyajin hovered in the air, allowing herself to be swallowed by the hot feeling waves of ki. Her distant eyes looked perfectly spiteful, but a tinge of sadness edged her eyes. She could almost feeling like crying if she wasn't so worried looking weak. Even by herself, there was that feeling… A pale white hand brushed against her dry cheek, wiping away an imaginary tear.

"Stupid," she told herself, "You don't have tears…"

Another few moments passed before she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be taken over, permitting her own ki to take life and sweep her to whatever destination the voice in her head desired. She had no right of will in this matter. The only reason why she was there was because she alone possessed what so few people did…Power. A frightful word in its own right; Pain to one is happiness to another…

Sotari reopened her eyes as she felt her human side surface briefly for an argument. She listlessly said something aloud to counter, but it wasn't long before she could feel her Saiyajin half beat it down again. A clash of human and Saiyajin blood, two different personalities and feelings…No telling if one would succumb to another, though neither really got full control of their host. It was like having two different diseases at once. The half-Saiyajin sighed, reflecting a brief thought.

Who would win in the end?

She brushed this aside. It wasn't worth thinking about. Besides, there were other businesses to attend to…

Piccolo…

The image of the proud Namekian instantly bobbed up in her mind. A flush of pink crept on her cheeks. Her human side saw its chance and grabbed at its owner's feelings. Sotari soon found herself sighing again and thinking extremely dumb thoughts…Before the Saiyajin half could revert back to business.

Piccolo…Next time, next time…Waiting is stupid. I can hardly hold my fingers to count the shaking days…

~

Gohan sighed, relaxing into his cross-legged position and shaking his head. It was as plain as day. Piccolo…was unhappy. The thought shook Gohan quite considerably. For the past few weeks, he had seen the changes in his former teacher. He had increased his visits to the Son House, never staying long but long enough to wait for Gohan to go and spar. The spars, thought Gohan as he painfully rubbed a bruise, were harder than he ever remembered. It was as if Piccolo was using Gohan for more of a practice dummy than a flesh-and-blood partner.

Then there were the dreams…Piccolo himself had willingly (a surprise itself!) told him. Namekians never dream, least of all a former Demon King…They were visions, Piccolo had said, but he had had real, living, breathing dreams… They were never the same every night, but there was always that woman, always very high above his head on cliff or mountain of some sort. She sometimes looked at him darkly, but she never spoke or went near him. Sometimes there would be a small, hidden smile gracing her small lips, but a smirk would show every once in a while, like she knew something secretive. Other times she'd hold that menacing sheath in her hand or meditating peacefully during a strong wind or storm. But she always there, always holding back and her eyes seeming to be on the brink of tears, for they seemed so full of happiness to see him…

But slightly more disturbing than the dreams was one particular visit Piccolo paid to the Son House, taken place two weeks after the Kami Lookout incident. It had been the middle of the night, Gohan remembered. He himself had been able to sleep, so he had stayed up in his room sitting on the window seat, fingered a farewell present Videl had left for him in sealed envelope. His eyes had been reading over and over the letter that she had left him, when suddenly, that a pair of shining black eyes had appeared at the window. Gohan recalled nearly falling out of the window seat when he had finally recognized it was Piccolo. He had quickly slid open the window, but before he had been able to even start to murmur his apologies, his former sensei had already flown into the room.

"Gohan," he had said, "Get me some fruit."

"What?" Gohan had replied, raising both eyebrows and looking extremely stunned (Piccolo doesn't even eat!! What's the matter with him!?).

"You heard me!"

"W-well…What kind?"

"I don't know!"

Indeed, Gohan had hurriedly gone downstairs and fetched a varied armload of fruit: strawberries, crystal pears, Fuji apples, plumcots, and blueberries… When he did finally manage to stagger back into his room without dropping anything, his mouth had fallen open and had quickly dumped everything on his bed, for he was shocked so. Piccolo had been calmly sitting cross-legged on the window seat, the moonlight at his back, reading Videl's letter to Gohan.

Immediately, Gohan had turned beet red and was sorely tempted to snatch the letter back, but he had known better than to do so. Piccolo hadn't seemed to notice him, and when he had finished reading, he had tossed the letter on the floor. Gohan had instantly lunged at it and had tucked it under his mattress. After securing it, he had dared himself throw a quick glare at his sensei. Again, Piccolo hadn't even blinked. The boy had been astounded. He had tried glowering at him a second time. That time, however, Piccolo had reacted, somewhat in a regular, Piccolo-like fashion.

"You want your lungs ripped out, boy?"

Gohan had quickly shaken his head, having never heard that threat before, and not wanting it acted out. Satisfied, Piccolo had given a quick grunt, a small acknowledgment for Gohan to ease up. He hadn't. The poor boy had been too curious to relax. Gohan had watched with keen interest as Piccolo held up Videl's present to Gohan up to the moonlight. It had been one of the two crystals from her necklace, and it had glistened blue in the soft nightly light. Again, the small boy had been enticed to snatch the affectionate thing away. He remembered taking one step before he was stopped again.

"You and…Videl," he had said quite slowly in a very confused, "You…love each other?"

There wasn't another time Gohan had never felt so uncomfortable. He had stuttered and sputtered until he had managed to say a little lamely: "Y-yeah…I guess so…"

Piccolo had looked pained. It had been a strange look for his face, and Gohan wasn't used to seeing it. Still, he had known what Piccolo meant.

"Yes," he had said again, more assured, "Yes, we do."

"How?"

Yet again, Gohan hadn't known what to say.

"I don't know," he had said, his face flushing a little, "We just do."

The former Demon King had grunted unsatisfactorily.

"You didn't tell each other?"

"No need to…"

"Where is she now then?"

Gohan had lifted his chin, thinking Piccolo slightly impertinent.

"Looking for her parents…And I know how important it is for her, Piccolo."

The latter hadn't say anything.

"The night she left I wanted her to stay," Gohan had said further, "I tried convincing her, but she was…"

"I have no sympathy for either of you," bluntly interrupted Piccolo had.

The boy had drawn himself up. Where his heart was concerned, this had been a typical Gohan reaction.

"We don't need it," he had replied shortly, in a tone he had never used before, "Especially yours. What do you know?"

Piccolo had stood up to his full height and his face screwed up in anger. He had reached down and grabbed the front of Gohan's shirt, lifting him high in the air. Sorry as the boy had been for his words, he hadn't dared to retract his words. No, the son of Piccolo Daimao wasn't one to forgive so easily… Gohan had closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the expected blow. When it didn't come, he had opened his eyes and blinked. That pained expression was back on Piccolo's face, looking more sorrowful close up. The Namekian sighed heavily and put Gohan back on the floor. He then marched over to the bed, grabbed a Fuji apple, and then flew out the window back into the enveloping darkness.

"Humans," Gohan had heard him mutter with a forceful breath.

More clearly afterwards, Gohan had heard his former sensei spar with his split forms with ki beams and such. He himself hadn't slept easy since then. How could he? With his friend acting so strangely…

"It's that stupid Saiyajin woman," the half-Saiyajin said under his breath, "What has she done to him?"

He watched now as Piccolo marched over to him in a fitful anger.

