by A. Mikato
Part One: Sweet and Bitter Memories
She yawned as she smoothened out the wrinkles in her dress. It was of a rustic crimson color, much the same as the color the leaves were turning outside the window. She looked outside, the last remnants of the day setting behind the evergreen hills of the valley. Again she yawned, wishing she hadn't stayed up so late last night. She was busy preparing last-minute adjustments to the new invention she just came up with. It was to be displayed at the Herra Museum that night to the executive director of Capsule Corp. For the past few years, she had been impressing them with her devices, the next one always more innovative than the last. At last she had gained enough respect from Capsule that they were willing to patent this next new machine, along with the ones that would come along.
She walked over to her kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. She hoped her lack of sleep wasn't too obvious on her face. A lady had to look beyond splendid in an event such as this. In a world of man, she'd finally manage to win herself a position of high status. And not only that, but she was also proud of the fact that she succeeded this position on her own merits. There were countless times her superiors made it obvious that higher positions would come her way if certain situations arose... Of course she had always been a woman of great self-respect, and could never see herself giving in to the lowest possibility one could conceive. Needless to say most of these encounters with her superiors resulted with her telling them exactly what she thought of their little "proposition," her choice of words a combination of intellect and insults, and always her trademark wit.
She smiled at the memory while gulping her coffee down. She had gone a long way these past couple of years. She was now twenty-six. Young in terms of years lived, but her eyes told stories of many lifetimes. She was an old soul, one could say. She went through more in the twenty-six years of life she led than most people do in a lifetime.
She finished her coffee and made her way to her room. She glanced at the clock and found that she was running late. Hurriedly she slipped her shoes on and brushed through her long, aqua-marine hair. She actually took the time to fix it that night, usually it was straight down or tied back. Tonight, it was loose, thick and elegant with curls cascading over her shoulders. It was something worth celebrating, she thought, as she hastily put a pair of earrings on each ear. It's not everyday you get to dress up like a princess.
She took one last look in the mirror while putting her coat on. Satisfied, she placed her new invention in a silver briefcase, grabbed her purse and keys, and walked out of the door.
***
The drive to the museum would take at least half an hour. On the way there, she listened to the radio, once in a while divulging herself in her own thoughts. Thoughts about the speech she'd have to say that night, thoughts about how she looked, if her make-up was on right. She thought about her friends, about seeing all of them after a while. It was so long since she saw them last. She spent most of her time working on her project that she hardly had time to visit. She missed them, really. All of them. Chi Chi, Goku, Krilin, Piccolo. Yeah, and even Roshi. She had wanted to tell Vegeta about it, just because she was always used to concerning him with everyone else. But she didn't get around to it since, what would the Prince of Saiyans want to do with a petty thing like tonight? It was too bad, too. She hadn't seen him in over a year and she had to admit, there were times when his arrogance was missed.
Then there were times when she thought about Yamcha, but instantly stopped herself, knowing thinking about it wouldn't make it any better. It's not your fault, she told herself. It had been nearly six months since she last spoke to him. The two were engaged, ready to be married in a couple of weeks. But as the day of the wedding came closer, she started re-thinking her decision. Was Yamcha really the one? Did she love him as much as she told herself she did?
Then one day, it just came to her. She realized that the only reason she was with him was because she didn't want to be alone. She couldn't really remember how it came to her, but the fact was, that it did. She loved him, yes, but it wasn't the kind of love she envisioned herself to be in. Yamcha was a good man. He was kind, loving, and stable. But stability wasn't what she yearned for. She yearned for adventure, for a challenge. The very things that were in her own blood. She knew the man she'd fall in love with would have a soul that matched hers, a soul that would tame her.
So she told him. Everything in her heart, she told him. And when she said she couldn't be with him, he knew it had to be so. Because even when they were together, he could feel it. He knew she didn't, couldn't belong to him, and eventually one day he'd have to set her free.
Bulma sighed as she turned the volume on the radio up, trying to divert her thoughts from the latter. She hated admitting how lonely she was sometimes. She lived so far away from her friends, and the one man she thought she loved was just that: a thought. There were seldom any times where she allowed herself to feel vulnerable, and when she did, it was always cut short. She was a woman of unlimited internal strength, and petty feelings like that shouldn't be something to lose sleep over. After a while, she reached Herra Museum and pulled up to the parkway. As she retrieved the silver briefcase from the backseat of her car, she went over her speech in her head, wanting to make a flawless performance that night. She climbed up the row of stairs up to the museum entrance, and made her way inside.
"Damn," she cursed under her breath as she went back the way she came, cursing all the way to the car. She never knew why, but for some reason she always managed to forget to lock her door. She wrapped her coat around her tighter, the wind was getting colder now. Before she walked in, she looked up at the sky for a moment, before finally going inside.
The sun was completely gone now, the stars ready for their appearance.