Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Something Can Change ❯ Chapter 1

Vegeta was confined to his bed, having blown up the gravity room several days previous and been ordered by Bulma to stay immobile until he healed, under penalty of slow, painful death. Not that she could actually carry out the threat, but, surprisingly enough, he knew his limits and had no qualms about taking a short hiatus from his training. There was just one problem: he was bored out of his mind.

Glancing around the room he was currently occupying, his eyes came to rest on the shelving unit against the wall opposite his bed. Filled with family pictures, keepsakes, and other sentimental knickknacks of little importance to him, there was however one shelf devoted to the storage of a number of old books. Wincing from the effort, Vegeta managed to stand up and make his way across the room. His hand had just rested on the binding of one of the volumes when a voice from the doorway demanded, "And just what do you think you're doing out of bed, mister?"

Trying not to groan, "Have you installed motion sensors in here now?"

"Gotta keep tabs on you somehow," replied the blue-haired heiress with a note of smugness as she surveyed the scene.

"Whatever." Book in hand, he ambled back to his bed, taking great pains not to grimace in her presence. With his luck, her obstinacy in regards to his health would only intensify, and he'd probably end up hooked to a morphine drip. Again. Though, admittedly, he was a tiny bit flattered she tried so hard to take care of him despite his self-destructive, among other things, tendencies.

Bulma watched as the object of her wrath flopped on his back, and finally noticed what it was he'd retrieved from the bookcase. "What are you doing with that?" she asked, pointing.

"I got sick of watching the dust collect on the furniture and decided to find something to read," was the answer he gave, as if it wasn't totally out of character for him to be interested in anything other than kicking a certain someone's ass, much less literature.

"Why... don't I get you something else? You don't want to read that, believe me."

"Why? Is it your secret diary or something?"

"NO! I just... don't think you'd enjoy looking through my old high school English notebook, that's all. It's really boring..." She bit her lip, trying to resist the urge to grab it out of his hands and run. Perhaps she was a scientific genius, but that class had been almost impossible for her to get through, as would be evident if he read any of her writing. God, she'd never hear the end of it. "C'mon, just give it here, I'll get you something good, with blood and guts and everything."

"This will do."

"But--"

"I said, this will do," he repeated more forcefully, indicating that she was in pursuit of a lost cause. Bulma sighed and left the room, muttering something about damned Saiyans and their indomitable curiosity.

Meanwhile, Vegeta smiled in victory, opened to the inside cover of the single subject spiral-bound notebook and read the message scrawled in faded blue ink.

English Response Journal Volume I

Property of Bulma Briefs, most supreme genius of the eleventh grade (and don't you forget it!)

Underneath which was written neatly in red: If you're such a genius, then you'll have no problem handing this in on time, correct? You remember this counts for half your final grade.

Blue again: Yeah, yeah, Mr. Markison, I know.

He smirked a bit and turned the page; she hadn't changed a bit.

One of the first stories, "The Last Judgment" was... interesting. Some serial killer had kicked the dirt after killing nine people, and was then put on trial not by god, but by three dead former judges (god being the witness) who didn't pay much attention to anything said, then sent the guy, Kugler, to hell. Then was the girl's response to the story. She blabbered on about judgment and justice for a while, whether it was one or the other that the man had been condemned to despite his good qualities and the reasons he turned out the way he did.

Consider, Mr. Markison wrote, what it might mean to say that if god can't judge, he can see that justice is done? that in point of fact he does make a "last judgment", that "man belongs to man"? how can that be justice?

Bulma wrote back, Ok, so, god knows what's true and everything because he sees all, so even though he understands and forgives Kugler in light of his upbringing, etc., he still recognizes the fact that all the humans want justice and Kugler still needs to pay for what he did. That's why that little court thing was there. God could've just ignored the people and forgiven everyone, but he didn't, he conceded to let the judges do what they wanted, because if he didn't then justice wouldn't really be carried out because he's just being god. Justice is carried out through men, who make all the decisions there, and the fact that he lets them do that is a judgment in itself. Kami really needs to get a life.

He closed the book. Maybe that story, and the analysis, had hit a bit too close to home for comfort. He'd been controlled by that pink bastard his entire life, emotions beaten out of him till he didn't care if he killed a million people or a million people killed him. Was he going to be stuck like this, condemned, forever? He wasn't going to have the luxury of training with King Kai in the Other World, or other such nonsense, like all the "pure" Z-fighters had. No, he'd be wallowing in the pits of HFIL for eternity, right next to said pink bastard and the pink bastard's pink father. Great future to look forward to.

Sneering, Vegeta tossed the book to the floor, disgusted by how it'd managed to make him think when he'd much rather just concentrate on his training and the androids. A moment later he picked it back up and slid it under his pillow, where it's owner would not dare look for it, and drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow he'd find out more about these human writings, and what the woman didn't know she knew about him.

