Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What Once Was Lost ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Title: What Once Was Lost

Author: Killarri

Email: killarri@yahoo.com

Rating: R (Will be moving to NC-17 in later chapters)

Warnings: Language, violence, Yamcha bashing, and OOCness. This is an AU, so if you don't like them, then don't read this fic.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. The wonderful anime known as Dragonball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama, TOEI Animation, FUNimation, and a whole bunch of other people, not including me. I will not be making any money from this. So please don't sue….I have no money, I swear it.

Ok, I have to explain a few things real fast. To begin with, I'm an idiot. I completely screwed up the contest deadline (thought it was the fifteenth when it was the twelfth), so I didn't get the epilogue written in time, although it was kind of good in a way because truthfully, I had absolutely no idea for it anyway. I decided about a month ago that I wasn't happy with most of the story I wrote except maybe the last few chapters, but rereading it, I was amazed at how completely the first few chapters sucked. There was a lot of room for improvement, as there always is, so I'm rewriting the whole story. This is not going to be the same as the original-though it still retains the same BASIC plot-and it by no means is the same old story. I'm adding in a lot of ideas that I originally had but for some reason or another decided not to go with. I probably won't concentrate so much on the Yamcha bashing, although I will get a few good hits in.

Basically, I'm going to try to add action in with the romance as well as a villain (who is NOT Yamcha) and hopefully it will turn into an entertaining story. I haven't written action before, so bear with me. The most action I've had thus far is the occasional spar, but I will try to keep my fingers from spewing utter crap. Please keep in mind that I'm still pretty new at writing and there is always room for improvement. I welcome any type of feedback, positive comments, constructive criticism, and even flames.

Ok, enough of this ridiculously long authors note and on to What Once Was Lost v. 1.2.

What Once Was Lost

Chapter One

"Good morning Orange Star High!"

Bulma rolled her eyes as the overly cheerful voice that of the guidance councilor, Mrs. Joyce, floated through the classroom via the intercom system. It was eight in the morning on the first day of school; what the hell was there to be cheerful about? Thank Kami that the hell otherwise known as high school would be over after this last year. One more year, she repeated in her mind over and over again, as if the thought would make it go by faster.

"The staff would like to give a big Orange Star welcome to the sixty-three new students we have in attendance as well as all returning students."

Did they purposely find the most corny, annoying person they could find for the morning announcements? The woman's high pitched excited squealing shot straight through Bulma's ear drums, and she covered her ears in an attempt to stop the ringing reverberating around in her head. I am so going to get a headache from this, she thought angrily. The blue-haired woman could only pray that the shrill Mrs. Joyce would not be doing the morning announcements all year.

"Our fifth annual Club Carnival will be held this Friday afternoon in the cafeteria. So make sure to be there!"

Yippee! Bulma thought sarcastically. How could any one be so excited to attend an event that's only purpose was to get people to sign up for clubs? It wasn't like there was anything exceptional about setting up tables in the cafeteria with various club representatives to recruit new members, primarily freshmen. Why would anyone want to spend one minute longer than necessary in the Kami-forsaken place known as school?

"Tryouts for the varsity and junior varsity football teams will be held after school today. Meet up with Coach Wilson at the track no later than 3:15."

And the jocks shall rule the world, Bulma thought rolling her azure eyes once again. She sighed, slouching in her chair, and her hands tightened on her head in a desperate attempt to drown out the rest of the announcements. It's not like she cared about them anyway.

Though it would seem as if the blue-haired, blue-eyed teenager hated school, she didn't really. She was a genius after all, and any place designed to exercise the mind was alright in her book. Bulma just hated all the people at her school, except two, her only friends.

