Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Swarm Saga ❯ Of Food and Family ( Chapter 8 )

Chapter 8: Of Food and Family

Kuririn stood with his back against the wall and occasionally peeked around the edge of the doorway waiting for his wife to head to the other side of the sprawling kitchen. It was only 6:30 and his wife was already in full hostzilla mode. Eighteen was never the most domestic woman of his acquaintance but today she was moving stiffly around the kitchen while following the instructions of their neighbor on how to prepare a brisket for cooking. The silver haired woman sat at a table with a glass of tea prattling on about what ever it was that she found to talk about. His wife's comments were a series of monosyllabic sounds. He was afraid that, if seen, he would be stuck in the kitchen cooking and entertaining the ditzy grandmother with his wife. It was bad enough she was threatening to make him grill.

Eighteen was stressed out as it was, this being their first Z senchi bar-b-que to host. He really wasn't sure why. She could plan elaborate parties, down to the minutest detail, for clients and guests that went off without a hitch. He suspected that his wife was trying to one up both Bulma and ChiChi for the position of "Top Hostess." She simply did not realize how simple this party would be. Once the food hit the table, everyone would eat. Then there would be sparring to be had by all. No one would care if all of the cookies were shaped like fists and ki blasts or if the sauces were homemade or store bought.

Usually, the inn used its chef for large gatherings but he and Eighteen had made sure that, for the last week, the building remained empty of guests so that the family could attend the tournament and have this gathering without the questioning eyes of outsiders. The staff had been sent on paid vacation. Unfortunately, neither of the owners was prepared to cook for seven saiyan appetites; both having minimal cooking skills at best. Hence the need to call in the most successful hostess they knew; the inn's former owner, and their neighbor, Mrs. Hadley.

They bought the inn from her sixteen years ago with Eighteen's tournament winnings. The android had practically demanded it. He was prepared to move out of Master Muten's house as well since Marron was beginning to show signs that she would become the beauty that her mother was. He didn't want to expose his baby girl to the lascivious minds of either Oolong or his old sensei. His lovely wife, on the other hand, simply threatened to cut off body parts; even his if he didn't agree to move.

He took another glance around the doorframe and, noticing that her back was turned, rushed past the portal and into the dining room. As quietly as possible, he began moving the tables out of the way so that there would be room to dance if someone felt the need to cut a rug. He had just finished lining up the chairs and began to move outside to tackle the patio when the doorbell rang.

Kuririn looked at the watch on his arm in alarm. Nobody was supposed to show up until after noon. From the kitchen, he heard his wife's muffled exclamation as she banged a pot. He rushed by the door with a quick, "I'll get it."

Eighteen stepped out of the kitchen. "Tell whoever it is to come back after noon. Then get in here. I need your help." He heard Mrs. Hadley's voice float out chastising his wife for being rude to guests. The younger woman's mouth thinned and she stood there trembling before taking a deep breath, holding it for ten seconds, stilling her features, turning around, and moving back into the kitchen.

The ex-monk suddenly wondered about the moral implications of just ki blasting the person on the other side of the door. He was doing fine until the buzzer went off. He was going to set up the patio and then head upstairs to check on his daughter and make sure she was still sleeping well. Now he was going to have to smoke the stupid hunk of meat. He hated cooking. Grilling was Yamcha's thing, not his. He had enough trouble just looking into the large pit they borrowed from Chi-Chi without having to fly. Unfortunately, his buddy was out of town with his team and had sent his regrets. Maybe if he got lucky Seventeen would arrive early.

Kuririn tried to pull the door off the hinges as he opened it. On the other side was a young man of about twenty. He searched the features looking for whatever it was that made him seem familiar. It occurred to him that the young man was a fighter from the tournament. "Did Marron invite you here?"

The kids eyes got round as he looked down on the shorter man. He swallowed nervously and spoke, his voice shaking. "Um… No sir. I have your milk." The milk? It wasn't due to be delivered for another hour yet, and to the back door. Kuririn looked at the innocuous bottles of white liquid, noticing them for the first time. He then double checked his watch.

