Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Cousin ❯ Earth's the Place ( Chapter 7 )

A/N: As everyone SHOULD know, it's not necessary to post a disclaimer on every chapter. Also, these chapters may be coming out slowly, but I'm working harder on them and still doing three other stories. Ahm.. Yah. Soon I will be posting a list of the rest of the Radditz Bloodline Saga books, and then all the linking books to the second saga, "Space Monkey." Yep. It'll be that long. ^_^

Chapter 7

Earth's the Place

"TRUNKS! Where have you BEEN?!" The tall, lavender haired boy spun too quickly, tripping on the time machine's outstretched metal foot. He plummeted face first into the dirt, someone violently grabbing onto his pantleg. Nose bumping against various objects, arms waving in the air uselessly, Trunks was dragged onto a cold, hard floor.

"MOOOOOM!" He let out a shrill whine, hands splayed on the blackened tile. Getting up, he held his nose with one hand and cleared dirt from his eyes with the other, keeping his fluttering gaze on his mother. Bulma stood, her faded blue hair in a sloppy ponytail, and a very displeased frown etched onto her face. She tapped one finger expectantly on the table, her other hand resting on her hip.

Trunks lowered his gaze, tucking his arms behind his back. The one person he hated to face in a situation like this was his mother.

"I asked you once, I'll only ask you one more time. Where. Have. You. Been?!" she shrieked, sending shivers up his spine.

"Assessing the android situation," Trunks replied coolly, keeping his eyes everywhere except his mother.

Bulma snickered. "Don't lie. I forbid you from going back until the time the Androids arrive." The boy's mouth dropped open, his eyes widening.

"But-" Trunks was cut off.

"No buts about it! You should be training, not being flirtatious!" Bulma eyed him, moving away from the table towards a brewing pot of coffee.

The tall, blue eyed boy sighed, sitting on a rickety chair beside the counter. Outside, the sky was a bleak gray, thick with the smoke of a thousand devastated cities. Various fires still billowed up all about them, but Bulma's bunker had kept the two secluded from harm since the initial attack.

Setting a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, Bulma took a seat across the table. She sipped it in silence, her eyes trained on her son, whose gaze portrayed his distant thoughts. She knew it was wrong to keep him here, where no real world existed, but her sense of logic knew that her machine was not built for rapid travel.

A sudden explosion rocked the ground, Bulma clutching the table for support. A porcelain vase tipped off a shelf, shattering across the tile. Trunks snapped out of his trance, looking at the white, broken pieces scattered across the dank floor.

Bulma looked up, just in time to dodge another falling object. The loud splitting of glass reverberated off the walls, an empty, wooden frame skittering across the ground. Trunks got to his feet, Bulma too shocked to move.

Picking up the frame, he almost dropped it once more. It must have become blended into the scenery of the dugout, for he could swear he'd never laid eyes upon it before.

Standing around, full of smiles, were Goku and Chichi, the former blushing as he held his wife with one arm. The other rested on the head of his son, Gohan, his black hair sticking out in every direction much like his father's. On one side of the happy family stood Bulma, one arm hidden behind a large blot of white. Yamcha's hair could still be seen standing up over the top of the white-out. Tien, Chaotzu, and Krillin stood on the other side, the rear of the picture completed by Piccolo, arms crossed.

There was someone missing!

Throwing the frame to the ground, Trunks gritted his teeth and stomped out of the room. Bulma blinked in confusion at the sudden outburst. Shaking it off, she got up to clean up the various pieces of fragile ornament littering the tiled floor.

~*~

The morning was still heavy with dew, the pine covered mountains gleaming in the humid air. A group of crows squawked overhead, their black bodies shining a bright ebony in the ruby light of dawn. Commotion below interrupted the serenity of this daybreak, nocturnal animals returning early to bed from the racket. Humans bustled back and forth, the smell of bacon and eggs filling the chilly air. Clouds sniffed the rising smoke, fleeing to the mountains to allow a bright, blue sky to reign, fitted with amber streaks.

Below swirling bands of birds and thin, renegade mists sat a house, clearly Capsule in design. Standing out front the igloo-like entrance stood two young Saiyans, a large, black-maned dog chasing various field animals a few feet away.