"Let's spar," he barked at Gohan, causing the boy to cringe slightly.

Almost immediately the latter leapt up. Piccolo scowled at him and rose in the air, powering up. A little reluctantly, Gohan did the same.

"Whatever this means," the latter muttered as he watched Piccolo form a ki ball, "I hope it goes away…"

~

Bulma stood in front of her full-length mirror, examining herself for a date with Yamcha. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt and fixed her hair again. Then she proceeded to undo her hair, pick out another outfit, do her hair again, and look in the mirror to only repeat the process all over again. This was typical for Bulma, especially with Yamcha on her mind. Finally, after her final inspection, Bulma was satisfied with herself.

However, something didn't seem right. It was as if the skirt on her outfit didn't match with the shoes, or she forgot to paint her nails perfectly. Bulma looked into the mirror again. No, her outfit was flawless, with no mistakes: everything matched and in order. But Bulma still wasn't pleased. What was it? What was wrong? However, Bulma didn't have much time to think about it; the sound of a car honked outside her window.

"Coming, Yamcha!" she called, her look still lingering on the image reflecting in the mirror.

The car honk sounded again, with impatience.

"OKAY, I'M COMING!!!" yelled Bulma, with equal impatience, and stomping her way to the balcony.

She slid open the balcony-door and walked to the railing with an air of a super model. Yamcha stood, leaning against his white hovercar, looking up at her.

"Hey, babe, you look hotter than usual," said Yamcha, raising an eyebrow with interest.

Hmph. That's what he always to says to me---and every girl he chances to flirt with, thought Bulma rather irritatingly, a bitter look on her face.

She watched as Yamcha kept shifting his weight restlessly from foot to foot and looking down at the ground, avoiding eye contact with Bulma: a sure sign that he was hiding something.

"Come on, babe, we'll miss the movie if you don't hurry up," said Yamcha looking at his watch.

Bulma watched with pleasing content as Yamcha squirmed under her sharp surveillance.

"You're hiding something, aren't you?" she stated suddenly, her voice accusing and sharp.

"What are you talking about," said Yamcha uneasily, "You know I can't hide anything from you, babe…"

"Shut up, baka, I know perfectly well what you're up to," said Bulma, her eyes narrowing on Yamcha as anger began to build within her, "I know what you doing. You wanna break up with me, don't you, only you wanted to do it front of my face instead of on the phone."

"Bull! T...that's not it, Bulma, I..."

"I SAID SHUT UP."

Silence followed. Finally, Yamcha looked at Bulma squarely in the eye.

"Okay, I admit it," he said flatly, "You're right. I just don't think it's working out, Bulma."

More silence. Bulma kept looking at Yamcha, who was looking down at the ground again, so it was hard to hear what he said next.

"I...I just want you to be happy, Bulma, and I don't think that happiness would be with me... I think we'd just be better off if we were friends..."

Bulma's rage finally blew up.

"HOW DARE YOU TELL A DIRTY, STINKING LIE LIKE THAT TO ME!!!!" she screeched at the top of her lungs at Yamcha, who cringed, "THAT'S THE WORST LOAD OF CRAP I'VE EVER HEARD FROM YOU, YAMCHA, AND YOU KNOW IT!!!"

"But..." began Yamcha's weak defense.

"BUT, MY ASS, YOU BAKAYAROU!!! DON'T YOU GO AROUND SAYING THAT TO ME!!!!"

Bulma paused her screaming tirade. She was sure that the whole country could hear her, but she didn't care. Then, for the next ten minutes, she continued the seemingly endless verbal assault on Yamcha. She continued firing wave after wave of unprintable words and insults at him until finally, after working herself up to such a state and tears spilling out of her eyes, and her day totally ruined, she stormed inside, slamming the balcony door.

Yamcha looked up again and hesitantly pulled the earplugs out of his ears, unsure if Bulma was going to come out again and yell at him some more. A girl with purple hair timidly peeked out from the backseat of his hovercar.

"Is she gone?" she squeaked, pulling some ear plugs out of her ears.

"Yep, she's gone," replied Yamcha after a few minutes, looking up at the balcony door.

-§-

Inside, Bulma lay on her bed, sobbing. She looked like a mess, but she didn't care. Racing through her mind were just thoughts of Yamcha this, Yamcha that; memories of what they used to do together. He was so charming, so thoughtful, so… Bulma sniffled. But somehow, those memories always ended with Bulma yelling at Yamcha for flirting with another girl.

Bulma frowned through her tears at the most recent incident. She and Yamcha had gone to an amusement park last week, and Yamcha wanted to go on the roller coaster. It had so many twists, turns, and hills, that Bulma was afraid to get sick, so Yamcha abandoned Bulma by the ice cream stand, holding both their snow cones.

Her last glimpse of Yamcha before his ride on the roller coaster started, was he slyly putting both his arms around two twin girls sitting next to him on both sides. Bulma recalled that after the ride, she had slapped Yamcha so hard that some passerby thought someone had won the grand prize at the Cactus of Strength. Bulma managed a small smile.

It was bound to be over anyway.

However, this comforting thought didn't last very long. Instead, Bulma sat up and bawled so loud that Mrs. Briefs came running up to Bulma's door. She knocked with concern for her daughter written all over her face.

"Bulma, honey," she called, her voice slightly muffled coming through the door, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bulma barely managed to say in her normal voice, "But bring me a some double gin…"

"Um, okay, honey."

Mrs. Briefs turned around to leave for the downstairs to continue her dusting. As soon as Bulma heard her mother go away, she picked up the phone and dialed a number. A raspy-sounding voice of a middle-aged woman at the other end said: "Hi, Parla's Junk Food Eatery…"

"Right," interrupted Bulma tearfully, "I'd like…"

"Somebody break up with ya, sweetie?" said the voice at the other end.

"Yes!" Bulma said, then told the person all the details.

Every once in a while, Bulma could sense the woman nodding sympathetically and saying soothing things.

"…You want to order the Italian pick-me-up cake, too, sweetie?"

"Yes!" said Bulma.

"Okay, that's one medium half-cheese, half-vegetarian pizza, one kid's Hawaiian pizza, one jumbo Pepsi, two medium Coca-Colas, one whole carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream, two ice cream sundaes with raspberry and chocolate sauce…"

Bulma nodded and said quite tearfully, "Just deliver it to the Capsule Corp. mansion!"

The lady at the other seemed to smile.

"Don't worry, sweetie, you'll get over him soon enough."

"…*sniff* I hope you're right…Thanks ever so much."

"No problem, my daughter's just…"

There was a shout in the backround.

"Uh-oh…Gotta go soon, sweetie. Boss looks mad. You should see…Well, another time, sweetie. That'll be $65.89, by the way."

"*sniff*…Thanks again…"

-§-

By dusk, Bulma was still shut up in her room, still crying fresh tears. The makeup on her face was all cleaned up, her hair looking slightly neater, and her clothes changed, but Bulma was still heart-stricken. Normally, when Bulma was a mood like this, she'd call up Yamcha, but he usually made her feel worse about it anyway and this concerned him, so Bulma couldn't do that. By chance, she looked out the balcony window. Her room had a clear view of the dome-shaped training room, where nowadays, Vegeta was training beyond his hardest to become a Super Saiyajin, like Goku, or what Vegeta called him, Kakarott. Bulma sniffed.

