Inspired by Charlotte Brönte's Jane Eyre and written for The Prince and The Heiress literature challenge. My submission is a Cross Epoch DBZ/One piece cross over with additional inspiration from doujinshi by Pachi: The Captain and the Thief, and I'm Fine with You Captain. Future Trunks is not in this.
I'll be trying to incorporate DBZ characters into the expansive world of one piece. Hooray for the creative freedom of A/Us. I haven't seen very many OP eps.; I've mainly been reading the VIZ manga and I'm just now getting to the first arrival on Enis Lobby. I tried to fix as many mistakes as I could catch, but there are probably still some hiding in there. I don't yet have a beta reader. This, unlike most of my past submission, will be a multi-chapter story, so stay tuned for more to come! Please do review if you enjoy this.
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The library sat within the belly of Gero's round ship, far below the bridge at its top, but not nearly as low as the engine room which hummed and rumbled the cold tiled floor on which she sat. In the brightest lit corner an incongruous slip of a girl lay nestled in a cocoon of blanket with a large book open before her. Soft folds of velvety red blanket contrasted against the icy blue-white tile like puddle of congealed blood on a glacier. The pages whispered their dry rasp as she turned them; her movement causing the mass of cloth to move like a heart pulsating to an infrequent beat.
So enveloped in her reading about the merits of pulsed fusion drive versus thermal fission drive she did not hear the whoosh-click of the library door open then close. Nor did she hear the soft tapping of an approaching pair footsteps.
"Hey, Gin, look, I win. I've found Little Blue first," drawled a gangly blond boy, "That means I get half your dinner rations!"
"Ha! Not a chance, play me a hand of cards I can win it back plus your entire portion," replied the shorter purple skinned boy.
Bulma's heart thudded against her chest. She had hoped that she'd at least be able to finish an entire chapter before Gin and Kenworth came looking for her. She sat up, blankets falling to her waist and clutched her book close; it was nearly as big as her torso. Her little blue brows slashed down as she mustered up as much of an angry look as her delicate features would allow.
"What do you two want?" She asked; her eyes flited to library door, behind the duo, mind attempting to work out an escape plan.
Kenworth sneered at her. "Stand up, squirt," he demanded, haughtily.
Bulma shivered involuntarily and her lip trembled despite her glare. She knew what was coming and she could feel her eyes grow hot with held back tears. Gin snickered; his big ugly grin broke only when he took a sip from the flask he kept hidden in his coat pocket. Bulma knew that since Gin was only 15 he wasn't allowed to drink alcohol, but she knew he often swiped it from Gero's liquor cabinet and shared it with Kenworth, who was only 13. Both boys wore the smell of rum like cheap cologne. It was only 1800; normally they didn't start imbibing until Gero retired for the night at around 2100.
Gin stuffed the flask back into his too large yellow coat's pocket. If she weren't at the moment being threatened she'd have a laugh at how comically large the baggy yellow garment looked on such a small boy. Despite having entered teen-hood three years prior he was the runt of the four boys Gero had adopted.
"Yeah, stand up, you snotty little runt." Said Gin, always Kenworth's echoing lackey.
Bulma clutched at the blanket, still holding fast to her book, and pushed off the floor and stood. The blanket was jerked from her grip as her feet pinned it to the floor. She yanked her empty hand close, wrapping it back around the tome, hugging it as if hoping to absorb its indifferent solidity into her own being. Kenworth reeled back and struck her with and open hand, sending her tottering back until she slipped on the blanket and landed hard on her tush. Her face burned and her eyes stung but she held back her tears. They howled shamelessly with laughter when she let loose a choked hiccup that escaped her resolve.
"Little Blue think she some kinda hard bitch taking yo' cuff," said Gin.
"You best wipe that ornery look off yer face girl!" Kenworth warned. "I'm a little disappointed you don't cry out like a struck little piggy anymore. Maybe I should hit you harder."