"You're leaving?!" A sharp tug on her shirt finally caught Ona's attention. Gohan stared up at her with wide, watery eyes, fingers clutching the white fabric of her outfit.

"Let me go, and yes. I said I would go back to Capsule Corporation as soon as Vegeta returned. It seems he's decided to be a little more domestic," the older Saiyan replied composedly, brushing her fingers through her forest-green hair before slinging a duffel bag over her shoulder. Tanjua barked, bouncing up to his mistress and nudging her hand with his big, wet nose. Gohan petted the giant animal's ear, smiling as the San turned and tackled the little boy with licks.

Goku stepped out of the small house, a huge fish still flopping in his arms. Ona's eyes widened, more-so when the fish came flopping through the air and straight at her face. She dodged just in time, grabbing the slimy creature's tail in one hand.

"KAKKAROT! What the HELL was that?!" Ona cried, holding the wiggling fish in front of her as if it would sting her at any moment. Gohan burst into laughter, Goku watching her with a confused expression.

"It's a fish. I thought you might need something to eat, since you're missing Chichi's awesome breakfast!" he informed her cheerily, his niece rolling her eyes.

"That's really alright. I'll survive just fine," Ona assured him, her voice reeking of sarcasm. Goku, of course, missed it completely.

He knitted his brows, then smiled. "Alright!" Bouncing back into the house like a five-year-old, Goku's apparent carefree demeanor was corrupted instantly when Chichi let out a loud screech. Running out the front door came the older Saiyan, blowing air on his hands frantically. Ona could distinctly smell the hot grease covering the poor man, and grinned.

"What'd you do this time?" she asked casually, Goku stopping his frantic fanning to glare back into his house.

"Those eggs looked SO good!" he cried in defense. Gohan stood a few feet off, face red from holding in laughter.

The party was interrupted thankfully, when Piccolo dropped in. Landing next to Gohan, he adjusted his obviously weighted turban over his antennae.

Gohan looked up curiously at his mentor, smiling. "What are you doing here, Mr. Piccolo?" he asked innocently, earning a slight smirk from the nasty old Namek. Rather than gracing the boy with a response, he walked towards Ona and crossed his arms, standing far enough that he could look her in the eye.

"You're coming with me, I take it?" she asked speculatively, looking at Piccolo from the corner of her eye as she turned to Tanjua. Slinging the duffel bag over the San's high wither, she jumped onto his back and glanced at the group.

Piccolo nodded, both Goku and Gohan looking at him in surprise. Ignoring them momentarily, Piccolo nodded and walked towards the teenage Saiyan and her mount.

Suddenly, the front door burst open, and Chichi rushed out. Grabbing Ona's hand, the woman smiled. "Watch yourself out there!" she instructed the younger girl, patting her palm before disappearing back into the house. The two foreigners raised an eyebrow in synchronism, Goku chuckling to himself.

"Have a good ride, and give Vegeta my.. my regards!" he said, waving to Ona. She smiled a bit, watching as her uncle picked up his son, propped him on one shoulder, and disappeared back into the house.

~*~

"What did you want to talk about?" Ona asked, breaking the silence at last. They had been running for some time, slow enough that Tanjua got some exercise, and fast enough that they wouldn't be going for the next two months.

"Why are you going back to Capsule Corporation? Why is Vegeta so important to you?" Piccolo inquired, his voice attempting to not betray his deeper curiosity. Ona tilted her head, loosening her grip on the San's mane.

"He's not useful for anything besides training me," she replied at last, keeping her eyes on his. Piccolo suddenly chuckled.

"You know what's funny, is that you're completely telling the truth." Ona nodded slowly, confusion plainly written on her smooth features.

"Why would I lie about it?" she asked, obviously bewildered.

Piccolo snorted. "I don't know, I suppose. Saiyans like you and him usually deny your feelings," he conceded, furrowing his brows and shifting his focus to the path ahead. Ona chuckled.

"Vegeta will deny his feelings all he wants. I have no feelings to deny," she said, the truth in her voice ringing clear as a bell. Unused to such bluntness, Piccolo rubbed his forehead with one long-nailed finger, smoothing a thoughtful crease in his brow.

The landscape was changing more and more rapidly, the once green, jagged rocks of the mountains drooping into hills of brush and weeds. The area was littered with the remains of numerous fires, if the various logs of charcoal scattered about were any indication. Tanjua skipped pleasantly over every obstacle, from prickly pine to boulder.