"What on Earth does he do in there all day," she wondered out loud as she wrote in her diary.

Inside the training room, Vegeta began to charge up his best attack. Concentrating on the golden ball of energy forming in his hands, Vegeta gave a sideways glance to the numerous little, floating balls in the air. He smirked at the thought of Mr. Briefs, a mere human being, able to create something as handy as these little robots for training. They were just so useful, those humans. Vegeta's smirk disappeared as his thoughts unexpectedly turned to someone else in the Briefs family: Bulma. What about her? Vegeta actually stopped charging the ball of energy to think.

What about her?

Suddenly realizing he lost concentration, Vegeta swore at himself for doing so, over such a minor matter. A human like Bulma didn't mean anything to him… Did it? True, she, like her father, could create training robots like these to make him into a Super Saiyajin, but was there anything more? Like when she watched him battle that green-haired freak on Planet Namek, even though he could easily destroy her, like the weakling she was…? Was there anything more to Bulma than just her hot temper and absolute stubbornness? Vegeta's thoughts cursed through his mind as he once again began to focus his energy…

-§-

"Bulma, honey, supper's ready," said Mrs. Briefs, who was, once again, outside of Bulma's door.

"I'm not hungry…" replied Bulma, her eyes still focused on the dome structure outside.

"Okay, then honey, come down when you feel like it," responded Mrs. Briefs as she once again descended down the stairs.

Suddenly, there was a huge explosion sounding outside that caused the ground to shake.

"It's an earthquake!" screamed Mrs. Briefs, missing a step on the stairs and tumbling to the bottom.

"The training room…!" whispered Bulma, who had just witnessed from her window, the destruction of the dome structure outside.

At first, she made no reaction. There wasn't anyone in there, was there? Maybe there had been a short circuit of some kind and triggered the gravity machine to haywire and… Then Bulma gasped at an afterthought in her mind.

"Vegeta…!"

-§-

"VEGETA!!!!!!!" screamed Bulma, literally flying down the stairs from her bedroom, vaulting over her mother on the floor, and out the side door.

You better not be hurt, baka!!

Blinking with the setting sun in her eyes, Bulma rushed over to the giant wreckage of what used to be the training room. Frantically searching for Vegeta with a will of a madwoman, she picked her way through pieces of metal and circuits. And she was doing all this wearing only spandex shorts, sandals, and a loose tank top.

"WHERE ARE YOU!?!?" she yelled, half-hoping Vegeta would hear here.

Nothing and no one answered her, save for maybe some birds her voice disturbed from a tree nearby. Bulma grew pink in the face with anger.

Maybe he isn't here at all, thought Bulma angrily; Beast is probably behind a tree or something…

Something moved slightly behind an enormous something that almost looked like the remains of the gravity machine. Bulma gasped. It was Vegeta's leg! Tears suddenly began welling up in her eyes, for relief, but she wiped them away before she even realized she had them.

"Vegeta!" Bulma cried as she began pulling away the debris.

"Leave me alone, woman," muttered the battered-up Vegeta as Bulma finally succeeded in uncovering him, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Vegeta, and you know it!," snapped Bulma, her hands on her hips and her face slowly turning into a pout.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Vegeta winced in pain as Bulma tried to help him up. He shrugged her supporting arm away and almost at once, he fell down. Bulma smiled slightly in satisfaction with that "I-told-you-so" look on her face.

"Told ya so," she told him, her arms crossed now, "Do that anymore and you'll be in worse pain than you are now."

"Onna!" snapped Vegeta, one of his eyes swollen shut while looking up at Bulma, "Shut up."

"Well, it's true!" replied Bulma in an almost motherly way, "Just look at yourself! You're in no condition of train for at least a few weeks! I can tell you've…"

But Vegeta wasn't listening while he tried to get up again. He winced. Somewhat unwillingly, he looked at him arm. His motion had caused fresh blood to stream from wounds in his shoulder, elbow, and hand. Examining the rest of his body, Vegeta silently had to admit that Bulma was right. Defeated, he held up his hand to Bulma, whose reaction was total surprise. A silence of a few moments followed before Vegeta spoke to Bulma.

"Aren't you going to help me up," he smirked, "Bulma."

Bulma's expression softened. She even almost saw Vegeta wink at her with his good eye. Maybe he wasn't such a baka after all.

-§-

"Lacerations on his arms, chest, legs, and even on his forehead," summed up Dr. Briefs to Bulma, who was sitting by Vegeta's bed side, "But no broken bones, concussions, or fractures fortunately. He's stronger than he looks. He should get better within one to three weeks."

"What do you mean, 'one to three weeks…!?" Vegeta weakly complained from under the sheets, bandages covering his injuries, "Don't you realize how much training I'll miss out!? I'm already behind Kakarott and…"

"You heard what he said, Vegeta!" cut in Bulma, her face flushing slightly, "So get used to waiting around in bed while you get better!!"

"But I'm a Saiyajin, woman! Our wounds heal more quickly than you think!"

"I don't care about your stupid heritage, ass, I care about you!"

"Well, I don't care about you, so why…"

"We're just trying to help, so I think…"

Mr. Briefs smiled as he turned his back on the squabbling couple to go have some dinner.

"I think I'll leave you two alone…" he murmured as he slowly closed the door.

Bulma and Vegeta hadn't noticed Mr. Briefs leaving, let alone anything else going on outside. Even if you dropped a bomb outside the window at the moment, they wouldn't have cared; they were just too concerned with their argument. By now, in a space of a few seconds, the subject had shifted from Vegeta's condition to Bulma's love life.

"… Why do you go out with that jerk Yamcha anyway!?" yelled Vegeta.

"N…nani!?!? What do you know about me and Yamcha!?" snapped Bulma, slightly caught off guard.

"Because you some sort of thing to do with him today, didn't you? I can tell, because I could smell your perfume all the way from the training room, woman; it reeked like hell!"

"Well…" Bulma trailed off, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, "I did… But… We broke up… [And my perfume does not stink!]"

Vegeta was silent. Bulma was now shaking and sobbing in her hands: an instant replay of the afternoon's event. After a tense minute, Vegeta put a hand on one of Bulma's. Bulma abruptly stopped her crying to stare at him. His coal black eyes almost twinkled as he spoke as gently as he could to her.

"Stupid Onna…" he said a little mockingly, "You're not alone in that, you know."

Bulma was speechless, almost in shock. Vegeta had never acted this way towards her before. So she just sat in her chair; mouth slightly open, her blue eyes wide, and her hand in Vegeta's, who seemed surprisingly sincere, especially for someone of his character. His hand still holding Bulma's, he painfully sat up. After doing so, Vegeta looked Bulma in the eye, as if the matter he was to speak was of life-and-death importance.

"Bulma," he said, a bit startled at himself, "I…I understand how you feel."

Bulma's heart took another jump.

Vegeta!?

"But…" began Bulma, her eyes casting downwards a little shyly, "…how could you know…?"