As with any school, the teenaged populace of Orange Star High was divided into cliques. There were the rich preppy people who couldn't see anything past the designer of one's clothing. Sure, Bulma was one of the richest people in the world, but to the heiress of the massive Capsule Corporation fortune, there was more to life than getting the next Gucci dress. This group also included the ditzy cheerleaders as well as three-quarters of the easy women

Next were the jocks, over-muscled, testosterone-driven idiots whose two primary goals in life were to beat the snot out of the opposing team and have wild parties over the weekend. That usually resulted in dozens of drunk, sweaty, half naked men (not all of whom were good looking) getting into a vicious burping contest. Or arm-pit farting. Another group of people that Bulma tended not to associate with.

Moving on from those who willingly spend extra time in school, the social groups veer off to the other extreme: the slackers/stoners. They hardly ever show up for class, and when they do, the pungent aroma of marijuana permeates the air around them. The eyes are always glazed over and bloodshot, and snack food and drinks for the vending machines are always in hand. When they bother to attend class, they don't do anything, and thus, most of them have repeated grades. This group Bulma could identify with; she shared the same apathetic attitude towards the outside world, but she was never one to slack off when it came to anything, especially school work, and would never use any kind of illegal drug.

And thus, Bulma didn't really fit into any clique. She had only two real friends, 18 and her boyfriend Krillin, and a few acquaintances that she socialized with at school but never saw in the outside world. She told herself that she didn't need them; the less people knew about her the better. The young woman had many secrets, and had gone to extreme lengths to keep them from everyone, even her best friend 18.

By some sort of divine intervention, Mrs. Joyce finally finished reading the announcements and signed off the intercom system. Bulma sighed in relief, now able to remove her hands from her ears. Out of her peripheral vision, she caught a raven-haired woman doing the same, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

She had long since figured out that she wasn't exactly normal. The blue tail that she kept hidden away was a pretty big clue, but there were other areas in which she was different than everyone else. For starters, she had a huge appetite and could plow through an entire buffet line in minutes while most normal people could only eat a couple of servings. She was stronger than the average person and could use ki, something very few even knew about. She healed from injury quickly; once, a broken arm, an ailment that would normally take weeks to heal, mended in just two days. Finally, her senses were amplified. Bulma could hear things that others couldn't, pick up on scents that only a canine could, and her sight was well over a perfect 20/20, day or night. Yup, the famous Bulma Briefs was a freak, a secret she went to drastic lengths to keep from the world.

"Good morning class." Their English teacher, ironically enough, a woman whose first language was not English, Miss Gonzalez began cheerfully, and Bulma fought the urge to groan. Why was everybody so damn happy? Yay! Let's be forced to get up at some ungodly hour to come to an overcrowded popularity contest with some chunks of knowledge shoved down our throats on the side! Briefly, Bulma wondered where she became so cynical, but pushed the thought aside for another time.

"I see a lot of familiar faces," the petite woman who looked to be in her mid thirties began with a smile, "and some new ones. As I call roll, tell everyone a few things about yourself like your favorite TV show, the last book you read, what you do for fun, things like that." She pulled a brown leather binder from her desk and flipped through several pages until stopping on the appropriate one.

Bulma listened half-heartedly to everyone's interests, only really listening for her name, and when it was called, she droned in absolute boredom, "My name is Bulma Briefs. Yes, my family owns Capsule Corporation, and my favorite TV show is The Simpson's."

Miss Gonzalez smiled, "Nice to have you in my class again, Bulma. Chi Chi?"

The raven-haired girl from earlier said quietly, "My name is Chi Chi Mau, and I like martial arts and cooking."

Martial arts and cooking? Bulma smiled, it seemed that she would like Chi Chi Mau. After all, fighting and food, not necessarily in that order, were two of her favorite things; although only a few people, her parents and her trainer Piccolo, knew about her love of combat.

"Alright then," Miss Gonzales began in a cheerful voice as she handed stacks of white paper to the person sitting at the front of every row, "go ahead and pass these back and we'll get started."

The papers made their way to the desk of every student in the room, but Bulma didn't even spare a glance at hers already knowing what it was. It was always the same first day of school rules that every teacher went over with only minor variations in the versions. If you've heard one first day of class speech, you've heard them all. Bulma actually had heard this one before since she'd had Miss Gonzalez for British Literature the previous year. Sinking low in her desk, she sighed in boredom.

