Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Colours Within ❯ What The Neighbours Don't Know ( Chapter 1 )

one. what the neighbours don't know.

 

His mother's mouth dropped open in a gape and his sister stared at him in bewilderment from behind her brown-tinted sunglasses. He looked from one to the other, his proud grin slowly melting away into a confused frown.

 

“What is it?” he finally asked.

 

“Takeshi…” his mother began, groping for words. “The job… your new job…”

 

“It's at the Capsule Corporation,” his sister, Narumi, supplied bluntly.

 

Takeshi stared at them. “I'm well aware of that,” he said hotly. “I don't see the problem; I thought you'd be proud. The Capsule Corporation is a highly respected company, just as the positions there.”

 

His mother hesitated at first. “Yes,” she admitted at last, “the Capsule Corp. is indeed a respected business. However, Miss Briefs….”

 

As she trailed off Takeshi's frown deepened. It had been Bulma Briefs herself who had conducted Takeshi's final interview, and he had taken a liking to the heiress. “What about her?” he demanded.

 

Once again, Narumi took over. “Well, there's no questioning her intelligence,” she began, “nor her beauty or her wealth. But the company she keeps… well, that's a different story altogether.”

 

At the stunned look on Takeshi's face, his mother hastened to correct his thoughts. “Narumi's not implying that Briefs is a whore!” she exclaimed. “But surely you've heard what they say. The friends who go to visit her are often said to be seen flying around… flying, without an aircar or plane or helicopter, just leaping off the ground into the air. And you can hear the explosions coming from the compound on a regular basis all across Western Capital--”

 

“I'm sure they're just experiments,” Takeshi said reasonably, cutting his mother off. “The Capsule Corp. campus does, after all, have many labs and testing sites.”

 

“The explosions were few and far between before that other man arrived there two months ago,” Narumi pointed out. “Not Yamcha Takarabi, the other one, the short one with the funny hair.”

 

“The one you think is good looking,” their mother said with a hint of a smile. The colour rose in Narumi's face, and she couldn't help but grin embarrassedly.

 

“Apparently he's a real badass,” Narumi continued in a tone that clearly said she was interested. “He threatens the employees when they get in his way, and he threatens Briefs, too.”

 

“Oh really,” Takeshi said doubtfully.

 

Narumi nodded almost violently. “And he's not all talk, either. Yamcha Takarabi is a martial artist, but the short guy has beat him up before.”

 

“Oh really,” he said again.

 

“Yes, really,” Narumi said irritably. Then she paused and thought. “Well, he didn't really beat him up, but my friend's brother's girlfriend's sister said she was driving by and saw the short guy punch Takarabi in the face - so fast that she could hardly see the punch, too! - and she thinks his nose broke because of all the blood, but Briefs intervened before anything else happened.”

 

“What a reliable source,” their mother said skeptically.

 

“I believe it!” Narumi insisted. “Have you seen the guy? He's short but he's built. And he looks like a martial artist, just the way he carries himself.”

 

Takeshi frowned yet again. “I haven't heard any of this, or seen him,” he said. “How do you know so much?”

 

“You forget that Narumi is far nosier than should be allowed,” his mother answered, casting her daughter a deep frown that held no annoyance. “I'll be damned if she doesn't spend most of her time driving around the city in her car trying to get a glimpse of anything that might be salvageable for gossip later. And I'll bet anything that most of that time is spent near the Capsule Corp.”

 

“That's not true!” Narumi argued. “I pass by the Capsule Corp. every day on my way to Western Capital University, obviously I'm going to see things.”

 

“You must be a great observer to know how long it's been since that other man arrived,” her mother pointed out teasingly. “And to know how `built' he is. And to know that he doesn't just spend his life in the gym bench-pressing, but he's actually a martial artist.”

 

“We're getting off topic,” Takeshi said testily. “I don't think that Miss Briefs' personal life has anything to do with the way she runs her company. The Capsule Corp. shares haven't gone down in two months, and it's all over the news that the company's about to release the new 765 Inazuma aircar model.”

 

“A tad late, though, don't you think?” Narumi mused. “Next year's model was always out earlier than August before. And the line won't even hit the market until September.”

 

“You think she's slacking?”

 

Narumi shrugged. “It's possible.”