"What I don't understand is, why are you going back?" Piccolo asked, splitting the silence. "Surely we are enough of a challenge for you," he added, his words dripping with sarcasm and tinged with amusement. Ona smirked.

"No. Vegeta and I are a symbiosis... He knows me well enough that we train well together. I belong with real Saiyans," she replied, her voice becoming husky as her eyes dropped to the ground. Piccolo raised an eyebrow, slowing down to match Tanjua's receding speed. He seemed to catch on easily to his mistress' moods, adding to Piccolo's firm belief that the two could speak telepathically. The Namek had first started noticing it not too long ago, when they were sparring and Ona merely looked at the San. He had gotten up and walked off, coming back not much later with Gohan clinging to his mane for dear life.

"I'm.. I'm starting to understand you. While you are training with Vegeta.." Piccolo paused, Ona raising her gaze and raising an eyebrow in question. Regaining a bit of confidence, he smirked at her. "If you would like to spar with me every once in a while," he asked at last. Ona, in vain, attempted to keep a smile from spreading across her face.

"Um.. I'd like that.. Why me, though?" Eyebrows lowering evilly, she added, "Surely they are enough of a challenge for you." Piccolo snorted, stopping suddenly.

"You're stronger than you let on, and you have more potential than anyone I've met," he said suddenly, turning on his heel and heading the other direction, waving.

Ona blinked, watching him disappear in a white streak.

"What was that all about, Tanjua?" she asked, a bit rhetorically.

<Didn't you notice the way they looked at you when you lost your temper?> he countered, smirking as only Sans could. Ona snickered.

"Let's go home."

~*~

"Ona!" The teenager turned, raising an eyebrow as she hopped from Tanjua's back. Bulma came thundering from the open kitchen door, running up to the two new arrivals. "Where have you been?!" she cried, suddenly throwing Ona into a large hug. Eyes widening, the Saiyan slowly pried the blue-haired woman off.

A gruff voice cleared its throat, drawing the attention from both women. Vegeta stood, face in his trademark scowl, and his arms crossed in front of his chest. His clothes were tattered, smoke rising out of the ominous gravity room behind him. He raised one eyebrow at the exchange before him, a small leaf toppling onto him from an overhead tree.

"Where have you been?" Vegeta asked in a low, warning tone. Bulma's eyes widened, and she hurriedly set to putting Tanjua to work inside the house. Ona watched her leave with dismay, then turned back to him.

"I could ask the same for you," she retorted, propping one hand on her hip.

"I'm not telling if you don't," he replied, neither recognizing the childish meaning in his words with his rough edged voice.

"Me neither."

"Hmph."

"Hmph." They turned their backs to one another, each crossing their arms and sticking their nose in the air.

Bulma peered out the sliding glass door, bursting out laughing. Neither noticed, the two Saiyans glaring at each other from the corner of their eyes.

"You probably want to train," Vegeta said, still keeping his back to her.

"Yeah. So what?" Ona's tail tightened its grip around her waist, the end twitching in irritation.

"I'm going to the GR," he added, still unmoving.

"Me too. Get out of my way," Ona replied. They turned at the same time, arms still crossed, and walked side by side towards the small, white ship.

Bulma blinked, taking her excuse for watching this turn of events off the window pane, grinning and wringing out the unused rag in the sink.

~*~

Trunks sat on the front step, running a finger along the tiny grooves in the cement. They pricked his skin, drawing him into deeper concentration on the mundane activity. His mind began to wander back to the photo, focusing onto the two empty spaces left as he merged the image with his memory of the fighters. He could understand why Vegeta was not in the picture, but Ona? How come mom didn't remember her?

Rubbing his temples, Trunks rose from the step, his feet shakily crunching bits of debris all about the mutilated sidewalk. He walked to the still crackling time machine, running a hand along the small letters his mother had written not too long ago. Hope!!. Ona. Ona was his hope; she had the fire to grow strong, and the heritage to rise to new levels. Still confronted with the mystery of her past, Trunks was slowly putting together the pieces. All he needed was to ask her a question or two, and train her!