And it was only 1st hour.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time the first bell rang, dismissing everyone to their second class of the day, Vegeta had come to one very important conclusion: earth girls were insane. He knew he was good-looking, he was a prince after all, and women had been constantly vying for his eye back on Vegeta-sei, but they were never this giggly. Saiyan women were, for the most part, not very flirtatious, and they tried getting his attention by beating each other up which was fun to watch.

Earth women giggled, and smiled, and batted their eyelashes, resulting in one very uncomfortable Saiyan Prince. He ignored all the stares, and a few whistles, as he moved through the crowded hallways and up to the third floor where his next class was. Vegeta glanced down at the schedule in his hand to find the room number when someone slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground.

Vegeta blinked once and then scowled preparing to give the other person hell, but in that one moment, as wide cerulean eyes stared back at him from a beautiful face framed by aqua curls, his jaw dropped open in shock. In a flash, his mind relived the moment he met a strange blue-haired, blue-eyed saiyan girl named Sorayu in the palace gardens on Vegeta-sei, a girl that became his best friend.

"Watch where you're going!" She yelled getting to her feet. The girl glared at him as she grabbed her black backpack from the floor and exaggeratedly dusted her clothing.

"You're the one that ran into me, woman!" Vegeta yelled back regaining his composure as he too rose from the floor.

"Try looking when you walk and no one will run into you, dumbass!"

"Bitch!"

"Bitch?!" She shrieked. Stomping up to him, she ground her teeth in anger, and poked him in the chest several times, as she yelled, "Asshole!"

"Slut." Vegeta sneered and almost laughed aloud as her entire face turned red and her eyes flashed dangerously. Kami, she looked so much like Sorayu right now, but that was impossible. Sorayu was dead and had been for ten years. After all, Frieza had arranged it himself.

"ARGH! Listen here you walking, talking piece of shit…"

The woman's ranting was cut short as an outraged male voice yelled out, "Miss Briefs!" The older man, obviously a teacher, stomped up to her. "Keep using language like that and I'll write you up!"

"Sorry." She mumbled as he walked away. Glaring at Vegeta who returned the look with a smirk, she stomped over to the nearest classroom, throwing the door open angrily before disappearing into the room.

Vegeta chuckled lightly in amusement at the woman's antics as his eyes finally found the room number to his next class on the white piece of paper in hand. A quick look at the numbers above the room that the blue-haired woman disappeared into proved that it was indeed his next class, and he laughed loudly. It was going to be so much fun tormenting her for an entire year.

Walking into the room, he noticed her with her head down on a desk in the back, and he quickly crossed the room and sat in the seat next to her. She wasn't paying attention to anyone around her, so Vegeta used the time to study her up close. She really was beautiful with creamy skin and a perfect complexion. Standing a couple of inches shorter than him, if he didn't count his hair, she wore a dark blue t-shirt and denim shorts with leather sandals and the muscles that were exposed by the modest outfit were lean and toned, leading him to believe that she was an athlete of some kind.

Vegeta could not believe how much she looked like Sorayu; in fact, all she was missing to look completely like his deceased childhood friend, was a blue tail. He gave a loud sigh as the thought occurred that he might not want to sit next to someone that reminded him of Sorayu. It would be a constant reminder of how much the Saiyan Prince lost at Frieza's hands. In fact, he pretty much lost everything, his planet, his people, and his friend, the girl that would have been his mate, his princess.

He watched, lost in his own thoughts, as students began filling into the room minutes before class started. He didn't pay attention to any of them, but one did catch Vegeta's notice, a dark-haired guy with scars running along his cheek, as he sat in the seat in front of the blue-haired woman turning in his seat to tap her shoulder lightly.

She looked up, frowned, and surprised Vegeta with the low growl that emitted from her throat. "What do you want, Yamcha?" She spat his name out bitterly, and it was very evident to the interested saiyan beside her that she hated the scarred man seated before her.