Bulma swallowed, her eyes growing wide with fear. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she wasn't as strong like the others. Kenworth was only one year older than her, but he was taller by a foot, which put him at 5'10. His black long-sleeved shirt draped across his rangy chest, while his olive green army pants clung to his narrow hips with what seemed to be no more than a prayer. He didn't really hit as hard as he thought he did. Over time Bulma felt she had actually grown used to his strikes. She had less to worry about from Gin. He never bothered her unless he was with Kenworth. The purple boy was no bigger than she was, quite undersized for being a 15 year old.
Kenworth clenched the hand he had hit her with, just a hint of a wince crossing his visage. Bulma tried not flinch when he sneered and made a mock charge to strike again. The boys erupted with laughed when she squeezed her book a little tighter.
Kenworth reached up and removed his ratty Mackenzie Space Freighter hat and ran his fingers through his shoulder length white-blond hair before replacing the cap on his head.
"What's that stupid book yer reading anyway? That looks like too much book for a runt like you." He snatched it from her grasp and tried to read the title, "Comprar- Compu- Conprairi-"
'Don't hurt yourself you idiot,' Bulma thought as she stood up.
"What is that shit?" Gin asked.
"She probably can't even read it, she's only 12. Probably likes to look at the pictures." Kenworth leafed through page after page of engine diagrams.
"It's called Cayley's Comparative Look at Nuclear Drives, Fourth Edition. It's the latest edition by the Shilton publishing company." Bulma said.
Kenworth threw the book at her and she oofed once as it hit her chest and again as she hit the floor. He spat on her.
"Those are the Doc's books. Everything here belongs to the Doc," he said, spreading his arms, motioning to the entire library. "What do you think yer gonna gain trying read highfalutin books like that?" Kenworth sneered at her. "You think the Doc is gonna favor a weakling like you, just cuz you can pretend to be smart and use them big ol' two-dollar words?"
"I'm not pretending!" Bulma yelled, "I really am smarter than you, in fact I'm smarter than all of you. You, Gin, Mojag and Axle combined." She stood up and flung her book aside. Running to him in a fit of rage she threw her hands up in front of her and pushed him. He flew backward, crashing into a shelf. The shelf rattled but held firm due to the fasteners that kept it lashed to the wall; nonetheless books of all sizes rained down on the stunned teen, a few of them thumping him right in the skull. Gin stood dazed, eyes wide, wondering if he should run for it.
Kenworth scrambled to his feet, a rivulet of blood ran down his temple where the corner of a thick hardcover struck him. He reached up and touched it and stared it blankly as he smeared it between his fingertips.
"You little bitch!" He bellowed. He tried to scrabble off the pile of books but slipped as slick hardcovers slid past one another leaving him flat on his ass again. He roared at Bulma, "I'm gonna jerk a knot in yer tail, girlie!" He kicked books this way and that, and then yelled to Gin, who stood gaping stupidly at him, "Damn it, get her you damned stump!"
Gin hesitated but obediently ran for Bulma. Before she could even consider the gravity of her outburst she ran for the door hoping to make back to her own broom closet of a room and block the door before they got a hold of her.
She ducked around a free standing shelf and felt relief when she saw the door fully in her sights, but just as her fingertips brushed the open button she was yanked back and slammed to the floor. Her skull cracked against the tile and she saw stars behind her clenched eyes. This time she did cry out at the sharp pain.
"Hold her down, Gin!" Kenworth ordered.
Gin grabbed her thrashing feet and held them down with all of his weight, but she lashed and kicked and clipped him in the chin until Kenworth struck her cheek with closed fist. Her head whipped to the side from the blow. Kenworth reeled back to strike again and Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, never ceasing her flailing, desperately hoping to fling them off of her long enough to run for cover. The blow never came and a voice boomed overhead.
"What the devil in going on in here?" Dr. Gero grabbed Kenworth by the shirt scruff and yanked him of off Bulma. Gin bolted upright and jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, right one clutching possessively around his flask. He tried to sidle away but Gero wheeled around and smacked him in the back of the head, never losing hold of Kenworth's scruff. Gin recoiled, trying to shield himself with his left hands but he was still pitched back a few steps and he grimaced as the blow smarted.