"…How you feel?" finished Vegeta, "I've never told anyone about my love life, Onna…"

"Sounds like you're…"

"I'm not going to, Onna!" Vegeta snapped suddenly, the moment of tenderness gone, "It's just…"

He took away his hand, and Bulma's hand felt cold once more. The proud Saiyajin flopped himself back on the pillows and turned away on his side, painful as it was.

"What's the matter with you anyway, Vegeta!" Bulma said, her eyes flashing and her face flushing, "You honestly infuriate me!!! Why are you so…so…difficult!! I just don't understand you!"

"Same here," muttered Vegeta, and Bulma glared at him.

"Fine," she said in a sarcastic tone, "That's two things we have in common. Anything else?"

"We both," said Vegeta a little thoughtfully, "…Have very short tempers…And we both know Kakarotto. And we…hate each other…"

"Well…"

Bulma eyed him curiously.

"Then…I guess…You aren't so bad, Vegeta…"

~

Late that night, Gohan was relieved of his sores with a good, long soak in a steaming bath outside under the stars. Chi Chi shook her in disapproval and wagged a finger at her only son.

"That Piccolo!" she said, and Gohan started to roll his eyes, "Don't roll your eyes at me, young man! Honestly! Ever since that…that…alien has started his visits you've been terrible!! You neglect your…"

Gohan sat up, his face indignant.

"Alien?" he repeated.

Chi Chi looked at her son in surprise.

"He is, isn't he?" she said, her voice wavering slightly, "A Normikin or something like that."

"Namekian," said Gohan with exasperation, "Or if you want a more native spelling, 'Namekjin'."

His mother looked more startled than ever.

"You never been like this before, Gohan," she said a little mournfully, "Before that whole Garlic Jr. deal, you were a perfect angel!! Now look what Goku and his…"

Gohan disappeared under a very thick sheet of water, making his mother's voice quite incomprehensible to him. Chi Chi gave an irritated sigh and left for the house in a huff, only taking the time to call out to her son: "Don't take too long in the tub, Gohan!"

Only a gurgle of bubbles answered her. She half-slammed the front door in her agitated state and headed towards the linen closet for sorting. As far as that, nothing was passed between them for some time. The half-Saiyajin himself stayed awhile in the tub while his mother whizzed about in her cleaning fit, first tackling the linen closet, then downstairs for dishes, living room for dusting…

"That boy…"

It was a good hour before Gohan started to actually wash up, having enjoyed the bath for the most warm part of the fire's life below his tub, which was now starting to dwindle a little. He leaned out of the tub, his skin shining white against starlight, and snatched the scrubbing brush. As he began to lather, a swarm of pink bubbles unexpectedly gurgled up in front of him. The half-Saiyajin stared at the spot. He hadn't done anything.

Anything capable of defying explanation interested Gohan, and once more he dove under the surface. His blinked once under. Twice… Nothing. Just as he was satisfied enough to return for a breath, a pair of bright pink eyes materialized and winked at him. Gohan's eyes widened so much it hurt. He hurriedly pushed up with his feet and threw his head back, breathing deeply and hard.

"Bon Dieu!" he exclaimed in French, then, "What was that!?"

Another cloud of bubbles replied, a female-sounding voice shouting under the surface. Suddenly, like shotgun, a pair of furry pink paws with black spots raised in the air and grabbed hold of Gohan's neck. You could imagine the poor boy's face when a pull brought up to the surface a smiling, young girl's face with sopping wet, flaming electric pink hair. Gohan turned a very deep shade of red. The girl giggled and smiled even wider, opening her bright, shining eyes.

"Hi there!" she said, "Do you know where I can find Piccolo-sama?"

"…"

"Who are you?" she said without a hitch, "I'm the Little Kitty Love Nut Goddess! But you can call me Futomi if you want (*wink*)!"

"…"

A puff of green smoke billowed out beside the tub, revealing a very small boy with spiky green hair. His bright blue eyes twinkled fitfully as he dusted off an imaginary speck off the rolled-up sleeve of his white shirt. The rest of his attire was black: black suspenders, black pants, black tie, and black shoes. He coughed a little and held a clipboard tightly in his grip while an ink pen balanced expertly tucked behind his ear.

"And this is Jito!" said L.K.L.N.G. waving a pink paw at him, "My best friend!"

"Does he know anything about Piccolo?" said the boy, looking at Gohan with doubtful face, "That Namekian's harder to find than…"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" shrieked Gohan, leaping out from the tub and running like lightning to the house, not bothering with a towel or anything.

Futomi squealed and covered her eyes, though obviously delighted at the sight of Gohan's wet butt in the starlight. Jito rolled his eyes and snorted.

"You just had to be in the tub, didn't you?" he accused her as she rose, cross-legged and fully clothed, from the tub.

"W-w-we-e-ell," she said, dragging the word out as she tossed aside the 'paws' and wrung a bit of her hair.

"He's eight for God's sake! You're at least a few thousand years old! How sick can…"

"Oh, Jito! It was only a joke!" interrupted Futomi as she grabbed Gohan's abandoned towel and dried her hair.

Jito still shook his head with his arms crossed. A pout came across Futomi's face.

"You're such a rotten sport, Jito!" she said bitterly, sticking her tongue out at him, "I don't see why they made you my assistant! You don't know anything!"

"I know how to file papers," said Jito curtly, one of his eyebrows twitching, "And write up the reports for King Enma and the…"

"Oh, such unpleasantness!"

"Those things are necessary, Futomi, if you want to become a licensed love goddess…"

"Ooooh!" cried Futomi, clasping her hands and her eyes shining like stars, "I've always wanted to be a licensed love goddess!! Not having to always ask Sensei for permission and all those useless field assignment forms…"

"…Which I fill out!!" barked Jito.

"What's the matter with you, Jito!" said Futomi, her eyes blazing, "If you have a problem, split your butt!"

Jito's jaw dropped, and Futomi beamed at him.

"WHAT!?!?!?!? Split your butt!!!"

"Not me!" said Futomi in her bell-like voice; "You're the one with the problem! Don't need to split mine, thank you very much!"

"It's split our guts, not butts!" shrieked Jito, his face turning pink, "What kind of…"

"Never mind!" cut in Futomi, waving a hand at him, "You've had your eyes fall from fish scales!"

"HUH!?!?"

"The great weight lifted from your shoulders at last!!" proclaimed Futomi, spreading her arms and waving them about as a sparkling, pink curtain of stars surrounded them in a mist-like way as fireworks exploded above their heads, "Aren't you FREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!"

"…"

A few seconds passed before the bright display subsided. Futomi lowered her arms.

"Do you want to lie down?" ventured Jito uneasily, "And you got the saying wrong again…It's to have fish scales fall from your eyes…"

"Meow!" replied Futomi, slipping on her cat-paw gloves again and pawing the ground as whiskers mysteriously grew on her face, "Meow! Let's go matchmaking!!"

She leapt up in the air and flew towards the front door of the Son House. Jito slapped his forehead with his hand.