"What's wrong, Babe?" Yamcha asked innocently.

"Don't call me Babe." She hissed through clenched teeth.

"Bulma…" the scarred human began, "I made a mistake."

So her name's Bulma, Vegeta thought listening in as the woman gave a hard sigh and said, "Look, I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now. If it weren't for school, I could be at home sleeping right now. But no, I can't just test out of high school so I get to wake up at some ungodly hour to get run over by rude, spiky haired midgets in the hall."

At the "spiky haired midget" comment, Vegeta snorted loudly in indignation, drawing her attention. She turned to her right only to be met with a wicked smirk belonging to none other than the aforementioned "spiky haired midget".

She groaned and rolled her eyes in one fluid aggravated motion. "Great." She muttered. "Of course, it wouldn't quite be day from hell status if you weren't here for the party."

"I wouldn't miss this party for the world, woman." He drawled sardonically, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Look troll boy," she snapped, "I have a name and it's Bulma."

Vegeta's smirk widened almost to the point of a real smile; he was rather enjoying riling the woman up. "Whatever you say, woman." He replied smugly, emphasizing the last word just to spark her ire. She let out a frustrated noise, something between a scream and a growl, and Vegeta quirked an eyebrow in reaction finding the sound somewhat arousing.

"UGH! You are impossible!" Bulma huffed loudly as the one-minute warning bell sounded. Giving a slight shake of her head, she turned in her seat to glare at the scarred human who watched the exchange in confusion. "Yamcha," she began wearily, "I said everything I needed to say to you when I caught you cheating on me. It's over. Now, go away." She leaned back in her chair and closing her eyes, extended a hand waving him away in a shooing motion.

"You know," Yamcha began angrily, "you're a real bitch, Bulma."

She smiled. "Thanks. I try."

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation and stomped across the room while Bulma snickered loudly at his retreating back. Vegeta chucked as well, he thought the scarred human had given up way too easily. She stiffened realizing that he was still in the seat next to her, and then turned her icy glare on him. "Why can't you go away too?" She questioned with a tone that would make an icicle seem warm in comparison.

"And give up that easy?" He scoffed, "I'm having way too much fun tormenting you."

She rolled her eyes and turned again in her seat mumbling, "Kami hates me."

Overhearing her quiet comment, Vegeta laughed as the final bell rang. It was certainly going to be an interesting year.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The bell dismissing students from their fifth hour class to lunch rang and Bulma hurried from her Creative Writing class and practically ran down the two flights of stairs to get to the cafeteria. She was starving and even though her meager salad wouldn't fill her stomach in the end anyway, it would still help, a little. She was the first to arrive at the small table where she normally sat with Krillin and 18 so she sat and within two minutes, the salad was gone though her stomach was still grumbling loudly.

The blue-haired woman was contemplating a quick run to the vending machines, also known as Vendo Land, when 18 and Krillin arrived, red plastic trays in hand, with three people following behind them. One was a tall boy with spiky black hair that stuck out wildly in all directions that Bulma hadn't seen before; next to him was the raven-haired girl, Chi Chi from her first hour class, and Bulma frowned noticing the last person, none other than the prick that sat next to her in second hour.

"Hey Bulma!" 18 greeted as she sat her food down on the table. "This is Kakarott, Krillin's cousin," she began indicating the tall one who gave a small nod and a wide grin, "this is his girlfriend, Chi Chi," pointing to the raven-haired girl who also gave a smile, "and this is Vegeta." She finished waving towards the shorter guy who didn't even acknowledge the introduction and instead began plowing into the massive amount of food on his tray.

Bulma rolled her eyes and deciding to ignore the spiky-haired asshole turned and smiled at the other two. "I never knew Baldy had a cousin," she remarked with awe, though that was due to the humongous amount of food that Kakarott wolfed down within seconds. He eats like I do, she thought watching as plateful after plateful disappeared in a flash. The school cafeteria food actually looked appetizing and her mouth watered, she was still famished after all. "I'm going to go to Vendo Land." Bulma announced standing. 18 nodded distractedly still watching the spectacle of Kakarott eating, while the others just continued eating.