Bulma and Yamcha sat on the couch watching a movie of Bruce Willis beating up bad guys, their minds only partly concentrating on the action on the screen. The space between the two was not so much filled with tension, more like, an amicable absence of romance. Bulma took a breath and decided to break the veritable silence. "Yamcha?"

The unusual tone in her voice caused him to look over at her. "Yeah?"

"Are you sensing what I'm sensing?"

Surprised, he answered truthfully, "That our relationship has stagnated and is going down the tubes?"

A wry smile crossed her features as she replied, "That's a contradiction in terms, but basically, yeah."

"Yeah."

"Not much we can do about it, is there?"

"Nope."

"So..." she ventured. "Pardon the cliche, but I guess this is goodbye?"

"Looks like it."

"Bye, Yamcha."

"Bye, Bulma." His attention returned to the TV as the FBI helicopter exploded and no one really cared. "I'll go after the movie's over, 'kay?"

"'Kay."

Later that day, after Yamcha had left, Bulma wandered around the house for a while until she found herself in the room of Mr. Royal-pain-in-the-ass himself. He was awake again, nose still in the old notebook. She was about ready to sneak up on him and attempt to grab it out of his hands, but something in the expression on his face stopped her. It seemed almost as if he was thinking about what he read, mulling it over, maybe even seeing if it applied to him. Attributing it to just a trick of the lighting, she stepped up next to him and started to read over that which was making him seem almost contemplative, her response to "A Simple Heart".

Felicite loves the people she loves no matter what they do. They all had qualities and did stuff that was less than perfect, but she didn't notice any of it and continued to love them. Even though most of the time the people don't love her back, she keeps giving to them without wondering what's in it for her.

...I think it's difficult for most people to love like that, because for them there would be too much thinking involved. It's easy for Felicite because she doesn't think about it, it's natural for her to be that way. Since she isn't exactly a genius (like yours truly), she doesn't notice when she isn't loved back or is exploited, so loving people despite that is pretty much instinctive.

...This story is saying that no matter what you do, no matter what kind of great things you accomplish or how many times you save the world, if it's motivated by anything other than love then it's pointless and doesn't mean anything.

Bulma blushed as she finished scanning the page, embarrassed that the prince had to be reading about her thoughts on love when he obviously didn't know the first thing about any of it. He was so obsessed with getting stronger than Goku and beating the shit out of anyone who crossed his path just to show he could; how could he possibly understand this? "You know, if you want mindless entertainment I can have the TV be brought in here, with some action movies you can make fun of."

Vegeta rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. Good thing she'd interrupted his train of thought--he hadn't liked where it was heading--in regards to his heart, or lack thereof. "This crap is the epitome of mindless entertainment, why would I need more?"

"Why you little... I worked hard in that class, thank you very much! If you're going to be reading through my stuff the least you could do is say something intelligent about it!" She retorted, then cut him off before he could interject another derogatory comment. "I know it made you think, I could tell just by looking at your face. You just want to kill the androids to prove your strength, not because you're, god forbid, trying to protect the earth or anything. Are you starting to realize how incredibly pointless that is? Says so right there, you just read it."

Glaring, he dropped the book at her feet and spat out, "Get lost. And take your stupid book with you."

"No," she replied, retrieving it from the floor and tossing it in his lap. "No. I think you need to finish this. Maybe some of the concepts in here will get through that thick head of yours and make you understand some things." Deep, shaky breath, trying to hold on to some of her anger. "Like how to recognize when someone cares for you, and why."

He watched her as she retreated from the room, and the house, as signified by the slamming door he soon heard. She was wrong, he was sure of it. He would probably never comprehend those concepts so foreign to him, that she could write--and talk--about with such perplexing, human, ease. Placing the book in the drawer of the bedside table, Vegeta eased himself back down to the pillow and nodded off.

Sitting at her desk, pretending to work, Bulma berated herself for what she'd said to Vegeta the day before. "I'm never going to be able to look him in the face again, why'd I have to go and open my big mouth? It's not like he'd know how to react to me just announcing it like that, and of course the chances of him reciprocating my feelings are slim to none, so there's strike two. And if he decides to keep reading, then pretty soon he'll get to the part about the meaning of life and his head will probably explode, which would leave a nice mess, considering how big the damn thing is if you include his ego, all of which I would have to clean up. Oh, why didn't I burn that stupid book the second I got out for summer break?"

"What book?"

"Aah!" she screamed, jumping out of her chair. "Dad! Don't do that to me! I was in the middle of some nice self-belittlement and you scared the crap out of me!"

Dr. Briefs chuckled. "Sorry about that. What's got you so troubled?"

"His Royal Highness got ahold of my eleventh grade English notebook and is actually reading it."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Markison's class, I remember now. Only class that ever gave you a challenge, am I right?"