"Good God…"

Before he could even get any near her, Futomi had rung the doorbell. As if fascinated by the ring, she pressed it again and again. It was when Jito managed to wrestle her from the button when there was a cautious creak of a door. Futomi immediately shoved Jito out of the way and put on her brightest, most dazzling smile she could muster.

"HHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!" she screeched in a voice shrill enough to make Jito's teeth grind, "I'M THE LITTLE KITTY LOVE NUT GODDESS AND THIS IS MY FRIEND JITO AND WE'VE COME TO ASK ABOUT PICCOLO THE NAMEKIAN ON THIS PLANET NOT THE ONE ON TOP OF KAMI'S LOOKOUT BECAUSE WE ALREADY KNOW THAT'S KAMI AND WELL ANYWAY WE WANT TO SEE WHERE PICCOLO IS BECAUSE WE NEED TO SEE HIM AND WE…"

Chi Chi gave a short scream and slammed the door. Undaunted, Futomi knocked again, crazy as she was…She knocked again…And again… Her friend saw the hazardous shadow behind the door and managed to pull her away before Chi Chi appeared again---with frying pan in one hand and a rolling pin in the other. High in the air and well away from Chi Chi's reach, Jito commenced to a stern lecture to Futomi, who only giggled and laughed at Jito's warnings.

"Silly Jito!" she said, "You're worked up about nothing!"

"NOTHING!?!?" Jito yelled, waving a fist at her, "I've half a mind to punch you just now, Futomi! We haven't got any closer to finding Piccolo with you getting us…"

There was another spasm of laughter from Futomi. Jito turned a dangerous shade of red and his electric blue eyes were as black as thunder.

"Will you listen to me!!" he hollered in her face and shaking her shoulder, "We need…"

"Jito!!"

"I said…!"

"No! Jito!" shouted Futomi desperately, frantically waving her arm at something, "THERE!! PICCOLO-SAMA!!"

Jito stole a look, and Futomi smiled widely.

"Where? I don't…"

She pecked him on the cheek and Jito jerked his head at her, wearing a mixed expression of shock and fury.

"What the devil, Futomi, I ought to…"

His eyes widened as they stared past her grinning face. He pushed her aside and flew downwards, and Futomi followed him. They flew on for some miles until they had come what Jito had seen. For there, just at the crest of a treeless hill, was Piccolo.

~

A pair of eyes twinkled in the starlight, a malicious glint of delight in them. Their gaze was fixed on an open window in the upper floors of Capsule Corp. The eyes rose, along with their owner, a shapely and shadowy figure, obviously female and with a fixed purpose… She rose in the air and flew up the window, peeking in. Yes, it was the one she wanted… The woman glided in, eyeing with pleasure at a certain sleeping figure in a double bed tucked quite cozily in the corner. Then, the figure turned over, pulling the blanket tighter over himself, and the woman's Saiyajin tail twitched excitedly. Here!

Vegeta…How long it has been…

She strode up to the bed, her gloved hand raised. Her round, blue eyes shone with a strange, lustful glimmer. The slumbering prince seemed to sense her, and moved uneasily in his sleep. Instantly the sparkle in her eyes faded as she retracted her hand, taking care to lower her ki, which gave away much more than her presence… Vegeta seemed to wake up, and the women took half a step back, being not afraid, but on high alert. Then---it was then that she saw her---an object to be hated for that ever-present entirety of hers…

Hideous…

Bulma rolled over on top of Vegeta, snoring softly. Her hand felt his strong, bare chest, and she relaxed. She was having one of those dreams again…One of those when she was desperately running and looking for something terribly important, but she didn't know what it was, and someone---or something---huge and powerful, was towering above her with a gigantic dagger or sword above Bulma's head. Of course, it was all a dream, but there was a chance---minute as it was---that it just might possibly be real…

Why, right at this moment, she could see that figure above her, no longer dangling a sword or a dagger above her head, but a small, shiny knife with a simple gold handle. It looked almost like a toy or a scalpel… Bulma's eyes widened as she saw a flash, the blended streak of something silver being thrust down…Down on her head… Bulma screamed in her subconscious, as well as for real. She forced her eyes open in the darkness and sat up, her face flushed. The woman whipped her head to her right, at Vegeta. His back was to her, seeming to be struggling with something…

"Onna!" he snapped, looking briefly over his shoulder, "Get away…"

Bulma's eyes popped open as the frowning face of the figure in her dream suddenly appeared over Vegeta's shoulder, scowling even more so when she saw Bulma. The latter wildly searched around, and gasped. Her hand crept cautiously over the handle of the knife, whose blade was shining innocently in the dim starlight. No blood was stained on either the bed or the knife. Bulma noted though, with some astonishment and relief, that the corner of her pillow had been slashed. If it hadn't been for Vegeta… She looked to see the latter on the floor now, pinning the assailant to the carpet, and seeing his face when the prince got his first good look at her…

"Yamako!?" he cried out in surprise, and nearly let himself relax his grip, but his eyes hardened again in time.

The one called Yamako scowled and eased her struggle. She gave a queer grin at Vegeta.

"Yes," she replied with some unknown self-satisfaction, "I am Yamako…It has been a long time, hasn't it, Vegeta-san?"

"Don't call me that," snarled Vegeta venomously, "It's been over for some time now…"

"What?" Bulma entered the conversation, edging towards the side of the bed, "What happened?"

Yamako took one look at Bulma and chuckled.

"I see you haven't completely lost your touch…"

"Silence, woman!" Vegeta shouted.

"What?" Bulma said, her curiosity not completely appeased, "Yamako?"

"You see," began Yamako, but Vegeta interrupted her, jerking his chin towards Bulma.

"Onna! I thought I told you to leave!"

Bulma drew herself up.

"I have a right to know, Vegeta! What does this woman---Yamako---have to do with…"

Her eyes suddenly widened as she saw something twitch in the starlight.

"What the hell…"

Yamako's smirk was not missed. She wiggled her tail out from beneath her and proudly swung it around her side to show that it was real.

"A female Saiyajin!? But that…"

Bulma's sentenced trailed off. Yamako smiled again, a queer enough one to unnerve Bulma quite considerably.

"There are no female Saiyajins, is that what puzzles you? You thought that all the male Saiyajins cloned themselves because all the females were…"

"…Weak," finished Bulma quietly, for she knew, because Vegeta had told her, "But Vegeta…He said…"

Yamako chuckled.

"I…I have quite a different story…Sometime that connects me and Vegeta quite nicely…"

Bulma's eyes widened, then looked accusingly at Vegeta.

"You didn't use to…" she began, but Vegeta cut into her sentences.

"A few times, Onna," he admitted grudgingly, "We were almost---what you humans call---'engaged' at one time or another, but…"

"That's not what I was going to say," said Bulma coldly, then a bit dryly, "But I'm glad you told me, Vegeta."

Vegeta looked like he wanted to slap himself. Meanwhile, he had relaxed his grip. Yamako kneed him and promptly flew out the window. Recovering quickly, Vegeta got up and threw a quick scowl at Bulma before flying out the window in his exercise shorts and white boots. Bulma went to the window and glared at him. What cheek! She hastily put on some clothes and fetched a hoi-poi capsule from one of her drawers. Pressing the cap, she tossed it out the window before it transformed into a helicopter. Then, gathering some misc. belongings to fix her hair on the way, she jumped out the window and into the vehicle. Fixing it to auto pilot, she mapped out the course to follow, then sat back, carefully braiding her hair as the helicopter leapt forward.