The blue-haired woman walked quickly through the loud cafeteria and through down a back hallway to the alcove filled with nothing but vending machines. There were five different machines vending pop, while three others served junk foods and another held ice cream. Desperate for caffeine as well as a junk food fix, Bulma strode to the first pop-vending machine and pulled a crumpled dollar bill from her pocket. The machine didn't take it the first time, so she smoothed the wrinkles in the paper and tried again. It still wouldn't take it. Sighing loudly, she was just about to give up when a voice over her shoulder caught her attention.

"Here," Yamcha began with a smile, holding a crisp one dollar bill in the air, "I'll trade you."

Bulma handed him her dollar and after receiving the new one, jammed it into the machine and lightly punched the button selecting her soft drink, an orange cola. "I guess even you can be useful sometimes." She drawled sardonically before taking a long, satisfying drink of her soda.

Either he missed the tone of her statement, or just ignored it, smiling even wider. "You see, Babe," he started confidently, throwing an arm around her shoulders, "we have chemistry together. Please, give us another chance."

She shrugged the arm off roughly, fighting off his charms. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed him. He was handsome and charismatic, and though she didn't love him anymore, there would always be a small place in her heart for her first love. However, she would never forget the pain he'd caused by cheating on her. He broke her heart, and Bulma was not going to let it happen again.

"What about Savannah?" Came the snide inquiry.

Yamcha frowned, visibly confused. "Who?"

Why am I not surprised? Bulma asked herself in amusement. It was only typical that Yamcha wouldn't remember who he cheated on her with. Her head reared back and she laughed loudly, drawing the attention of a few students entering the area. When her mirth finally subsided, she decided to clue the still clueless Yamcha in. "The bitch you cheated on me with." She informed him emotionlessly.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, finally remembering whom Bulma was referring to, and at her glare, his gaze dropped to the floor. "We didn't work out." He mumbled uncomfortably, pushing imaginary dirt on the floor around with his black tennis shoe.

"Whatever." Bulma replied flatly moving to the food vending machines. Her stomach was rumbling loudly and food was top priority to the hungry woman at the moment. Plunking the change into the machine, she smiled when the bag of crunchy Cheetos© didn't get stuck in wire track.

"Look Yamcha," she started hurriedly, "it doesn't matter whether or not you're still with her. I don't want you. Please leave me alone."

Not even giving him the time to form a reply, she headed back to the cafeteria and sinking into her seat, gave a hard sigh. Maybe now he would finally get the hint. He was everywhere she turned lately, and she had a feeling that it would take a severe butt-kicking to finally get Yamcha to go away. Well, I'm more than up for that challenge, Bulma thought as an evil smirk crept on to her face unnoticed, at least by her.

18 eyed her friend warily, unsure as to what ideas were floating around in her deranged mind. "What's up?" She questioned, one eyebrow raised for emphasis.

"Nothing much." Bulma replied with a shrug, though the smirk remained, "I'm just thinking of all the ways I could get Yamcha to leave me alone."

"He still bugging you?"

"Unfortunately."

"Man, sucks to be you." 18 replied in a sing-song voice.

Bulma plastered a sarcastic smile on her face, "Thanks, 18."

"No problem, just doing my job." She returned the smile with one of her own, leaning back in the chair. "You know, Bulma, volleyball tryouts are today."

"No."

"Come on." 18 pleaded. "Please, for me."

Bulma sighed. "I can't."

18 made full use of all the weapons in her arsenal, puppy dog eyes and the lower lip extended in a pout, all to get her best friend to finally cave. "Why can't you?"

"My dad's having me sit in on a lot of meetings now. He wants to retire and hand the company to me when I get out of college, so I'm learning the ropes."