"Never mind!" Gero hollered, his deep scratchy voice reverberating off the ceiling. "I don't care what was going on down here; just go back to your quarters, the both of you!" He flung Kenworth away toward the open door. Gin scrambled after him. Their footsteps disappeared down the hall as they ran for their barracks.
Gero eyed Bulma on the floor. She sat up, vigorously wiping her wet eyes with the back of her forearm. In the deepest heart of her heart she held on to the hope that the doctor would gather her in a fatherly embrace and coax her with soothing words as he wiped away her tears. But nothing of the like came. When Bulma stood he marched toward the back shelves. Fear glued her feet to the floor, leaving her to stand in silent waiting. When she heard the doctor's disapproving grunt she knew he must have seen the mess of toppled volumes. His shoes clapped on the tile as he returned; now carrying a small stack of books. He stopped at the door, but did not turn to look at Bulma. The absence of his acknowledgment left her feeling small. But still she wished she was smaller yet, so small that she could run away and hide amongst the giant books like a mouse, small enough to go unnoticed, and so quiet that no one would ever know she was there.
Gero spoke, firmly, "I expect you to re-shelve all these books accordingly before you retire to your quarters for the night. Just as those two impudent brats, you shall not have your morning rations."
Whoosh-click, and then she was there alone. The tears came in a deluge as she sunk to the floor, hiccuping with silent sobs.
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It was well past 0 hour when Bulma slipped all but the last book into place. She hugged her copy of Cayley's Comparative Look at Nuclear Drives as she shuffled out of the library and past the elevator foyer, her steps echoing off the cold metallic walls. During the "night-time" hours all light in the ship dimmed to their lowest settings to conserve energy as well as to simulate an Earth night and day cycle. Lending to the creepy atmosphere of the quiet late "night" her shadow slinked along behind her, drawn out like a dark phantom waiting for the right moment to pounce. She wasn't normally afraid of the night; she had spent many of them awake and alone with her own thoughts as she lay in her cot in the dark of the orphanage bunk room. Creaking bed springs, snores and the constant groans and shifting of the old rickety building had dulled her sense of fear for the supernatural. It helped that she had always been a natural born skeptic. There was always a reasonable answer for why things were the way they were.
At this time of the night only the constant hum of the ship kept her company as she trudged back to her room, her eyes still burning with shed tears and now with weariness. She knew there were no ghosts waiting to spring from the shadows to grab her and pull her into oblivion. What she feared was real. She was afraid of Kenworth. The boy hated her from the moment Gero brought her from the orphanage back to his ship the Asimov. By extension she was also a little fearful of Gin. The little liquor thieving runt was Kenworth's toady and would agree to do whatever the taller but younger boy asked him to.
Time and again she found herself wondering: if there was always a reasonable answer for everything, then why did Kenworth always torment her? They had all come from orphanages or off the streets; all of them except for the tall red-head, Axle, that is, who was Gero's son. She didn't have a problem with 16 year old Axle though, nor with 14 year old Mojag, the big wingless Shandian. The one thing all the boys had in common was their strength. Even Gin, would eventually become stronger than Bulma when puberty finally hit him like it did the other boys. That would then leave Bulma to be the black sheep, the one who didn't belong, but was inexplicably there among them.
Shifting her tome and folded blanket in her arms she reached out and pressed the open button to her room, the janitorial closet. Her bed took up most of the floor space of the repurposed closet. Shelves lined the walls from waist high to ceiling except for a vertical cubby for brooms, mop and vacuum wand, just to right of the door. She crawled in to bed, which was no more than a worn futon laid atop empty crates. The door closed behind her, no additional whirrs denoted locks engaging. Janitorial closets didn't need to lock from the inside. She ambled up, standing on the creaky crate-bed to lay her book on the top-most shelf which she reserved for her meager belongings, and then settled in sighing as she wrapped her fuzzy red blanket around her.
Although her thoughts rattled around endlessly, it wasn't long before sleep carried her away to dreams of cake as big as mountains, rivers of tea and cotton candy clouds and of a dark prince whose face she could not see.