~

Piccolo narrowed his eyes, terribly suspicious of the couple in front of him. Before he realized that they weren't humans, he had been frying them crisp with his laser eyes. He would've gone further as to snap their necks when the pink-haired girl screamed and made a sparkler come out of her mouth. Obviously, that wasn't normal of humans, so Piccolo had stopped, beginning to examine these two kids that had the nerve to disturb him in the middle of the night. Futomi and Jito now looked like anything that was black and crunchy, rather than a love goddess apprentice and her assistant. They at first coughed and sputtered, and Jito started yelling some nonsense at Futomi, which Piccolo raised a confused eyebrow ridge at.

"I TOLD YOU!!" shouted Jito, waving a fist at his friend and scattering ashes, "HE COULD'VE KILLED US!!!"

"Jito…!!" whined Futomi in a high-pitched voice, eyes screwed tight, her head in her hands and trying to shake the ashes off her head, "I didn't…"

"WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!? YOU CAN'T EVEN…"

"You don't understand me! You ruin…"

"RUIN!?! WHAT DO I RUI---"

"You can't…"

"SILENCE!" shouted Piccolo.

He was answered by a wide-eyed, ashen-covered silence. Piccolo nearly smirked at the sight of the two childish people in front of him, covered in ashes, paused in their mid-fight stances. Jito had a fistful of Futomi's hair, she nearly ripping the bottom corner of his shirt, he with one foot on the ground and the other on near contact with her shin, and Futomi with raised her pulled back fist. It after witnessing the sheer foolishness of these two that made Piccolo more or less really suspicious. Who were they to go tramping around in the night and getting zapped by red laser beams?

"Who are you!" demanded Piccolo, with such force that the two shrank back, trying to hide behind the other.

It was Jito who spoke first.

"I-I'm Jit-to," he said a little nervously, "A-and this-s is The Little Kitty Love Nut Goddess."

Mentally noted, it was distinctly visible that Jito hadn't stumbled over the title. Futomi's cheeks flushed ever so slightly as Jito's eyes passed over his shoulder and nodded. She put on her million-dollar smile and gave a little wave.

"Hiya," she said, practically whispering.

The Namekian glared at them.

"What are you doing here?" he said more matter-of-factly than irate.

"T-that's hardly a question," said Futomi under breath.

Piccolo's ears twitched.

"What?" he barked, and Futomi shrank back again, shaking.

"I-it's nothing!" Jito quickly intervened, "We're just here on a field assignment!"

Futomi nodded quite vigorously.

"That's right! The Tokyo Love Goddess sent me over here to find you!"

The addressed Namekian narrowed his eyes distrustfully, his gaze skeptical.

"What does," he said a little slowly, "She want with me?"

Jito cleared his throat, straightening his burned tie.

"Um, there was an incident a few weeks ago…"

A clipboard mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, only announcing its entrance by a puff of green smoke. Jito took the burnt pen from behind his ear, but seeing that it didn't write anymore, magicked a new one and started jotting down something. Futomi looked over his shoulder with a half-interested glance. She seemed pleased with it, since Piccolo saw her smile widely at him, like there was some secret pleasure that in knowing something he plainly didn't know. It annoyed him so, and he almost didn't hear what Jito had to say.

"…And it ended in her saving you from dashing your head on the ground, some many feet from the air (we don't bother about numbers), all while you were unconscious," finished Jito.

"What?" said Piccolo, suddenly shaken out of his reverie.

Futomi giggled.

"Silly Piccolo," she said, "You're going on a date!"

Piccolo's eyes widened considerably, and his mouth dropped open.

"WHAT?"

The apprentice burst into another fit of laughter. Jito looked up from his notes.

"That's right," he said, tapping the clipboard with his pen, "One date with Sotari…"

"BUT…"

His eye twitched.

"WHAT THE HELL…WHEN?"

Jito didn't even blink.

"Exactly one week from now."

"I DON'T…"

The green-haired boy waved a hand in a tut-tut-ish fashion.

"No escape from it, Piccolo," he said, the clipboard disappearing in another puff of smoke, "It's a written order from the Tokyo Love Goddess herself."

A yellow sheet of paper materialized in his hand. Piccolo snatched it, only glimpsing at it to throw it back in Jito's face.

"I DON'T BELIEVE THIS CRAP!!" he shouted, "NAMEKIANS AREN'T…"

Again, the Former Demon King was interrupted. Jito shrugged his shoulders.

"Can't change it," he said shortly, "Futomi and I will be your supervisors, and we'll also be arranging the whole thing."

He cast a careless glance at the pink-haired girl behind him, now laughing so hard that she had to support herself on his shoulder.

Just like her, Jito loosely thought, Stupid girl…Doesn't take anything seriously…

"Right, Futomi?" he said loudly.

Futomi clutched her side, gasping for breath and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief in her free hand.

"S-sure," she wheezed, "What---haha---whatever."

Piccolo threw his hands up in the air, totally exasperated at the divine will of love goddesses.

"God," he muttered, "What's next?"

The pink-haired Futomi saw his expression and said quite philosophically: "No use spilling over cried milk, Piccolo!"

Both Namekian and boy rolled their eyes.

~

Yamako's eyes shifted back and forth from the sky to the window, making doubly sure she had lost Vegeta. She certainly couldn't hear him at least, and she didn't have a scouter to make sure.

"He's no loss," she muttered as the dark silhouette of Goku rolled over away from her, "Kakarotto will do just as well…"

Only the slight sound of sliding wood softly penetrated the blackness of the Son bedroom. Yamako smirked, thinking how easy this was going to be, as she swung a leg over the sill.

I only hope, she thought, That he isn't…Oh no!

The female Saiyajin's eyes widened and rolled back in a faint, and Yamako's gloved hand made a soft smacking noise against her forehead. A deep anger was ignited deep inside her.

"These damn Saiyajins!" she cursed under her breath, "They both have mates!?"

Half of Chi Chi's blanket-covered figure was in full view, and it made Yamako nearly sick.

"And both humans!" Yamako's voice rising, "I don't believe it!"

Goku stirred a little, but Yamako didn't notice, getting more enraged by the second.

"How dumb! How stupid!"

Yellow sparks crackled at her fingertips, and Yamako's brown eyes had a dangerous, malevolent glint. She raised her hand above her head, and the sparks became like lightning, attracting strands of hair from Yamako's head. Her eyes narrowed at Chi Chi, who was sleeping blissfully.

"Shinei," Yamako whispered, and lightning flew.

The electrical energy enveloped Chi Chi, and she woke up screaming. Wisps of smoke immediately rose from her body, and the very stench filled Goku's nostrils as he sat up at the very first syllable of oncoming death. His eyes widened, and the smoke stung his eyes. Almost blindly, he tried picking up his wife, but the shock threw him so hard that he fell off the bed. Goku's head hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud, then suddenly saw, upside-down, Yamako's smirking face.