Clenching his fist at his side, Trunks' eyes squeezed shut in frustration. There must be something I can do... I'm almost eighteen anyway! Mother can't dictate me anymore, he thought at last, slamming a fist into the wall defiantly.

"Tonight," he said aloud, "I will do everything in my power to ensure the safety of my past..." he trailed off for a moment. "And my future."

~*~

In complete silence, the Saiyan tiptoed down the hall from his bedroom, the door slightly ajar. A soft starlight trickled in through the high rectangular window, the room lit by little glow-in-the-dark stars that his mother had taped on the walls when he was a child.

Trunks made his way into the kitchen, the tile floor squeaking slightly with his each step. Then it occurred to him.

Raising off the ground, he floated slowly out the door, keeping his energy at the minimum. Quietly closing the metal barrier behind him, Trunks took a small capsule out of his pocket and threw it. A cloud of smoke appeared, billowing into the air in puffs of orange and yellow, finally dispersing in the cool night breeze.

Climbing into the time machine, Trunks switched on the main control panel. The machine came to life, whirring and purring quietly enough that he would be long gone if his mother did wake up.

Entering the date, the Saiyan engaged the capsule, closing his eyes in anticipation. It hummed to life, suddenly sputtering as the LCD display flashed bright green letters.

"...Error..?" Trunks read aloud, eyes widening. "That's strange.." Setting the date ahead a month, he tried again, but the machine responded with the same message.

"MOM!" he cried in realization, slamming a fist into the control panel. It shuddered, the display flickering in response. I can't override her coding, Trunks admitted to himself, running his fingers along the various buttons used to operate the capsule. He advanced the destination by a month, trying once more. Nothing.

Letting out a howl of frustration beneath the soundproof glass dome, he slammed his spread hands into the display, withdrawing them and nursing a throbbing finger that had, by mishap, jammed itself into a large, red button.

The machine clicked, the months suddenly starting to spin. The date came to a halt thirty-no.. twenty nine?- months ahead, the digital display reading "ENGAGED" in large, neon letters. Trunks' eyes widened as the machine lifted off the ground, disappearing in a bright flash of light.

Bulma stood at her window, sighing to herself as the capsule left. She had tried.

~*~

Ona growled, pacing back and forth. She had been waiting since sunup for Trunks, and the sky was already a deep maroon and sprinkled with golden stars. The fading light was sliced by the jagged cliffs, the angry Saiyan's body moving like an illusion along a high plateau. She had figured that he had just forgotten where they were supposed to meet, so she had climbed higher to get a full view of the area.

After ten hours of pacing, her shins began to protest, so Ona sat on the edge of the immense mesa. Her feet dangled above a thousand foot drop, the immense height not bothering the tailed creature in the least. Her forest hair blew out of its restrictive ponytail, brushing across her cheeks as the wind picked up slightly. Her sporty exercise shirt ruffled about her stomach as she picked dirt from her jeans, which had been severed at the knee with a crude pair of scissors.

Tanjua slept not too far away, nose hidden beneath one of his immense paws. The San had been waiting patiently all day with his friend, but had finally dozed off when Ona ceased responding to him.

The last rays of sun began to disappear off the horizon, stars peeking their way through the fading light. The valley below was completely enveloped in darkness, giving Ona a chill up her spine.

Well, I don't think he's coming. I'll wait a little longer, I guess...

~*~

Bulma talked away, pouring some coffee for the two men sitting at her table. The shorter, bald one was guzzling it down, paying no heed to the taller, scar-faced man beside him.

Bulma and Yamcha had reconciled on friendly terms, and only friendly terms. Ironically, it was by Yamcha's choice, though he was still sour over being dropped.

"Well boys, what are you doing today, beside taking a break from training?" the blue haired hostess asked cheerily, pausing for a moment to fluff her curly, broccoli-like mane. She leaned one arm against the counter, watching the stoic Yamcha with interest.

"Well, we were thinking of-" Krillin was cut off by the sliding glass door flying open, slamming heavily into the wall. Ona walked in, hair unusually flat, and eyes narrowed dangerously. Bulma scurried out of her way wide-eyed, as the teenager practically ripped the door off the refrigerator.

"Bulma," she said huskily, "where in HELL is the CEREAL?!" Each of the room's three other occupants shrunk back in fear.