 

Takeshi threw his hands up in frustration. “Why is it that you can't be happy for my new position at the Capsule Corp.?” he demanded.

 

“We are happy for you, Takeshi-chan,” his mother soothed. “Just… I don't know. I know she's your employer, but… I don't know….”

 

“Don't get mixed up in Briefs' personal affairs,” Narumi cautioned, as her mother's words once again faltered. The older woman always had had trouble giving Takeshi advice with something he was dead-set against doing his own way.

 

“How would I even begin to do that?” Takeshi snapped. “I don't live there, I work there. And I'm starting off as a lower scientist, so I'll see little of Miss Briefs anyway.”

 

“It was just a word of warning,” his younger sister shot back.

 

///

 

At the same moment, the woman in question was sitting blearily at her kitchen table, a coffee cup folded in her hands. She had been up late for several nights and up early for just as many mornings. Sleep deprivation was finally taking its toll on her, and no amounts of caffeine seemed to be able to keep her awake and focused. What she needed most was a nice, long, undisturbed sleep.

 

But even when she managed to retire to bed early, as she had that night in hopes of getting a decent amount of sleep before waking up at the crack of dawn the following morning, her dreams were plagued with horror. Submersing herself in her work, she mad managed to escape the thoughts during the day, for the most part, but she could do nothing about it while she slept. She spent her nights tossing and turning beneath her sheets, waking sporadically to find herself slick with sweat as though she was outside in the raging Indian summer heat rather than in her cool, air-conditioned home. She supposed that it wouldn't be half as bad if she forgot the nightmares as soon as she woke, though she would be frustrated to no end, but the images of the dream remained vivid in her mind, not even having the opportunity to fade before she dreamt them yet again.

 

Each dream was different - sometimes she was at the Capsule Corporation, sometimes she was downtown, sometimes she was at Goku's house. Sometimes, in the more terrifying dreams, she was in a completely unfamiliar place where she recognized nothing and knew no one. But in each dream the end result was the same: Androids slaughtered her friends and family, as the mysterious boy from the future tried in vain to warn them again and again. Sometimes, a swarthy figure with flame-like hair, his features blurred and distorted and hidden in shadow, would stand arrogantly in the middle of the destruction, unharmed, and she would shout to him to destroy the androids, for they were never looking in his direction. And sometimes the figure would try, but always fail. Other times, such as that night, he would turn his cold, piercing stare upon Bulma and aim his blast towards her. She always woke before the attack struck her, whether it was an attack from the androids or the shrouded man.

 

She knew without question who the man in the shadows was, and she understood why sometimes he helped her and why other times he meant to kill her. Prince Vegeta of the Saiya-jin had been, if he wasn't still, a murderer of innocents, who had initially arrived on her planet bent on destroying it. He had sent many of her friends to the Otherworld: Tien, Choutzu, Piccolo, and - most painful to her - Yamcha. From this came the aspect of the dream where he stared at her and sent a Ki blast in her direction.

 

Yet on Namek, while Bulma, Gohan, and Krillin had sought the Dragonballs, Vegeta had helped them. Arrogantly, perhaps, and most certainly unwillingly, but he had helped them nonetheless. And he had died by Frieza's hand while on Namek in his attempt to further help the Z Fighters and destroy the tyrant. Moreover, Vegeta had jumped at the chance to help defend Earth when Frieza showed up, not dead as everyone had thought, though Bulma suspected this eagerness to help was Vegeta merely wanting the opportunity to seek his revenge on the mad dictator. However, when news of the androids' arrival in three years time reached them, Vegeta made the decision to stay on Earth and help them fight that battle, too - as long as he had a gravity room similar to the one Goku had had to train in. A small price to pay for additional help, Bulma had thought, and offered Vegeta a place to stay at the Capsule Corporation. It was Vegeta's offer of allying, at least temporarily, that caused some dreams to end with Vegeta testing his skill against that of the androids; to Bulma's horror Vegeta, too, fell victim. The androids had murdered everyone.