"Who are you!" he cried, twisting over.

"I'm your new love," replied Yamako, hands on hips with a triumphant look, "Your old one shall leave us very soon…"

"Chi Chi!" yelled Goku, trying to reach his wife again.

His hands touched her, and the electricity shot agony up his nerves, frying his senses. The very pain overwhelmed him, filling his eyes, nose, ears, every opening. He couldn't even feel the fine fabric of the blanket under his knees or soft touch of his wife's hair as he held her close to him, sharing her pain and her terrible death. For sure, although his body was much stronger than Chi Chi's, Goku knew he could die from this. That only made him grasp her tighter, hoping beyond hope that somehow this would help take some of the pain away, though he knew nothing of how to stop it.

All of a sudden, as if it came far away, Goku heard the sound of something breaking. Vaguely, he smiled, thinking how mad Chi Chi would be…If she made it out alive. Then he thought heard someone shouting---a man's voice---then something in a female's voice. A chop-chop-chop noise---ki blasts---More crashing (More cleaning up!). Even more shouting…then… Goku suddenly realized that the pain was gone. He took in a sharp breath, then loosened his hold on the limp form in his hands. The Saiyajin doubled checked, jerking his head right, over his shoulder…

There was Bulma, standing in quite a glorious-looking stance above that unconscious woman on the floor. Vegeta, with what looked like a small burn on his forehead, was a little away from the foot of the bed, still in his stance and a wisp of smoke still rising from his glove. The smaller Saiyajin seemed to be having trouble breathing, for it came in ragged gasps and wheezes, but overall, he seemed okay. He straightened up from his stance when he saw Goku looking at him with a bewildered expression.

"Kakarott?" he said, jerking his chin at the woman, "This is Yamako."

Goku took a quick glance at the woman. She didn't seem too hurt; just knocked out by one means or another. He wasted no time remembering Chi Chi.

"Chi Chi!" he cried, turning to his wife and shaking her shoulders gently, "Chi Chi!"

"Goku!" said Bulma, running around to the other side of the bed, "What happened?"

The addressed did not say anything. A big tear rolled down the side of his face.

"Chi Chi…"

Vegeta cast a careless glance at the muscle-slackened woman in Goku's arms.

"She's not dead, Kakarott," he said in an annoyed tone.

Bulma gave a sharp, icy look at Vegeta, thinking of him thoughtless, but Goku was different. He looked at his fellow Saiyajin with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"How do you know?" he asked quietly.

The other did not immediately reply. He silently walked over to Chi Chi and gave a quick examination.

"A Saiyajin can survive that attack," he murmured a little too bluntly.

"Saiyajin!?" Bulma nearly shrieked, "Saiyajin!? How can you think of that right now!! Chi Chi is…"

"That woman could die for all I care!" snapped Vegeta, then looking back at Goku, "But for God's sake, you should shut your mouth!"

"Wait, are you saying…" Goku's sentence trailed off, "…But we don't have the Dragonballs!"

Vegeta looked slightly pained, but still angry with Bulma. He stiffly whirled around and walked up to the window, gazing outside. Bulma's helicopter was still there, hovering and wasting gas. The Saiyajin flew a little ways over to it, taking care to avoid the swirling blades above his head. As he touched foot inside the craft, he could feel eyes watching his back with wavering credulity. To himself, Vegeta couldn't help but smirk when he found them. He straightened, turned, and his triumphant smile guaranteed the looks of surprise on Goku and Bulma's faces. Then, with a deft toss, a plain, brown bag was seen being thrown out of the helicopter and landing with a hard thud on the ground below.

The Saiyajin Prince was on the ground before the bag, catching it easily in his arms. Goku and Bulma followed suit, watching with astounded faces as Vegeta took each Dragonball, one by one, out of the bag, the latter's' smooth, orange surfaces glossy in the pale starlight. Vegeta's eyes lit with a familiar temptation, as each ball was placed in a neat little circle in the dewy grass, one that pained him to forgo. Bulma and Goku knew it, but they knew better than to say anything stupid.

Bulma asked softly: "When…?"

"I've had them for a few months," replied Vegeta abruptly, turning his face slightly away, "Hid them in one of the air crafts stored in your hoi-poi capsules. I wanted to make the wish…"

He didn't finish his sentence. Bulma stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. The Saiyajin shrugged it away. His wish for immortality…Finished. He had had his chances. Vegeta tried to look indifferent. It didn't matter anyway. Even if he did wish to be immortal, Goku and his friends would've found some way to stop him, even if it meant cheating their chances of Heaven. The prince looked up in the air at the stars, only finding them blocked by the huge coils and scales of a certain dragon. He couldn't help but glare at the thing. Such a waste…

"~§~§~WHO DARE DISTURBS MY SLEEP~§~§~" bellowed Shenlong.

"Goku," said Goku in a calm voice, "I wish to make my wife into a Saiyajin."

The Eternal Dragon gave Goku a very hard look.

"~§~§~THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE. ONE CANNOT CHANGE WHO THEY ARE, NEITHER BY BLOOD NOR BY RACE. ONLY IF ONE DESIRES A MINOR PHYSICAL CHANGE…~§~§~"

"Damn," muttered Bulma, "That Dragon…!"

"The rules are pretty complicated," said Goku, looking at Chi Chi, "About what you can do or what you can't do. One of those…"

"But we're only making Chi Chi into a Saiyajin! What's so wrong with that?"

"Maybe…That being Saiyajin…You risk losing yourself."

"What!?"

"Saiyajins," said Vegeta, "Have feelings no one else has. You…"

He failed to explain it. Not that Bulma, as scientific as she was, could understand such complications…She'd have to be Saiyajin herself to find out.

"Chi Chi won't change!" Bulma insisted, "She's…Chi Chi! A human! Humans can't change their feelings no matter what! She'll stay the same!"

"How do you know!" Vegeta argued, in a tone unlike his own, "By changing Saiyajin, she might become someone else…She'll be overcome with new feelings, a sudden---freedom---that she can do what she wants with the new Saiyajin powers. That might become something else…Something that we cannot control. She might even kill herself."
The last reason rung out, loud and clear enough to even wake Gohan. He stirred immediately from his sleep. After running to his window, he watched with wide eyes as he saw his parents, Bulma, and Vegeta all gathered around the Shelong.

"What could they possibly wish for?" he wondered aloud.

~

Piccolo's attention from the newcomers was now diverted to Shenlong's sudden appearance in the sky. Taking advantage, Futomi waved good-bye as Jito took a quick jog into the trees.

"Bye, Piccolo-sama!" she said, "We'll see you next week! We'll call you!"

The Namekian didn't even blink. When he did look, they were gone. With a slightly irked expression, he flew off to the Son House, wondering what was going on.

"A waste of my time," muttered Piccolo, thinking about the date, "Don't see why…"

His cheeks flushed slightly as the thought of Sotari bobbed expectedly in his mind.

What was she hiding from me…?

~

Gohan slipped out of his window, but his arrival did not go unnoticed.

"Gohan!" exclaimed Bulma.

"What happened?" Gohan asked, then seeing his mother, "Okaa-san!?"