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Morning had come too soon she thought as she shivered, reaching for her blanket. The desired object eluded her search and she groaned when she realized she had kicked it into the crevice between the crates and wall. With no breakfast waiting for her she figured she may as well start with the day's chores to keep her occupied until lunch.
The door opened before she could reach the command button.
"Good morning Little Blue," Kenworth taunted.
Wielding an arm-length metal pipe like a hockey goalie, Gin snickered through a toothy leer. Bulma stiffened in fear, but quickly dismissed the notion of them coming to that level of violence. Surely it was only for intimidation. They would be so stupid. Would they?
"Excuse me." Bulma attempted to push pass them only to be pushed back onto her crate-bed.
"If we don't get morning rations then neither do you," Kenworth sneered, not knowing such had already been denied her.
"You can't lock me in her here," said Bulma, defiantly, "the door doesn't lock anyway."
"Just watch me!"
The door shut again and from the outside she could hear the crunch of metal. Bulma scrambled to hit the open button but nothing happened. She pressed it again and a spark bit her fist as she pounded causing her to jerk back. She flew at the door and pummeled it with both fists, shouting at the top of her lungs, "Let me out, let me out, let me out!"
Bulma kicked but made no dent. She grabbed the first weapon handy, a broom, and whacked the door relentlessly until the wood handle snapped. She pivoted to grab another but stopped, thinking that it wouldn't help her situation to break any more cleaning implements. Nothing in the room was strong enough to break down the door, and even if she had a stout enough weapon her own strength was inadequate.
"It's not fair!" She screamed to the surrounding cleaning supplies, her only listeners, for certainly Kenworth and Gin didn't hear her. "It's not fair!" She screamed again and again until her throat felt raw. She curled up piteously on her crate-bed, her cries coming in soft sobs, "It's not fair. Why do I have to be so weak?"
She whimpered until she fell asleep again.
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A bright flash of light blinded her and a pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders shaking her awake. Bleary-eyed she jerked back, but when her eyes adjusted she was greeted by the Doctor's mustached face, rather than a nightmare beast or worse yet, Kenworth.
"What the devil have you gotten yourself into now?" Gero demanded.
Bulma was flooded with all of the pent up indignity that had been building inside her since her first encounters with Kenworth. Tears threatened to spill again from her eyes. She was beginning to feel that soon she might run out of tears to cry. She didn't know where to begin, her eyes burned and her stomach ached from emptiness but most painful of all her heart throbbed with the inability to fully understand the injustice of it all and how she might remedy her situation.
"Speak child," the Doctor ordered as he gave her a shake.
"It was Gin and Kenworth, they did this to me. They locked me in this closet and they hit me last night. They always do! Why? Why do they always torment me? What have I done to them? Why do I have to be so weak?" Bulma cried, her words crashing and flowing like deluge, the dam of her pent up feelings bursting to splinters. Shamelessly she threw her arms around the Doctor and sobbed, but no reassuring hug was returned. No gentle coos to quell her weeping came, just the same as the night before. She pulled away from Gero, her cheeks flush with embarrassment and burning hot with emotion.
Gero's face gave no clues to his thoughts, or weather her emotions moved him in any way.
"I see." He said. He stepped back, eyed the room, noting the broken broom and the reek of urine from the mop bucket. When his flinty stare returned to the small blue-haired child he said, "Your dinner rations are in the galley, you may have them after you have cleaned this room." And then he walked away.
Bulma sat. All of her anger and grief had culminated into a conflagration that pushed her strike out at her tormentor and then seek solace her cold benefactor, only to leave her doused, shamed and none of her questions answered. In fact it left her with new questions. Why was she here? Could her entire purpose be just to endure unearned punishment for the rest of her corporeal life? Was she only an outlet for the strong to take out their frustrations? Was there more to life? In her all of her years at the orphanage she had known nothing but hunger, cold, and harsh discipline. In her few months with Gero things only seemed marginally better until Kenworth made it his purpose in life to provoke her.
Bulma wiped away the tears on her shirtdress sleeve and sniffled. "I promise to become strong. This can't be all there is. I want to live and find my purpose. I will not be weak anymore and I will never cry again!"