 

Though she had thought it a kind, hospitable gesture at the time, not one she would fully regret later, and at least not one she would regret so soon, Bulma Briefs definitely regretted offering Vegeta free room and board at the Capsule Corporation. Not just because the egotistical warrior expected everyone, her especially, to obey and comply to his every whim when it was issued, not just because he destroyed the gravity room on a regular basis, further adding to Bulma's insane workload, not just because he had the appetite of an army of a hundred men, and not just because he liked to ignore her graciousness as though she had begged him to stay on the compound rather than inviting him openly, but because Yamcha Takarabi hated Vegeta with every fibre of his being, hated being around him, and hated the fact that Bulma lived in the same household as him.

 

It was perfectly understandable to Bulma that her boyfriend should so despise her houseguest - Yamcha had been killed by Vegeta, albeit indirectly. But at the same time, Bulma had often impressed upon Yamcha that Vegeta had offered his strength and fighting ability to help Earth purge itself of the androids when they arrived - whom, Bulma often reminded the scarred warrior, had completely destroyed the world in which the future boy lived. It was clear that Yamcha still loathed the Saiya-jin, and would often go on heated tangents about the insolent warrior, but he had stopped trying to convince Bulma to kick Vegeta out and force him to “live with the monkeys he rules.” This comment especially had brought a chastising from Bulma, as she angrily reminded him that Goku was a Saiya-jin, too, and also had the ability to turn into an oozaru. Yamcha didn't have to like him, Bulma reasoned, but there was no reason to go causing trouble with Vegeta. The prince was like a barrel full of gunpowder and Yamcha the lighted match - if the human got too close then all hell would break loose.

 

But at the moment, Bulma had little sympathy for Vegeta, though she rarely had sympathy for him, as her dream replayed itself unbidden in her head. Her mind was a beehive, scrambling her thoughts in with the flashing images of the nightmare.

 

A dream-picture came to her mind of an android plowing through Krillin effortlessly. The short monk's eyes widened in astonishment and pain as blood spurted from his chest, staining the orange of his gi, and he collapsed onto the ground, unmoving.

 

The aircars were due to hit the market in a week and a half. She was content in her knowledge that all her Capsule Corporation chains across the world were making last-minute arrangements before the new Inazuma model was finally released. But she was still worried, as she always was, that she would make no profits off the new model - moreso now than usual as the release date was later than all the competing companies, later than her aircars typically hit the market, and later than she would have liked.

 

The androids had turned their attention to Tien, smashing the back of his head in with a single, powerful blow, rendering the cyclops useless. His skull had been pounded into the back of his brain, and there was no hope for him. Bulma watched in horror as Tien sank to the ground near Krillin, her mouth an O.

 

She really was tired, perhaps she should try to go back to sleep. The coffee certainly wasn't doing anything to keep her awake, it was only her fear of the dreams. Tomorrow she would have a busy day: Thirty new scientists would be starting at the Capsule Corporation and she would need to give them the grand tour before setting them to work, and then she would have to spend most of the day - indeed, most of the next few days - making sure they were settling in and doing everything correctly.

 

Choutzu bellowed in fury as he, too, watched the androids murder Tien. The china doll rushed out onto the battle scene, prepared to fight to the death for his friends and home. He met death much too soon, and without much of a fight, as a thin jet of energy shot from an android's index finger and pierced Choutzu right through the heart. He dropped from the sky, landing with a thud in the dirt, blood pooling around him.

 

She should go shopping soon, she mused. It had been a while since she'd gone to the mall, her current busy schedule allowing for little to no recreational time for herself. All recent purchases had been made online, and most of them had been necessities. Though she was somewhat materialistic, courtesy of her wealthy upbringing and continued prosperity through her adulthood, she wasn't a woman who craved the hubbub of the mall and went through withdrawals after periods without setting foot inside one. However, it had been just over two months since she'd gone, and more than the mall she just needed some time alone to relax and not worry about work or androids. But she did need to be doing something, occupying herself somehow, or else thoughts of three years later would creep up on her. The mall, Bulma concluded, seemed to be the perfect place to relax as she browsed through the stores, keeping her mind on shopping rather than the androids.

 

Piccolo went after the androids next, miraculously managing to get an attack in on them. However, the powerful Ki blast did little to the android, and it turned around calmly and returned the attack with one of its own. The force behind it was so great that it sent the Namek flying backwards into a wall that had once been part of a building - but not before it detached Piccolo's torso from his legs. Bulma had allowed herself a triumphant smirk here, for she knew that Nameks possessed the ability to regrow their limbs. But it seemed as though the android knew this too, because it walked calmly but surely towards Piccolo and drove another blast through his heart.