Bulma briefly filled him in. Vegeta looked even more irritated than ever, but Shenlong's patience was thinner.

"~§~§~WHAT IS YOUR WISH~§~§~" he demanded, "~§~§~UNLESS MY SERVICES ARE NOT NEEDED, I SHALL OBLIGED TO RETURN TO MY EARTHLY SLEEP~§~§~"

"Just wait a moment!" Goku called up, then at Vegeta, "Well? What do we do? We can't make Chi Chi into a Saiyajin…"

"Then I wish for Chi Chi's injuries to heal!" shouted Bulma up to Shenlong.

Shenlong's temper could easily be heard in his voice.

"~§~§~I CANNOT DO THAT~§~§~"

"WHY!?!?"

Vegeta gave an annoyed sigh and stood up.

"Stupid Onna… Shenlong, I wish for the mate of Kakarotto to have the strength of a Saiyajin!"

"~§~§~YOUR WISH IS GRANTED~§~§~"

There was tremor, and then the bright streaks of the scattered Dragonballs could be seen flying across the sky. Goku looked down at Chi Chi, whose cheeks turned a bright pink, and the burns could be visibly seen disappearing.

"WHAT!!!!!" Bulma's shriek could be heard for a few miles, "HOW CAN THAT BE!!!!!"

"Go ask Kami, Onna," said Vegeta, heading back to the Son House, then looking sharply at Goku, "Don't even say it, Kakarotto---I'll never do it again, I swear…"

He cast a careless glance at Chi Chi, who was now fully awake.

"What…what happened?" she said, a confused look on her face.

Goku and Gohan gave simultaneous cries of happiness. As they stood fussing over Chi Chi, Vegeta resumed his retreat into the house.

"I'll be sleeping in your house tonight, by the way," he said over his shoulder.

Bulma was still in the dark.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND!!!!!!" she screamed, "WHAT HAPPENED!!!!!!"

"You heard Vegeta," said another voice, "Go ask the old man."

She whirled around to see Piccolo.

"Piccolo!" Bulma cried, "Tell me! You would know what happened!"

Piccolo gave her a cold look.

"Don't even start," he said, turning his back to her, "Had more than my share of trouble…"

His cape flapped in the wind, and he was gone. Bulma stamped her foot.

"DAMN IT!!!!!!! NOBODY WILL TELL ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Goku smiled cheerfully and laid a hand on Bulma's shoulder.

"Get your helicopter down, Bulma," he said, "And stay with us."

Bulma hesitated, still fuming.

"Don't worry," Goku reassured her, "I'll carry you up to Kami's in the morning."

At that, Bulma nodded.

"Okay," she said, then addressing Chi Chi, "Are you all right?"

"Oh, I'm all right," said Chi Chi, smiling a little weakly, "But I feel so extraordinary!"

She looked at Goku.

"Is this what a Saiyajin feels like, dear?"

It was Goku's turn to be doubtful.

"Uh…Not quite, dear," he said a little slowly, casting a glance at the house where Vegeta was, "I should know…"

"Where's that devil woman?" Chi Chi suddenly said, "Escaped?"

"N-no…I haven't checked actually."

Goku's eyes went worriedly up to the room.

"She…"

A sudden blast knocked the wind out of him. Goku felt himself land hard on the ground, but Chi Chi was thrown somewhere out of his arms. Gohan and Bulma, he wasn't sure, but he already knew who had attacked them…

"Yamako!!" shouted Vegeta, suddenly appearing again.

The woman Saiyajin looked down and smiled at the prince.

"Hello, Vegeta."

Vegeta glared at her, his fists clenched.

"Get down from there!! You know you can't win!!"

Yamako surprisingly obeyed, landing lightly on the ground in front of Vegeta. The others managed to pick themselves up, but none had injuries. They seemed to form a half-circle around Yamako.

"All right!" said Chi Chi, "First things first! Who is she!"

"I'm Yamako," said she, looking rather pleased with herself, "I'm Vegeta's old girlfriend."

"Vegeta had a girlfriend!?" Goku's jaw dropped.

"Yes, Kakarotto!!" Vegeta yelled, face flushed.

"But there aren't any female Saiyajins!" insisted Bulma.

"Not natural ones," said Yamako, smiling a little wider, "I was a science project."

"Huh?" Gohan looked confused.

Vegeta sighed again, but he was very annoyed having to explain everything about Yamako. She herself only knew part of the whole thing.

"There were female Saiyajins at one time, but that was before my people first started conquering the Planet Plant," he began, "The native people there of course weren't very pleased. They fought for a long time, but it was inevitable that the Saiyajins would win. When the supply of weapons was exhausted, the people of the planet decided on germ warfare. But the virus that was spread among us only infected the women Saiyajin, who were decidedly much weaker than the males."

"That resulted in the entire annihilation of the females, but the males were determined to keep the Saiyajin blood strong. Some, of course, wanted to breed with other alien species, but the experiments of hybrids usually resulted in disaster. Only 10 alien species could reproduce hybrids successfully, but all the children produced were too weak to be considered purebloods."

"What saved our race from become tainted was the technology we had stolen from the previous inhabitants. We started cloning only the most powerful males, ensuing in only the strongest Saiyajins. Of course, there are always some people against the cloning. Most of which were of the weaker class of Saiyajins that were prohibited being cloned. Among them…"

He cast a careless glance at Goku.

"…Was Bardock. My father always hated him, and Bardock was so bold as to even clone himself twice…Anyway, Bardock and his few followers scraped enough together to form a project designed to recreate a female Saiyajin. They did this by adding some borrowed female genes from other alien species to their own DNA. Many of their efforts failed. It was only when Bardock had some of his own DNA…"

"Yamako's my little sister!?" Goku interrupted, his eyes wide with utter astonishment, "I never knew I had two siblings!"

"I have a big brother!!" Yamako shouted, looking at Vegeta, "And it's Kakarott!?!?"

"Surprising, eh?" Vegeta couldn't help but smirk.

"I don't believe it!" Bulma exclaimed.

"Me neither!" said Chi Chi and Gohan.

"Take samples," said Vegeta simply, "You'll find that Yamako and Goku's DNA are almost exactly the same…"

"But we aren't really siblings, are we!?" Yamako asked.

Vegeta shrugged his shoulders.

"It's only DNA, Yamako…"

"Then…then…" Yamako was teetering on the edge of hysterics, "…I'm not the Prime Minister's mutated clone daughter after all!?!?"

"No," said Vegeta, taking great pleasure in this, "A third-class baka…"

"I'm not of royal blood!?!?!?"

"Not a drop."

"I…I…"

Yamako fainted. Goku picked her up and started carrying her to the house.

"Who did she think she was?" Bulma asked, still confused.

Vegeta looked at her, and the small light of tenderness suddenly welled up in his eyes for absolutely no reason at all.

"When she was born, she was told that she was the clone of my father's highest Prime Minister, but something had gone wrong to make her into a female. She had accepted it, and the Prime Minister had taken her in and trained her to be a proper Saiyajin. Bardock and his colleagues knew that they didn't possess the skills or power to do so. That figures…Third class can't do anything."

He turned to go into the house.

~