He was still confused, until he noticed the boy's fighting gi. He smirked as he collected the milk. "You know, you're running late. Don't tell Roshi I said this, but, if you take the road about half a mile that way you can shave thirty minutes off your route." He winked conspiratorially at the boy and sent him on his way. If only he could remember that kid's name.

"Kuririn!!!"

"Coming Dear."

---

Yamcha stared at the modest, unassuming entryway. A bamboo wind chime tinkled from somewhere behind the house. He bit his lip and took a steadying breath before approaching. From the other side of the door he heard a shouted "Come in Yamcha." He slowly opened the wood and glass slab and peeked around the frame. Sitting on the couch sat a lanky teenage boy actively playing Satan's Boudakai 4 on the video machine.

"Hey Aki, your mom home?"

"No, but, hold on a sec. I'm about 4 punches from beating Mighty Mask. Unless he does that split thing where he becomes two people." Just then, the two electronic fighters on the screen became three before the screen flashed red and gold with the words "Game Over." Aki tossed the controller onto the couch next to him. "Man, I hate it when he does that. I thought these people were supposed to be based on real fighters. I mean nobody can really do that." Yamcha bit his tongue, hard.

He leaned forward on the back of the couch and flipped the bill of the teen's ball cap. "Is your mom supposed to be back soon?"

"I wouldn't expect it. She went shopping with Maddy. You weren't supposed to be back until later tonight."

"After the loss I decided to head back real late last night. I was kind of hoping to surprise your mom. I tried calling this morning but I kept getting the out of area message so I came by."

"Yeah, mom's phone has been acting up. Bummer about that two run homer in the ninth. It's going to keep you out of the playoffs isn't it?" The scared man just shrugged. "So where were you going to take her?"

"I have a friend who is throwing a victory party for his daughter. I was hoping to introduce your mother. I thought you were supposed to be at the lake this weekend."

"I was but Dad canceled." Aki stood up and put the controller on the unit. He took off his cap and ran his fingers through the long hair. "I thought Mom knew all your friends by now."

"Not this group." Yamcha studied the boy then glanced at the screen, which was still signaling the end of the last game. With an almost evil smirk he asked, "Would you like to come with me?" The kid's eyes just got wide. "Good. Go call your sister's phone and see if you can get in touch with your mom. If she says it's OK, you can come." The teen was out of the room in a flash. Sometimes Yamcha really hated Ookami's ex-husband.

He looked around the living room. He loved the books and the clutter and the photos. The room, as well as the rest of the house rang with her laughter, her personality. It occurred to him how lucky he was that the Putz was too stupid to hold on to her. He thought back to the velvet box on his dresser and smiled. He heard a whoop coming from the kitchen followed by Aki practically skipping back into the room to and handing him the phone.

As soon as he held the phone up to his ear he heard the voice on the other end say, "I said he could go. Where is this?"

"It's a picnic being held at a little place called the Liushinkyu Inn on Woko Island. My friend Kuririn and his wife own the place. I promise he'll be back by midnight and in one piece. Hold on a second." He looked at the boy who stood on the balls of his feet biting his lower lip. "Go grab your swimsuit, an old t-shirt, and an old pair of sweats." The teen nodded his head quickly before leaving to gather his stuff.

"Thank you for taking him. I don't know what's wrong with his father. He said you wanted to bring me. I'm sorry. Are you at least still taking me to dinner on Tuesday?"

"Unless you back out on me."

"Are you going to tell me where?"

"No, that would ruin the surprise." He heard her sigh on the other end.

"Fine. Have him home by ten, not midnight. I'll talk to you when you bring him back."

"I'm looking forward to it. I love you."

"I love you too."

The sandy haired teen bounded back into the room with a bag and grabbed the phone away. "Sorry mom he's got to go. Bye." With that said he snapped the phone shut and pulled the older man out the door and locked it behind them. Yamcha just watched as the young man expertly put down the top of his convertible and climbed into the front seat. "So, what's this party for again?"

"My friend's daughter came in second at the WMAT."

Yamcha had never even seen Goku's eyes get that round. "The blonde? Dude, you know her? She is so hot. The guys are never gonna believe this."