 

The groan of the ceiling told her someone was up and about upstairs - probably her father on his way to the bathroom. His habit of drinking tea right before bed ensured that he was always up during the night at some point rushing to relieve himself. A half-smile came to Bulma's lips as she looked down at her own coffee cup. She would have to remember to go to the bathroom before she went back to bed.

 

Gohan had watched Piccolo go down with his eyes wide, his face pale, and his mouth agape. Piccolo, who had been akin to a father to him, had been killed! and Bulma could see the absolute rage in the boy's eyes as he turned his gaze upon the murdering android. But the android spotted him before Gohan could even make a move, and the boy was felled instantly. A last, gurgling breath escaped him before he remained motionless.

 

Taking a sip of her coffee, Bulma found that it was cold. She was surprised that she had been awake so long, but brought the mug to the microwave for a blast of heat. She vaguely wondered if a Ki blast would warm a coffee much faster, assuming, of course, that the blast of energy didn't destroy the cup altogether. Not that it mattered, she realized, a microwave got the job done.

 

Goku gave a tormented cry as he watched his friends and son fall one by one to the androids. Crackling energy surrounded him in an aura, and Bulma was sure of his victory. Though she neither heard nor saw the android say it, she knew that the android had reminded the warm-hearted Saiya-jin that he was plagued by a heart disease. She knew that Goku had responded that the boy from the future had supplied him with medicine. And she knew that the android had laughed mockingly and asked why was it, then, that Goku still clutched at his heart and tried to ignore the pain. And then he, too, fell as the aura disappeared.

 

The beeping of the microwave brought Bulma fully back to her senses before the dream finished repeating and she wondered for a tense moment if the sound had woken anyone in the house. Then she decided she didn't care - her father was probably already awake, her mother slept through everything, and if the Saiya-jin woke then that was of no concern to her. Crankily, as she often was in her exhaustion, Bulma slammed the microwave door shut and drained the last of her coffee. Dumping the mug into the sink to be placed into the dishwasher later, she dragged herself upstairs to her room, hoping that she would dream no more of the androids and death that night. She collapsed upon her bed, forgetting to go to the bathroom, and fell into a dreamless sleep immediately, much to her relief when she woke three hours earlier.

 

///

 

Bulma stifled a yawn as she waited for the last of her new employees to file into the large foyer of the office building. It was nine o'clock, and although she had told the employees that work on the first day would begin at nine-thirty, she was sure that the majority of them were already there, milling about and talking amongst each other. She herself was a couple floors above them, out of view unless someone chose to look directly skyward, leaning on the rail and not fully up to descending to the crowd. The air was thick with the anxiousness and nervousness of the new employees, as though they were sixteen again and beginning their first summer job, but mostly there was excitement. And while Bulma prided herself in normally being an active, energized woman, the dark circles under her eyes that morning told a different story.

 

Her secretary, Aiko, approached her a few minutes later. “Time to go down, Bulma,” she told her. “It's almost nine-thirty and you have to make your introduction speech.”

 

Bulma raised her eyebrows at the older lady. Aiko looked more the part of a company president than Bulma did at that moment. The secretary's dark hair was immaculate, her makeup appeared natural and wasn't smudged at all, and her nails were freshly manicured and neat. Even her clothes were perfect - a navy green knee-length skirt with a matching green jacket, and a cream-coloured blouse underneath, accessorized with silver jewelry and dark green heels, and Bulma couldn't help but compare this attire to her own faded jeans, white T-shirt and heavy lab coat. “It's a speech?” Bulma asked. “I always just winged it.”

 

Aiko frowned slightly. “That's not very professional.”

 

“Nobody would listen to anything I said if it was professional. They'd tune me out within two minutes. When I wing it it's more casual and they tend to listen more.” Bulma grinned. “That's what I learned from school.”

 

Aiko rolled her eyes but chuckled slightly. “Just go downstairs.”

 

Bulma made her way down the stairs and was immediately approached by a young woman she didn't recognize - she must of have had an interview with her father. “Bulma Briefs!” the woman gushed, grasping Bulma's hand. “It's an honour to meet you, a woman of your stature and intelligence… you must be very proud of your accomplishments!”

