This story hit me as I attempted to untangle another one. How we see our animals, and how they see us, tells us a lot about ourselves. Sometimes they totally have the upper hand - cats especially. There is some sexual content in later chapters, so that's my basic warning. Thank you for reading, and leave some reviews if you get the urge. I always appreciate them!

I do not own any part of the Dragon Ball franchise. Akira Toriyama holds that honor. Aren't we lucky?

Like most cats, Tama had a ferocious, endless curiosity about her surroundings. Luckily, the Capsule Corporation compound had countless hiding places as well as outdoor activities that seemed made for her. Yet, on many days, her favorite resting area was atop Dr. Brief's shoulder. They were each other's loyal companions - more so than his wife Panchy and daughter Bulma. She was Tama's second-favorite human to follow around, though. The young scientist's professional demeanor was more like her father's, and she shared his love for animals.

Bulma's temper, however, could be frightful. Her never-ending, occasionally screeching arguments with then-boyfriend Yamcha would drive most people away from the scene, let alone a cat. But Tama was good at comforting her after the uproar. She took pride in her duty, just like when she delivered some unfortunate and clearly dead mouse to "her humans." Being a tuxedo cat, she also was used to people fawning over her. Her shiny, jet-black fur and white paws were attention grabbers, but she didn't entertain everyone touching her without permission. Without reservation, she would scratch the living hell out of those deemed unworthy. It was her world. Everyone else lived in it.

Lately, Bulma and her father had been working furiously in their machine laboratory. Tama's blue-grey eyes darted back-and-forth as the two moved around to bang on their oversized "toys," which she eagerly wanted to explore. She usually took the Briefs' perpetual noise-making in stride, but this time was different. A strange newcomer on the premises - a man - had commanded their attention. His presence was upending her formerly carefree life and deference she normally received. She was displeased.

Tama had never seen anyone like him before, but she instantly sensed his unfriendliness after he arrived. He didn't seem to like anyone, really. Worse, his scent reminded her of an angry dog. Her primary instinct was to avoid him, which she largely did, but like most cats she remained curious. Bulma's scent changed whenever the newcomer was around, too. When Tama saw them together, she would drop and roll on the ground to distract her mistress - or meowed like someone was killing her. One time she peed on the dirt in plain sight. The man always stood still, expressionless and unmoved by her behavior.

Tama had been relaxing outside one day when she saw the man watching from a distance. She soon leapt to her feet and grunted at him for disturbing her rest. He continued staring until she sauntered away, her tail thrashing defiantly. Bulma, who was walking nearby, laughed at them both.

"Why are you annoying my father's cat, Vegeta?"

Vegeta slowly pivoted toward her. He looked much darker from being outside all day. The tan definitely enhanced his striking physical features, she thought, but his attitude and aloofness left much to be desired - a lot of much.

"So that is what you call that vile creature?" he said.

Bulma squinted at him. He had never shown much interest in animals. Her parents had plenty of them, too, but Tama had run of the place. He knew that from the beginning.

"Her name is Tama."

"Did you not just call it cat?"

"Now you're just giving me a hard time," Bulma replied flatly. "Cats are one of the oldest species on Earth. They're also beloved pets."

"Pets?" Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. "Humans are so sentimental - almost to a fault. It's pathetic, really. I recall similar-looking beasts from my childhood. They were skinned and eaten. I remember them being rather delicious."

Bulma's lips twisted in disgust. Sometimes she questioned her sanity for giving this snappish, arrogant little man a place to live, let alone use her high-quality equipment. Her friends certainly had no problem telling her she was crazy to do it - especially because of Vegeta's volatile past - but she had always been adventurous.

"Okay, I'm done here," she said. "My cat better not come up missing, either. There's plenty of food in the house already. Wait. What am I saying? I can't believe we're even having this conversation. Don't eat my fucking cat, Vegeta."

"Hn." Vegeta placed his arms behind his head. "You might actually like how your pet tastes. Now then, are you finished? I was enjoying my solitude."

Bulma heard faint beeping from his direction. She had to return to the lab. He didn't bother to turn around as she jogged past him.

"You are a pompous ass!"

"Yes, I am," Vegeta replied.

Vegeta continued watching Tama from afar when he could. Simpler life forms barely registered in his psyche most of the time, but this animal intrigued him. Perhaps his interest was borne out of aloneness. Being in the presence of others meant little because he would still feel alone. He had always relied on himself. He trained by himself. He had hit rock bottom by himself - severely beaten and bloodied by those who tried their best to crush his pride - yet, somehow, he was still there.

He wondered how this one creature could be affectionate and aloof, dependent and independent. The behavior seemed absurd, he believed. But it was quite obvious to Vegeta that Tama had earned her fighter bona fides long ago. The Briefs probably thought she hadn't won fights when she returned home injured at times. They cooed over her like a child. She allowed them to treat her like that at home, but she was all grown-up when roaming outside.

They both observed each other's impressive capacity for acrobatics. Vegeta committed Tama's spirals, back flips, and twists to memory for training and improvisation. He may have worked out alone, but, as a fighter, he was accustomed to watching others and making their moves work for him.

Sometimes the noise in his head demanded his departure from external stimulation.

His interactions with Bulma - and everyone else - were difficult because his behavior often swung between two extremes: calculating discipline and self-destructive recklessness. The day he almost killed himself training in the gravity machine was an example. Bulma slept next to his bed every night. When he emerged from his brief coma, he wondered why the woman was there. He certainly wasn't inviting her affection. Watching him from her perch, Tama promptly meowed to awaken her mistress.

"You conniving little bitch," he said under his breath. "You just had to do that."

Tama's ears swerved in his direction. Then she meowed louder.