As he pulled away from the street, the older man laughed and listened to his passenger ramble on about girls, sports, video games and school.

---

Bulma landed the small copter between a bright red convertible and Gohan's SUV. "I still don't understand why Trunks insisted on driving himself." Vegeta glared at her and made a sound deep in his throat. He had been trying to avoid the conversation the entire way over. She could tell that he knew the reason but she was still trying to figure out how to get it out of him. After work yesterday, the two disappeared into the gravity room for a few hours. When they reappeared, their clothes were still intact and neither looked as if they had broken a sweat. "I guess I'll ask him again when he gets here."

Vegeta dove into the back seat to assist Bra with her buckles. "You will not say anything to him woman. You will leave the boy alone. He's an adult, by your standards; he'll make his own decisions." Vegeta then turned around, allowing his daughter out, and handed his mate the cake she had made. She opened her mouth to reply when he interrupted. "Let it be. He has a right not to be driven by his parents." He reached back into the vehicle and pulled out Marron's gift before encapsulating the copter and following his daughter to the back.

Bulma looked down at the large sheet cake she made and began to head toward the building's courtyard. No offense to Eighteen, but Bulma seriously doubted that the blonde woman had made enough food. She knew how much Saiyans could eat. When she entered the yard, the android looked at the cake and smirked. "You can put that down on the table next to the large pot of noodles that Chi-Chi brought."

Bulma looked at the table full of food as she set down the cake. Apparently, she was wrong. "I love the cookies. The little fists are so cute."

"Thank you."

Bulma turned to join the assembled crowd and made her rounds. It seemed that Marron had picked up a fan; some teenager she had never seen before. When Trunks arrived, Vegeta caught her eye and frowned. Oh well, she would figure it out sooner or later. What was the use of being a genius if she couldn't? Instead, she chose to simply hug her son and remark how handsome he looked. Now that she thought about it… he did seem rather dressed up. If she didn't know better she would swear that the gi was new. She watched him walk over to Goten and give the secret handshake then hug Marron.

Vegeta walked up behind her and perched his chin on her shoulder. "I didn't ask him; although it's becoming apparent. We did good didn't we?"

"I'll tell you after this plays out."

"They're all so relaxed. The rest of us… it's tense. Eighteen is hovering. She may actually be more overprotective than you. And have you seen Yamcha? I think he's afraid the boys are going to break that poor boy."

"They do not know there is anything to be tense about, although Goten is being more quiet than usual. I took notes while Eighteen was raising Marron. And, if the brat doesn't leave Marron alone soon, Trunks is likely to break him." Bulma reached behind her back to quickly squeeze Vegeta's hand. She had never heard him admit something like that. Somehow his putting a voice to it made the issue all the more real. "I promised Kakarrot that I would spar with his student."

"Go. Put on a good show."

"Always."

TBC

A/N: Yeah, not a lot of meat or action here but I figured we all needed a little bit of a break. And hey, its two updates in less than 1 month. Please Review.

I did not plan on giving Yamcha's girlfriend a name (or even have you meet her) but I soon realized that I wasn't going to get out of it. Ookami is a Japanese word for wolf. I thought it appropriate since in Dragonball the wolf is sorta Yamcha's personal totem. Aki means autumn. No reason. Just liked the name.

Liushinkyu, the name of Kuririn's Inn, is the name of the six star dragonball.

DBZ Overlord disappeared!?! I'm in mourning. It was my favorite website. It had so much information on it: Dates, ages, cool signature attacks and how to perform them. The site will be sorely missed.

the Prince's Jewel - No, I promised in the first chapter's notes that she wouldn't be hooking up with anyone. And I'm gonna stick with that. And you don't think I'm gonna make it that easy to find her do you? I am glad that somebody picked up on the triangle.

Bardockgurl - I forgive you for missing two chapters. You're all caught up now. I get annoyed with the Yamcha bashing fics so I had to do something. Yeah you're hooked on the first minor narrative!

Kimmy Jarl - Yeah! I was getting worried about my ability to write humorous moments. I think I'm getting better at it though. Realistic? I think I like realistic. Everyone wants to know about Marron's boy problems. Which means that the second minor narrative is doing well too.