 

Bulma smiled awkwardly. “Uh… well, yes,” she said, pulling her hand free.

 

“Is it true that you hope to win a Nobel Prize?” the woman continued, unaware that Bulma was looking rather uncomfortable. “I would love to help you with that dream. Do you have any ideas for inventions that you think might win it? I have a few suggestions, maybe you would like to hear them sometime?”

 

“Yeah, that'd be great,” Bulma said, sidestepping away from the overexcited woman. “Later, though, right now I have to… prepare for the tour.”

 

“Alright, then!” the woman said. “Don't let me keep you!” As Bulma watched her bounce into the crowd, she couldn't help but think that perhaps Aiko was wrong - the woman had acted like a teenager who'd finally met the superstar celebrity she'd been crushing on since as long as she could remember.

 

Frowning, and adjusting her lab coat to make herself appear less conspicuous, she made her way to the desk sitting to the right of the foyer. Normally there was a secretary there, but Bulma had relieved her of her duties until the tour was underway - the elderly woman was prone to fainting under stressful, loud, or exciting circumstances. And the new employees were definitely all three.

 

Bulma cut across the foyer near the elevators, skirting around the large group, but passing close by a group of five or so talking quietly amongst themselves. If only everyone were more reserved like that, Bulma found herself thinking as she walked by them, but she stopped short as she caught a glimpse of what they were saying.

 

“…they're acting as though she has less integrity because she has martial artist friends,” one man was saying.

 

“What's wrong with having martial artist friends?” one woman asked. “Isn't that a good thing? They could act as bodyguards, couldn't they? And for Bulma Briefs I'm assuming that would probably be a good thing, having a bodyguard.”

 

“They're saying these aren't regular people,” another man said almost ominously. “They're freaks! They can fly and everything, as though they had wings.”

 

“And then there's the short man who lives here,” the first man explained. “He's like a menace to society. He threatens the employees when they bother him, he threatens Briefs, he even threatens her boyfriend.”

 

“But isn't her boyfriend a martial artist?” the woman inquired.

 

“Yes, but so is this short man, and it seems as though he's even better. Apparently he got in a fight with Yamcha Takarabi and won.”

 

Bulma stood stiffly, her head slowly turning to watch the crowd. How did they know all this? she thought furiously. What were they, paparazzi? How did they know that Yamcha and Vegeta had had a fight? How did they know her friends could fly? And how dare they insult her integrity because of it?

 

Another woman flicked her hand dismissively. “I don't see the big deal. So Bulma Briefs has strange friends, don't we all know weird people? That doesn't make her any less of a brilliant scientist. And I don't think it questions her integrity.”

 

“I think so!” the second man insisted. “What kind of a person lets a man live with her when he beats up her boyfriend? And apparently this man is constantly blowing things up in the back of the compound. Takeshi's right, he is a menace. I'm having second thoughts about working here, if this is the kind of people Briefs hangs around with.”

 

“Then, sir, you can remove yourself from the compound immediately,” Bulma said hotly, approaching the group. “Anyone else with second thoughts can also leave.”

 

The group started and stared at her, awkward and embarrassed. “Miss Briefs!” the second man exclaimed. “How are you today?”

 

Bulma eyed him angrily. “I would be a whole hell of a lot better if you kept your nose where it belonged and didn't talk about what you don't understand.”

 

The man shifted uncomfortably. “I'm sorry, Miss Briefs,” he said uneasily. “It's just… that's what they're saying, after all.”

 

“They're saying that I have no integrity because my friends happen to be more talented than you?” she demanded, breathing fire. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that it was a mistake to show her temper to her new employees, but irritated from the lack of sleep and angered by their comments, she continued on her tangent. “You are an employee, sir, not my friend. What I do in my free time and with my friends is of no concern to you! I don't think that my personal life in any way affects my business. That is all you are to concern yourself with - my business! I hired you all as scientists for my business, not my personal life! If you disagree, you know where the door is. But I won't tolerate this… mutiny in my labs, not when it has nothing to do with what you've been hired for! If you have a complaint about how I run my company, I'm willing to listen. But don't complain to me about how I live my life! Is that understood? If you are considering walking off the job - before you've even begun! - because of my lifestyle, then there is no place for you here.”

