A/N: As stated in the summary, this was done for the Disney fic challenge on the B/V Google+ community, "We're Just Saiyan" (feel free to join us! There's a link on my profile-we'd love to have you!). I intended it to be a oneshot, but it got out of hand, so as a result, it's a bit lengthy. Still, some things are still probably pretty rushed, and in truth, I just wasn't sure how to fix them. Oh well. I gave it my best attempt.
Also, Vegeta's phrases are technically in "Albanian" (I was too lazy to make words up, and the phrasing looked cool); I use that term loosely since it's whatever Google Translate gave me. It's not necessary to know what the phrases say, but if you're that curious... you should be able to pop them in to get what he said.
I welcome your criticisms! Let me know what you think! :)
After much deliberation from the council, the verdict regarding Assassin 626 was brought before Lord Frieza for his consideration.
"L-Lord Frieza," the small, purple reptilian alien squeaked, "we have deemed that because of Assassin 626's display of insolence, compounded with his uncontrollable Oozaru transformation, he is unfit to live on Planet 846 to continue his training as a soldier in your army. We request that you consider his exile."
"Oh my, we're not afraid of a little monkey, now, are we?" Frieza asked softly. He smirked as he watched the weaker alien scramble for a response.
"N-not at all, my Lord," he stammered. "I-it's just that, well, with how… pliable you like your subjects to be, we f-find that he will only c-cause you problems. Besides his Oozaru f-form, w-we also learned of the legend of the S-Super Saiyan from Vegetasei. The y-young boy has never stopped speaking about it, and his q-quest to attain that power for himself."
Frieza's eyes narrowed. Of course, he had heard of the legend; it had been passed down in his family for generations. But was there any truth to it? The tyrant decided he would rather not take the chance.
"Take him into the holding chambers and have him bound. I will be there momentarily to dispose of him myself," he said.
"As you wish, my Lord," the council member bowed, shuffling away quickly to do as he was told.
Assassin 626 struggled uncomfortably against his bindings, frowning as the DNA tracking devices stared him down. They weren't really painful; it was just the fact that he couldn't move. He always felt like he had to be doing something, whether it was hitting something, blowing something up, or just participating in some good old-fashioned destruction—and when he couldn't do that, he became antsy. He stared back at the trackers, trying to decide on his next move. The bindings were weak enough to bust free from, but with those things watching, there was no way he was getting far in that plan. Finally, a thought occurred to him, and he smirked.
While they sat watching intently, Assassin 626 slowly gathered a substantial supply of saliva in his mouth. Then, when he was sure he had enough, he spit the bodily fluid as far as he could, causing a diversion with the trackers as they followed his DNA across the room. Immediately, they opened fire, and amongst the mayhem, the young Saiyan struggled free. Alarms buzzed loudly overhead as a voice announced over the PA system: "Red alert! Assassin 626 is escaping! Red alert!"
Assassin 626 jumped into the freshly-made hole in the ship the trackers had created, and he hijacked the nearest pod before studying its coordinates. Ee-arth? he wondered. He'd never heard of it before. However, the guards were hot on his heels, so he had no time to question it. He jumped in the pod and sealed the door shut, thrusting the gears into full speed toward his destination.
The alien recovery ships, despite the artillery on board, were just no match for the pod's speed; within moments, Assassin 626 and his pod were little more than a blip on the ship's radar.
Bulma skidded across the dirt road as she abruptly changed her direction; panting, she took off towards the recital studio. She was late for practice again, and the teacher would no doubt be angry that she wasn't there. But she had to feed Pudge, didn't she?
She quickly and quietly opened the back door, and as she watched her classmates twirl across the floor, she tried to slide into formation as inconspicuously as she could; hopefully, her teacher wouldn't notice. Bulma picked up the beat pretty quickly; if there was one thing she was good at besides being smart, it was dancing. She pirouetted with her classmates in what her teacher called "perfect synchronicity;" unfortunately, the young girl realized too late that she had mud on her shoe and slipped, tripping the girl in front of her with her foot.
"Ow!" the girl, Kimiko, screamed. "You freak! Can't you watch where you're going?"