"In.. the pantry.." Bulma replied, shuffling towards the large cupboard. She reached inside hesitantly, setting a box of "Sugar O's" on the countertop. Ona nodded a silent thanks, grabbing the box and disappearing back out the sliding glass door.

"Well.. that was interesting," Krillin said after a moment, straightening himself in his chair. Bulma nodded in agreement.

"If you ask me-"

"Which we didn't," Bulma put in.

"-she needs some time off from that Vegeta character," Yamcha finished, shooting his former girlfriend a haughty look. She snorted and turned back to disposing of her mother's "Super Spectacular Special Cupcakes." Yamcha sighed, watching the young Saiyan disappear into the gravity room.

"You have a point there, Yamcha," Krillin said quietly, avoiding the ears of the irritated Bulma. "Maybe we can offer her something?" This earned the monk a bewildered and surprised expression from his fellow fighter. "Not like that, you sicko."

"But, maybe you're right. What would appeal to a Saiyan, though?" Yamcha asked, scratching his chin. Bulma had growled at the both of them before disappearing into her lab upstairs.

"Especially a teenage, female Saiyan," Krillin interjected. They nodded in synchronism.

The two men tapped their fingers on the table in silence, until Yamcha suddenly sprung to his feet.

"Why don't we ask her to train with US?!"

~*~

"What? Why? Vegeta's stronger than the both of you put together," the forest-haired girl scoffed. Krillin sent Yamcha a pathetic look.

"...SO?! There's more to life than power and training," the tall warrior replied. Ona's eyebrows rose visibly. "You need to take a break. Relax. When you rest, it doubles the effect of a workout," Yamcha said in a knowing voice.

"It's only increased by one third, Ya-" Krillin was interrupted by getting kneed in the leg.

"Oops! I'm so sorry, Krillin!" Yamcha cried sarcastically, which, coincidentally, escaped Ona completely.

"Sure you are," Krillin muttered.

"Well.. I guess it wouldn't hurt to get away for a while. I do want to learn more about Earth," she said speculatively.

The two had approached her early the next day, before she started training. The Saiyan tended to be less grumpy before training with Vegeta than after. She had one arm propped against a tree, while Yamcha and Krillin hovered a ways up while wearing their casual clothes. Today was obviously one for the town.

"Then let's go!" Krillin said, grabbing Ona by the hand. She let go of her tree in surprise, being carried off over the Capsule Corporation building.

Vegeta stood, propped against the GR. He had been waiting to have a talk with Ona, but she obviously had had other plans. Growling, the older Saiyan stalked off into the training machine.

~*~

A loud belch echoed down the corridor, the front door slamming right after.

"Oh man, *hic* that was fun.. *hic* Whoa....." Yamcha's eyes rolled back as he slumped against the wall. Ona raised an eyebrow, picking up the black haired man. Krillin was in a similar mode, but not nearly as severe. The entryway of the house was pitch black, but Ona's keen eyes picked up the faintest glimmer of light. Apparently, nightlights still reigned this house.

"I take it you guys are spending the night?" she asked, the Saiyan's voice itching with irritation. The monk nodded, moseying his way towards the couch on unbalanced feet. Ona sighed, propping the unconscious Yamcha on one knee. Seeing nowhere to put him, she carried him up the stairs and into her room.

"Well, we had fun, didn't we?" he said, slightly opening one eye. Ona glared, dropping him unceremoniously on her bed.

"I suppose." Yamcha snorted.

"Will you train with us, then?" he asked, obviously too sloshed to even deliver the question tactfully. Ona raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? I guess," she replied, sitting against the wall on the far end of the room. Yamcha nodded, instantly drifting off in a cluttered mess on her nice, white sheets.

Ona growled, closing her eyes and crossing her arms as she drifted off.

~*~

Bulma walked down the hall towards the library, yawning. She had endured another day of absolutely nothing to do, merely watching the men train, or her father work on another invention, or her mother cook. She felt so useless, she had decided a nice book might cheer her up.

Upon walking into the library, the blue haired woman was greeted with a surprise. Sitting on the large, soft leather chair was Ona, holding a small book upside-down in her hands. She was pushing each page with her index finger, as if expecting a reaction beside the paper crumpling.

"Um.. Excuse me," Bulma said, approaching her. Ona glanced up.