 

The scientists stared at her. They had heard of Bulma Briefs' infamous temper, but had never fully believed it, nor expected to be witness to it so soon. More uncomfortable was the fact that the entire group of new employees had stopped talking to watch, the pitch of Bulma's voice having carried across the foyer and interrupting conversations.

 

While the other scientists in the group mumbled hasty apologizes, the second man's eyes narrowed. “I didn't accept this job so that you could stand here and yell at me for expressing my opinion, Miss Briefs,” he said coldly.

 

She returned his glare evenly. “If that's your opinion than you can take it elsewhere - preferably off my compound.”

 

“I think I will,” he said, “if this is the kind of person you are. It doesn't matter how brilliant or wealthy you are, if you're a bitch then I won't put up with you.”

 

“What did I just tell you do to with your opinions? If you don't remove yourself, I'll have you removed. And that short guy, Vegeta, he's a real prick about it and he'll make damn sure people see you being thrown off the property.”

 

This comment caused him to shut his mouth for more than one reason. He had no desire to be pitched bodily off the Capsule Corporation compound, but it also suddenly struck him that perhaps the short guy everyone had been hearing so much about was a new security guard - and this thought especially caused him to feel exceedingly stupid. It certainly seemed to explain a lot. But with as much dignity as the shamed ex-scientist could muster, he turned his back on Bulma and walked out of the building.

 

“The tour's been canceled!” Bulma bellowed angrily to the crowd. “Aiko will show you to your new positions.” She pointed to the secretary who had just charged uncharacteristically down the stairs at the sound of Bulma shouting, and, as all eyes turned to face her, she instantly straightened her clothes and patted her hair. Bulma, meanwhile, stomped through the doors and made her way back to her house, where she collapsed in the same chair she had occupied for much of the night before, and fumed.

 

They think they know everything, those ignorant, gossiping assholes! she thought. If they knew the real reason Vegeta was here, if they knew the real reason my friends fly, if they knew the real reason Vegeta was demolishing gravity room after gravity room, they wouldn't be criticizing! They would be worshipping the ground we walked on! The Z Fighters save their asses time and time again, and most certainly not for the credit. The people of Earth don't even know about the threats. If they only did, I would grind it in their faces until it bloodied them, and then we'd see who thinks lowly of whom!

 

///

 

“Something's bothering you.”

 

“It's nothing.”

 

“No, it's definitely something.”

 

“Fine, it is something.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No, I don't.”

 

Yamcha sighed, and eyed Bulma across the kitchen table. “Are you sure?”

 

Bulma looked up for the first time from picking at a spot on the wood, her eyes full of fire. “Do you know what people are saying?” she cried.

 

Yamcha looked bewildered. “About what?”

 

“About me! About the kind of friends I have! About you, about Vegeta! About how I somehow have no… honour or some damn thing!”

 

Yamcha stared at her, thoroughly confused. “They're saying you have no honour? But… why? How can they say that? You're president of one of the largest companies in the world, how isn't that honourable?”

 

“I don't know!”

 

Yamcha leaned back in his chair. “Okay, explain this to me from the beginning. What happened?”

 

Bulma hesitated, then drew in a deep breath and threw herself into her story, her voice raising octaves as her rant progressed. Yamcha bravely held his ground and remained seated at the table, wincing only a few times at Bulma's pitch.

 

“…and so finally I have to threaten the bastard that I'll have him thrown off the property!” she concluded loudly. Then, after a brief pause, she added rather calmly, “By Vegeta.”

 

Yamcha looked at her rather skeptically. “You think Vegeta would actually do you a favour like that?”

 

“No.”

 

“So you lied to your employees?”

 

Bulma's eyes shot flames again. “Don't nitpick, and don't lecture me on it either. I think that's beside the point.”

 

Yamcha nodded his agreement, then said, “But it doesn't really matter…. We choose to help people because it's the right thing to do, not because we want fame and money and recognition. I mean, yeah, sometimes it would be nice, but that's not why we do what we do. If people want to think lowly of you because of it, it isn't your problem - it's theirs. You know you can't please everyone, why bother trying? If people choose to think you have no honour or whatever it was they said, that's their own ignorance.” As Bulma's face contorted into a look that let Yamcha know she was about to start yelling, he added hastily, “I'm not saying what you did was wrong! I think that the guy was an asshole and didn't deserve to work for you. And the best way to let newbies know who the boss is to put the fear of God into them, which I believe you have accomplished. They'll learn soon enough who you are as a person and a scientist, and they can either choose to change their opinions or not.” He shrugged. “I'm not trying to sound wise or anything, that's just what I think. I think you should take some time to cool down. How did the tour end up going?”