By that point, the distraction had caused the rest of the dancers to stop, and their instructor had hurried over. "What happened? Oh no. Bulma, why are your shoes all muddy? And why are you so late?"
"Because, it's sandwich day," she said matter-of-factly. When her teacher gave her a blank look, Bulma sighed before continuing. "Every Thursday, I take Pudge the Fish a peanut butter sandwich. But today, we were out of peanut butter. So I asked Hira what I should feed him instead. You know what she said? She said a tuna sandwich!I can't give Pudge tuna! Do you know what tuna is?"
"Fish…?" her teacher added questioningly.
"It's FISH! If I gave Pudge tuna, I'd be an abomination! I'm late because I had to go to the store, buy more peanut butter, so I could give Pudge the sandwich he was waiting for, because ALL WE HAVE IS STINKING TUNA!"
"Bulma, please, please! Calm down! Why is this so important to you?"
Bulma stopped and stared at her teacher for a moment. "Pudge controls the weather," she said simply.
Kimiko burst out laughing. "Wow, you really are a freak," she said, giggling. "You're crazy."
Bulma was already irate by that point, and when she heard Kimiko's words, she saw red. The blue-haired girl snapped, turning on Kimiko and tackling her to the ground. Kimiko cried out as she fell, and Bulma grabbed hold of her victim's arm, burying her teeth into her skin. Kimiko screamed, but Bulma didn't care. She punched the mean girl hard in the face before her teacher scooped her up by her waist from behind. By this point, the other girls in the class were screaming, too.
"Alright, alright! Everybody CALM DOWN! Girls… why don't you go change, and I'll call your parents to tell them class has ended early, okay?" the teacher said.
"No, wait! I'll be good, I promise! Don't end class. I want to dance. I promise I'll be good. Promise!" Bulma cried frantically, tugging on her teacher's shirt hem.
The teacher sighed, placing her hand on Bulma's shoulder. "I'm sorry, honey," she said. "Here. Why don't we go call your nanny, and you can wait outside and cool off until she gets here?"
Bulma's shoulders slumped in defeat. There was no arguing with her tone—it was the sympathetic tone she always got, but one that clearly said her teacher wasn't changing her mind. Slowly, she walked outside and plopped down on the steps. A few moments later, the teacher came outside and crouched down next to her on the porch.
"Bulma, I called Hira. She said to wait for her right here—she'd be here soon. I'm sorry about class today. We can try again next week." When the teacher received nothing but a dejected look, she gave Bulma a sympathetic half-smile before turning to walk back inside. The girls were running outside by now, each with their new dolls in hand to play with while they waited on their mothers. Slowly, Bulma got to her feet and followed them, digging around in her backpack for her own doll.
"She's such a weirdo," Kimiko was saying to the others, combing her doll's hair. "She bit me! Do you think it looks infected?"
Bulma heard the girls saying things about her, but she ignored them. Maybe they'd stop if they knew she was sorry, and what better way to say sorry than attempt to play with them? "Are you guys gonna play dolls?" Bulma asked, coming up behind them.
Kimiko sneered at her. "You can't play with us. You don't even have a doll."
Bulma pulled her own doll out from behind her back. "This is Maya. I made her myself." She brandished the toy at the other girls. It had tiny metal arms and legs, an oversized head with large button-like eyes, and a battery pack that she had installed herself. "Her head's kinda big, so I just pretend that she was born with a really big head for a really big brain, because she's really smart like me, and…"
By this point, the girls had run off to play elsewhere until their parents came, leaving Bulma alone by herself. Her feelings now really hurt, Bulma threw Maya to the dirt and ran up the road. A few moments later, she ran back, scooping Maya up and cradling her as tears ran down her face, before continuing on home.
Later that night, Bulma lay in bed silently, cradling Maya beside her. More than anything, she just wanted a friend. She needed someone to talk to. Hira was mad at her—they had gotten into a fight as soon as she got home because Bulma hadn't waited for her at the school like she said. Bulma huffed and crossed her arms. What did she care? It wasn't as if she were 'ohana. Why would it matter if she were hurt or not?
