Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Turn ❯ Turn ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I'm sure you know what I'm going to say for this. Fill in the blank, man.

 

Author's Note: This is the shortest fic I've ever written, not counting drabbles, which are meant to be short. Written after I received inspiration the night before we left for the shore last summer.

 

 

Turn

 

The narrow gate is shut and we are locked into the compartment. There is no escape. More people are shuttled into cages to our left and to our right. Strangely they, like my fellow prisoners, are completely calm. Some even laugh as we begin to move, up and over in the beginnings of a circular pattern.

 

Bra is one of those giggling. She excitedly clings to the bars and looks down as the ground becomes more distant. Her amusement confuses me. It's almost disturbing, even though she is young. But apparently her enjoyment is normal for a child Earthling. At least according to Bulma. I don't know why I trust her word. I should know her too well for that.

 

Honestly, only humans could come up with the bizarre idea of a… a….

 

“What the hell is this contraption?” I gruffly ask.

 

“A ferris wheel, `Tousan,” Trunks replies from his seat across from me. He is not as happy as Bra, though he does at least show mild interest as he gazes over the landscape. On his side he can see the brightness of the boardwalk with its stores and rides and throngs of people.

 

But Bra, sitting beside me, is looking out the opposite side. She is fascinated with the waves of the ocean as they roll onto the empty beach. Or perhaps she is looking further out at the glow of the moon reflected in the water's moving striations. She looks over at her mother and the flashing lights on the wheel's white beams brightly tint her face as we continue on our circular path.

 

“It's so pretty, Mama,” she says with a smile. She is kneeling on her seat, and sits properly before turning to me. “Isn't this fun, Papa?”

 

Fun? Regardless of how much I know about “fun,” this can't possibly be it. I'm not sure how to answer her, so I don't. We finally reach the bottom again, but to my dismay we pass the loading point. It would seem this tedious so-called entertainment lasts a few more rounds.

 

Bulma notices my disappointment and openly laughs. Trunks smirks. A family of sadists. At least Bra doesn't take pleasure in my suffering. Not yet, anyway. Apparently everything I think or say is funny.

 

I guess I can take consolation in the fact that I don't mind as much anymore. Not as much as I would have when Trunks was his sister's age.

 

Bra yawns, tired from the long day of “fun.” She takes it upon herself to crawl into my lap and rest her head against my chest. She closes her eyes and mutters, “I love you, Papa.”

 

I rest a hand on her back and look out towards the ocean. I'm hoping avoiding the bright light coming from the other direction will hide my blush, but it doesn't really matter. Bulma and Trunks have huge smiles on their faces anyway. I will my face to return to its red-less hue. I am still not used to such public displays of affection. It would seem that Bra has made it her mission to rectify that.

 

And I don't mind as much anymore.