 

“I cancelled it,” she muttered. “I was pissed and tired.”

 

“I think you should reschedule it,” he said, “for all your new employees, just so they know that you have nothing against them. You don't, right?” At her head shake, Yamcha nodded. “Exactly. I just think you should do it soon before they learn their way around campus on their own and don't really care.”

 

Bulma sighed. “I feel like an ass now. Boyfriends aren't supposed to make their girlfriends feel like asses.”

 

Yamcha laughed loudly. “But that's the only thing we're good at!”

 

“That and being asses.”

 

///

 

“This is the astronomy section of our labs. We don't specialize in astronomy or space, but we have made several contributions to NASA and JAXA, so we like to keep tabs on what goes on beyond our planet.” Bulma was gesturing to a large telescope as she spoke, and wisely didn't mention her Namekian or Saiya-jin friends.

 

The group of fresh employees behind her made `ooh' and `ahh' sounds from behind her as they also pointed to the telescope and talked among themselves.

 

“Is this telescope open to free usage?” one young woman asked. “Would we be able to try it ourselves on our own time?”

 

“The telescope is open to the public for a fee,” Bulma replied, “but free to all Capsule Corp. employees. The only condition is that the telescope not be used unless Tada-shi is available to supervise, since he's heads our Space and Astronomy department. This is usually any time during the standard work day, though I can't guarantee he won't be busy using the telescope himself. Public hours are Friday and Saturday from seven to nine-thirty. I also recommend not using the telescope while Vegeta-san is using it.”

 

She had recently discovered, courtesy of Tada Hiryuu, that Vegeta used the telescope on a regular basis, breaking the unwritten rule of Tada-shi supervision while using it, and had a tendency to look through it for hours “without even noticing the time” as Hiryuu said. Bulma didn't have a hard time believing or understanding this. Vegeta had lived his whole life in space, and had never really lived on one particular planet the way he was now. He wasn't just a warrior, Bulma knew, but an adventurer too, an explorer. And she was sure that he missed the excitement and adrenaline and travel.

 

A low murmur rumbled through the group at Vegeta's name. And Bulma decided to take the opportunity to give an explanation - a lie, maybe, but it would bring some of the attention and mystery away from the prince. “Vegeta-san is staying with me as a houseguest while he's away from his own home. He is also acting as somewhat of a security guard in exchange for some scientific knowledge - his main interest is astronomy. He is not yet completely adapted to our Japanese lifestyle and culture, and I'm sure that he feels somewhat out of place.” She allowed herself to smile and chuckle. “If you haven't already discovered, Vegeta-san can be very difficult to get along with sometimes, but I ask that you try to treat him with some respect and not try to bother him more than necessary. I imagine that he is very homesick.”

 

The explanation seemed to suffice, as she saw even the first man from the original orientation day - the one who had been called Takeshi - process this information with ease and come to an understanding. Some people nodded, while she could see the comprehension in other people's eyes. It took some of the mystery and magic out of the strange, martial artist houseguest of Bulma Briefs, and she was sure that there would be less talk and less chance that any of these new, inexperienced employees would attempt to strike up a conversation with Vegeta. Perhaps it didn't explain her other friends, but it would make Vegeta less of a target.

 

As she turned around to continue conducting her tour, she smiled proudly to herself. Not only had she just evaded what could potentially be the most trouble she would have with Vegeta during his stay, but she had also redeemed herself in the eyes of many.

 

///

 

A/N: Just some quick notes on some of the things in this chapter:

JAXA is the Japanese equivalent of NASA.

The suffix -shi is the middle ground between “-san and -sama in terms of politeness, and is mostly used for professionals like engineers or lawyers.” (http://www.jref.com/language/japanese_suffixes.shtml) Since Tada Hiryuu is the head scientist for the Capsule Corp. Science and Astronomy department, I'm fairly certain he would have the status of a professional.