"But your parents would be ecstatic if you decided to participate in a sport. I'm sure they'd let you have time off for it."

Bulma simply shook her head. Sure, her parents would love it if she got involved in school for once, but she didn't want to. She had absolutely no school spirit and no desire to spend any longer there than she was forced to. Besides, her irritable green mentor would be pissed if she didn't make it for their bi-weekly training sessions. "I hate school. The only thing that makes it cool is hanging out with you guys, but beyond that, this place sucks ass. Why would I want to willingly spend more time here than is necessary?"

"That is such a pessimistic view, Bulma." 18 chided gently, but gave up in her attempts to persuade the apathetic teenager otherwise. Turning to Chi Chi, she smiled and asked hopefully, "You'll try out with me, won't you?"

Chi Chi blinked, twice, then gulped and said quietly, "Um, ok."

"Great! Meet me in front of the gym after school."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and the cafeteria got even louder. Bulma fought the urge to cover her ears in reaction to the noise as she walked to the garbage cans to dispose of her trash. After waving to 18 and Krillin as well as her new friends Chi Chi and Kakarott and being pointedly ignored by Vegeta, she shoved her way through the halls on the first floor to get to her locker. She put away her newly acquired Physics textbook and slammed the small, orange painted door shut before running up the three flights of steps to the top floor of the school. This next class was French, one that she would probably like, so with a smile she entered the classroom, two minutes early.

One half of the day was down, and only one more to go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Vegeta decided that he had the worst luck.

Of course the amusing blue-haired woman from his Algebra 2 class, the one that reminded him so much of Sorayu, was friends with Baldy and his woman. Not only would he have to see her in class, he would see her at lunch and probably outside of school also. As much fun as it was to get her riled up, it was too painful to be around her.

Being near Bulma brought all of it back, the memories and feelings that he'd tried to shove out of his mind for the last decade. Sorayu had been his best friend….hell, his only friend. She understood him, respected him, and cared for him, not just because he was the Prince of all Saiyans, but because of who he was. She was the only person he'd ever trusted enough to confide in, the only person who truly believed in him. And now, after meeting the look alike Bulma Briefs, Vegeta had to admit to himself just how much he missed Sorayu.

Sorayu was unique, the only blue-haired, -eyed, and -tailed saiyan ever born on Vegeta-sei, but beyond that, she had a bright, cheerful, and forgiving nature that he'd always been drawn to. She was the daughter of the planet's top scientist and an elite soldier, and Sorayu possessed the best traits of both of her parents, genius and physical power. She never hesitated to tell him when he'd done something stupid, and when he achieved something he'd been striving for, she was always the first one to offer heartfelt congratulations. And if Frieza hadn't murdered her, then she would've been his life mate.

But she's gone, he mentally sighed as the bell signaling the beginning of 6th hour rang.

Scowling now, Vegeta once again located the piece of paper with his schedule on it and located his next class on the list, French in room 324. About two minutes after the bell had rung, he strolled into his classroom and immediately took the first open seat, in the second row from the front.

The instructor, Mr. Swanson, a balding, middle aged man with large, round glasses and a big nose, was calling roll as the last minute straggler walked in, and he frowned but didn't comment, and instead called out the next name, "Krista Allen?"

"Here."

"Bulma Briefs?"

"Here." Was the clearly bored reply from the back of the classroom.

This is just perfect, he growled mentally. Of course the one person he'd rather avoid like the plague happened to be in another one of his classes. Was it his punishment for not stopping Sorayu's death? He should've seen it; no eight year old child was sent on their first purge, elite or no. It had looked suspicious to him at the time, and he confronted his father about it. He bought the excuse that she was being sent to prove her worth as a possible mate, an excuse that was flimsy at best in hindsight. His father shared the same view about Sorayu that most others did, she was a freak not worth the air she breathed, and he never would have agreed to their joining.

Vegeta was torn from his thoughts when the teacher called his name rather loudly, and apparently not for the first time. His head snapped to the front of the room where the man was glaring at him. "I assume you're Mr. Ouji."