"Yeah, and now Vege-head is totally engrossed in it."

"Think it'll have an effect on him?" he asked, stirring his coffee and trying not to sound too presumptuous.

"Give me a break, Dad. The man is a complete stonewall, my ramblings at age 17 are not going to change him or make him see anything that's right in front of him unless it's Goku or an android."

"Stop worrying about it so much. He'll warm up to you eventually."

A sharp intake of breath, then in an annoyed tone, "Just how much of my self-deprecation did you hear?"

He sipped his coffee to hide the smile, and ambled out of the office. "Enough, Bulma. Enough."

She put her head down on her desk and sighed. "Life is such a bitch."

Two days later, the Saiyan prince was still banned from the gravity room, and still as bored as he could get. Bulma's notebook was still in the nightstand, untouched since it was put there the day of her little confession. But the white confines of the ceiling did nothing to prevent Vegeta's thoughts from circling around his head, his wondering as to why she wanted him to finish reading it, and why he even gave a damn. "Might as well see what the hell it is she thinks is so damn important in that book..." he grumbled as he reached into the drawer and pulled it out. "I ought to just blast the damn thing, that'd really make her day."

Blue: The Trial

...He knows he's about to bite the dust but the only thing he's afraid of is dying alone without having lived a meaningful life. Because the measure of a person's life depends not only on how much others need you, but also on how much you need others, which is hard for a lot of people to admit. So when Peter ratted on his friend Charles (which served to give the Nazis another person to kill), it wasn't out of animosity, it was because he needed him and depended on him to make his life meaningful. The fact that he was able to admit that and open himself to potential hurt means that he's brave.

Red: Does Charles' "philosophy of life" make sense to you? why? why is it so difficult for people to accept? how is this story an "antidote" to what happened in "Displaced Person" ?

Blue again: Yes. If you're just living for yourself, then once you kick off no one's going to notice or care. People don't like to accept the fact that they need other people because a) that would mean they're responsible for someone else, which is a formidable thought, and 2) people deny it and trick themselves so they don't have to feel bad about not having anyone. In "The Displaced Person", everyone was working toward their own ends and stepping on people the whole way, and it all ended up going to hell in a handbasket. This story brings it full circle by showing that the key to a meaningful life is linking with, depending on, and helping others.

Red: And how does this connect with the story, "The Wall"?

Blue: In "The Wall", Pablo was in prison and was all prepared to die because he wouldn't tell the bad guys where his friend Ramon was hiding. As he was sitting there he tried to push the other people away, build a wall around himself so that the only person he depended on was himself. He wanted to die hardheaded, with dignity and no attachments to that "sentimental conspiracy" that the others were caught in, and remain strong with no feelings. His philosophy of life differed from Peter's in that he denied there were connections between people. However, when he tried to trick the bad guys and make them look stupid, it ended up that they caught Ramon and Pablo was set free.

...This ended up proving that people's lives are interconnected (he was just lying to himself), and everyone controls everyone else's life/fate. Everyone's in it together, and no one can just choose what's going to happen to them. So it proves Peter's theory right, that all people depend on and need other people, and it's impossible for one person to just separate themself from everyone else, it's just not gonna happen.

Bulma heard pages rustling as she walked by Vegeta's room, and peeked in to see if he'd actually done what she'd said, for once. He was just finishing the last page, she observed, and a minute later he slowly closed the book and set it down.

He'd heard her coming down the hall, in bare feet it seemed, and stop at his door, watching. The woman, though too smart for her own good, also had quite possibly the worst timing in the universe. Pretty soon she'd start harping on him about what he'd learned before he had a chance to properly process the information overload, thereby annoying the hell out of him. Instead, she wordlessly strode to the chair next to his bed and sat, waiting for him to say the first word.

Ten minutes later, she changed her mind. "Well?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well what?"

"What're you going to do?" she demanded, slightly exasperated as she got to her feet and glared down at him.

Vegeta sat up, then stood to look her straight in the eye as he responded, "I'm going to train until I'm a Super Saiyan so I can defeat those androids."

Although she'd told herself to expect this, Bulma was nonetheless caught off-guard by his usual brusque response, having hoped he'd've been affected just a little bit by the words he just read. Everything about depending on other people, living a meaningful life, needing others, was it all lost on him?

"But why--" she began, but was cut off when his lips met hers in a kiss that would've blown her socks off, had she been wearing any. He took her hands, held her close, and time slowed to a crawl for the both of them.

Moments later they broke apart, she gasping for air, he smiling almost victoriously. As their foreheads touched in an affectionate gesture, he spoke into her ear, "You really should stop asking so many questions, now that I know how to shut you up."

Bulma tried to glare at him as he pulled away and walked in the direction of the gravity room, but ended up smiling instead. She then picked her old high school English notebook up off the bed and carefully replaced it on the shelf.

"Damn Saiyans."