"Oh, it's you. What are these? What is this script?" she asked, turning back to the book in her hands. Bulma giggled, pulling up a smaller foldup chair beside the confused Saiyan.

"It's called a book. You have it upside down," she said, taking the book and flipping it over. Ona raised one eyebrow. The small fireplace was already lit, casting a strangely warm glow on the small room. Shelves covered the walls, filled by books of every color, size, and shape.

"You read from up to down, right to left," Bulma instructed further, pointing along each character on the page.

"Oooh.. What do the characters mean? Are they the written form of your language?" Ona asked, her genuine curiosity giving Bulma revived vigor.

"Yes. Here's what some of them mean..."

~*~

"So, what do you call this again?" Ona asked, unsticking a piece of gum from the bottom of her shoe as they progressed through the parking lot. Bulma let out an exasperated sigh.

"A mall. A SHOPPING mall. You go in, you shop at different stores, you eat, and you leave," she replied, ushering the forest-haired Saiyan through the door, which slid open when they approached.

"Wow.. Such interesting technology. So pointless, when it could be used on so much more valuable ideas and projects," Ona commented, giving the little red eye on the sliding door a cold glare. "What are we here for, again?" Bulma stopped herself from ripping out her hair. She struggled to remember that the Saiyan's overflow of information in the past week was just causing her to be a little lightheaded.

"We're going to look at some reading glasses for you, and get you a makeover!" the blue haired woman cried, pointing towards the off-road from the food court.

"Alright.. But I hope it doesn't take too long. I took a month off of training with the four boys for this stuff," Ona informed her, crossing her arms and walking with her nose in the air. Bulma scoffed.

"I don't think it will take that long. We should be done in a few hours," she said, snorting.

"Well, when I get these 'reading glasses,' will you teach me to read your language completely?" Ona inquired, taking curious peeks into the various brightly-lit shops.

Bulma raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "I guess so. Why are you so interested?"

"I'm not sure. You humans are very intriguing creatures, and I guess.. I guess I just want to know how you came to be as weak and stupid as you are," Ona replied. Bulma blinked at the seriousness in her voice, a statement obviously not thought of as an insult by the Saiyan, but a truth.

"Oh.. well.. I have a lot of history books," the blue haired woman said, a bit flustered. Ona nodded, and they proceeded into a small eyeglass shop.

~*~

"Piccolo?" Ona asked, prodding the Namek. He groaned a bit, opening one eye.

"Damn! What is that?" he asked in annoyance, rubbing his forehead. Ona smirked.

"Bakudan? It's my attack. My mother taught it to me," she replied, twirling a small ball of energy on the tip of her finger.

"I see. Who were your parents, anyhow? I really don't know much about Saiyans, but from my knowledge, there were only four or so left when Vegeta-sei blew up. You don't seem old enough to have been born before then," Piccolo observed, his eyes clenching as he rose to his feet. Ona tilted her head, raising an eyebrow.

"Well.. You probably know my father. From what Bulma tells me, anyway, you killed him."

Piccolo's eyes widened.

"You're joking, right?" he asked, voice a bit shaky. Ona shook her head. "Oh my kami.."

"You're the only other person who knows beside Kakkarot and.. just Kakkarot. Don't tell anyone, please?" the teenager asked, leaning against a tree. Piccolo nodded slowly, still eyeing her.

"Who was your mother, then? I can't really imagine Radditz like that, I guess," he said nervously. Ona scoffed.

"You wouldn't know her anyway. She died when I was young," she replied, but was interrupted by an immense shake of the gravity room. Glancing up, she saw smoke rising from the top.

"Looks like Vegeta's frustrated," Piccolo noted, avoiding eye contact with Ona. She nodded in reply, raising on eyebrow at the still shaking, grounded spaceship.

The Capsule Corp. building sat just past the training yard, the shiny yellowish surface reflecting a bit in the sun. The Saiyan smiled, her eyes feeling shielded from the bright light around her from the small lenses resting on her nose.

"This is an interesting human concept," Ona commented, fingering the frames. Piccolo nodded.

"They have this strange desire to use all their technology to not fix, but make up for their ailments and handicaps. It's pathetic, like they can't accept who they are," the Namek said huskily. Ona sighed.