He fought the urge to roll his eyes-why in the hell did he let Kakarott talk him into this, anyway?-and instead muttered an annoyed yes. The older man nodded, and proceeded to the next name while Vegeta went back to ignoring him.

Why am I even here? He asked himself, sighing. He had been educated by the brightest minds on Vegeta-sei; he didn't need to attend some stupid earth school. He could be training right now damnit! Instead he was stuck in a room full of less-than-bright Earthlings, one of whom bore a haunting resemblance to his deceased best-friend, learning things that he either already knew or didn't give two shits about.

Boredom.

That's all it came down to. He really didn't have anything better to do. He couldn't stand inactivity, and even from a young age, he was constantly busy, with his duties as Crown Prince of Vegeta-sei, studies, and training. Any free time he had after that was spent, in the beginning with Sorayu, and later with Kakarott, his only other friend.

A neatly typed piece of paper landed on his desk and caught his attention. Since he'd been ignoring Mr. Swanson's monotone droning he didn't know what it was and had to scan through it real fast. It was another one of those get to know your classmates activities, the third one so far for the day. And this one wasn't all that different than the others, a list of statements such as "Owns a red car" or "Has been on a cruise" and beside each was a line for a signature. The idea was to go around the room getting people to sign next to one that applied to them and since each person could only sign it twice, in order to fill out the whole sheet you had to talk to every person in the class.

"Everyone understand?" Mr. Swanson asked when all the papers were handed out. Receiving no response, he nodded and said, "Go ahead and get started."

Vegeta rolled his eyes and refused to move from his seat while the other twenty-something students in the room hopped out of their chairs and rushed to complete the activity. He signed next to the one statement he could-has been to a movie recently-when anyone came up to him, but other than that, he sat, bored but unwilling to participate, while everyone else around him chatted excitedly.

Ten minutes later, most were done and returned to their seats, and Vegeta watched in amusement as the blue-haired woman stood at the front of the room, looked at him and then down to her paper. She repeated this process several times, apparently debating on whether or not the desire to complete the assignment was worth talking to him. Her pride won out in the end, however, and she glared at him, saying nothing as she passed to take her seat.

At least she's interesting, he thought chuckling lightly.

"All right, then," Mr. Swanson began, leaning on the front end of his desk, "I'm going to read off a statement and I want all everyone who signed by it to stand. Owns a red car?"

Vegeta watched, really only half interested, and really only paying attention to the woman's answers. He didn't know why. He couldn't care less about her or any other Earthling, at least that's what he tried to tell himself. She stood for a lot of the statements, including the one about the red car, and surprised him when she stood for "Is adopted".

That alone caused a thought to emerge in the back of his mind, Could she possibly be Sorayu? It was possible, he supposed, but not probable. Frieza had arranged for her death himself, and when he wanted someone dead very little stood in his way. More than likely, Bulma Briefs was just a look-a-like, a human woman that happened to closely resemble the long-dead saiyan. At any rate, the Saiyan Prince vowed to distance himself from the imposter.

Vegeta had long since stopped paying attention to the class, and when the next piece of white paper landed on his desk, he fought back a groan. Why couldn't they just have one set of rules for every class? It would make things a lot easier, since most teachers had the same rules anyway, and they wouldn't be forced to listen to the same speech over and over again. But then again, common sense was one trait that wasn't commonplace for the human race, as he had already noticed.

Sighing heavily, his obsidian glare focused on the clock on the wall. Only two more classes to go.

AN: I was going to go through the whole day, but this chapter is already 13 pages long, so we'll just skip it and assume that nothing interesting happens for the rest of the day. Anywho, what do you guys think? Do your thing and review and I'll do my thing and get working on the next chapter.

Another side note, I am desperately seeking a beta reader. If anyone wants to beta the rewrite of WOWL for me as well as my other new story "Silent Vow" let me know in a review or e-mail me at ladykillarri@yahoo.com.