"I can't really read without them. Not sure why. But anyhow, we should probably get back to working," she suggested. Piccolo replied with a nod, and they dove back into a series of punches, kicks, and energy blasts.

~*~

"She should be here in a few minutes," Krillin noted, tapping his brand new watch proudly. Yamcha and Tien rolled their eyes, but Chaotzu's undying interest getting the better of him as he poked like a small child at the wide, blue watchband.

"HEY GUYS!" The cry echoed through the valley, various flocks of birds taking off into the air with a loud rush of wings. She soared up through the trees, joining the small group high in the air.

"Wow Ona! You look different! What is that you're carrying?" Krillin asked, poking at the duffel bag the forest-haired Saiyan was carrying. She glared at him in consternation, but her gaze was pulled away by the hullos of the other three men, the bag momentarily forgotten.

"Okay, what is it? Your hair?" Tien asked, scratching his chin. Despite the fact they were 1000 feet up above the ground in the coldest region of the north mountains, the triclops insisted on never wearing a shirt.

"No... Bulma just put some goo in it, and it flattened a bit," Ona replied, rolling her eyes.

"I know! It's something about your eyes," Chaotzu put in, spinning in the air where the five were congregated. They hovered above a vast valley, filled with tall, black and green pine trees. The tops were sprinkled with snow, reflecting the immense white mountains all around them. The sky was gray, as always, a factor that gave the area a dark, foggy look.

"...You're close," Ona replied, attempting to keep her cool. She had been putting up with the men for three months before taking a break, only now beginning to miss training with Vegeta. But they had almost adopted her, taking her out to the tavern or buying her dinner. It was something she didn't want to pass up anytime soon.

Yamcha floated up closer examining her face.

"GLASSES!" he shouted suddenly, causing Ona to cover her ears.

"Not so loud! And you're right," she said, rolling her eyes. Sure enough, a pair of small, ironically forest-green wires framed her eyes, the earpieces tucked neatly beneath her smooth, shiny locks of dark hair. A collared tanktop left her midriff bare, a pair of shorts coming up to right below her bellybutton. Her shin and bicep muscles had obviously strengthened in the past month, and her face had cleared of its mild acne. The most intriguing thing to the four men hovering around her was the relaxation of her eyebrows. Her eyes were passive, and she had a small smile on her face.

"What happened to you?" Krillin asked suddenly, poking her face. Furrowing her brow, she shoved him off.

"What do you mean?" Ona countered.

"You just look so different.. in every way," Tien observed.

"I have been gone for a month," she replied, eyeing the two.

"Why are you wearing glasses?" Chaotzu interrupted, approaching and examining the fashionable spectacles.

"Because Bulma figured out I can't read without them, and I thought they looked good on a regular basis," Ona replied, fingering the pretty wire frames, her long lashes barely escaping a brush against the lenses.

"It looks great on you," Yamcha said at last, smiling. Chaotzu, Tien, and Krillin turned to him with raised eyebrows, a small blush creeping onto the teenager's face.

"....Um... thank you.." Ona said sheepishly, much to everyone's surprise.

"What did you do while Tien, Chaotzu, Yamcha and I were on the mountain?" Krillin asked, descending slowly to the ground. The others followed, hovering just above the snowcapped trees.

"I worked with Bulma, and got in a few sparring sessions with Vegeta. He's been even more grumpy lately," she replied, shrugging.

"That's hard to believe," Tien commented, earning a consternated glare from Ona. Krillin grabbed the duffel bag suddenly, earning an annoyed yell from the Saiyan.

"What's in here, Ona?" he asked, shaking the bag. Ona lunged at him, grabbing the canvas object from the monk.

"For your information, it's some stuff that Bulma bought me at the.. "mall"!" Yamcha burst out laughing, and was suddenly kicked in the knees. Avoiding gratifying Ona with a yelp, he zipped his mouth shut.

"Well, enough about that. Let's get going! I want to be ready for those big lumps of machinery!" Krillin said, popping Yamcha upside the head. Growling, the five took off into the high peaks.

~*~

Author's Note: Okay, I know this was a crappy chapter with a lot of breaks, but it's all leading somewhere. I'm just trying to build the pieces. Anyway, I'm leaving tomorrow, and I don't really have time to dedicate this and whatnot.. so just thank you to everyone who's been reviewing! It really helps. :)