As if she could sense Bulma thinking about her, Hira knocked quietly on the door. "Bulma, can I come in, please?" she asked quietly.
Bulma said nothing. When she didn't tell her outright to go away, Hira opened the door and stepped into the young girl's room. Bulma made it a point not to even look in her direction, instead picking at one of Maya's button-eyes as she looked down at the doll. Hira walked over to the little girl's bed and knelt down beside her.
Hira sighed. "Bulma, I'm very sorry I yelled at you earlier. I was just very worried about you, you know? What if something happened to you?" She used her fingers to gently brush Bulma's hair out of her face.
Bulma repeated aloud what had earlier been running through her mind. "Why do you care if I get hurt or not? We aren't 'ohana." She crossed her arms and shifted away from Hira.
A hurt look passed over Hira's features. "Bulma, why would you say that? Of course I care about you. You're almost like a daughter to me—of course we are 'ohana," she said quietly. The nanny then slowly stood up and crawled into the bed with Bulma, cuddling her and wrapping her arms around her from behind. She could feel Bulma sobbing quietly.
"I just wish my mommy and daddy were here. I wish I had a friend," she cried softly.
Hira fought back her own tears that were forming out of sympathy for the girl's anguish. "I know, baby, I know. I wish I could bring them back for you. And I know I can't ever replace your mommy or daddy, but I'm still here for you, okay? You're still 'ohana to me." She kissed Bulma on the back of the head and squeezed the little girl in her embrace. "How about we say our prayers, huh? Maybe someone can send you better friends than those awful girls you've got in class." Bulma turned around in Hira's embrace and saw she was smiling.
Both girls got up from the bed, and Hira sat down next to Bulma as she bowed her head. "It's me again," she began. "I need someone to be my friend. Someone who won't run away… maybe send me an angel! The nicest angel you have."
The streak of light lit up the entire sky for a brief moment before it fizzled into nothingness. There was a loud crash as the pod plummeted into the earth, sending dirt flying everywhere in massive waves. Slowly, the pod door slid open, and the young boy crawled out, panting. First, a gloved hand was visible as it clamped onto the dirt; then, slowly, the pitch black, spiky hair followed as he raised himself on top of the mound. He stood up straight, and, looking around while he dusted off his dirty hands, smirked maliciously. Oh yes. This planet would do very nicely until he could find something better.
Assassin 626 set off, looking for the first inhabitants he could destroy. He walked in silence, listening to the crunch the impact of his footfalls made in the dirt. As he kept going, however, he had the strong sense that someone or something was watching him. He scowled, trying to ignore it. When he noticed a slight rustling in the shrub to his left, he stopped cold. The boy sneered and, slowly, he raised a hand harnessing a pulsating orb of deadly energy in the direction of the movement. He held it, waiting for the thing to reveal itself. Let someone try to kill him. He was the Prince of all Saiyans! The only one left of his kind. He would die before running anymore.
The rustling became more audible, the limbs of the shrub trembling as whatever it was within prepared to strike. Assassin 626 steadied his hand, waiting with baited breath.
Suddenly, the creature leapt from the bushes, and Assassin 626 rolled his eyes. It was just some miniscule Ee-arthling amphibian; nothing more. The young boy huffed in disgust and walked away. If this was all the living creatures that were on this stupid planet, then his being stuck there meant his day couldn't get any worse.
He thought wrong.
As if Kami himself were laughing at him, the sky erupted in a torrential downpour. The boy cast his eyes skyward and scowled; he hated rain. After Lord Frieza had once decided it would be fun to punish him by holding his head under water until he passed out, Assassin 626 hated anything to do with immersing himself in the substance. He bathed and drank it only because he had to; otherwise, he avoided it completely. The Saiyan set off up the stone path, thoroughly disgusted and now shivering slightly from the loss of body heat. He wasn't even paying attention as two orbs of yellow light flashed in his direction.
There was a loud squealing of tires and screaming from within as the vehicle attempted to stop, and a horrendous crunch as the metal connected with the right side of the boy's body. The harshness of the impact sent him flying a few feet, and he landed in the grass by the side of the road. He hit his head when he landed, and he moaned feebly, unmoving except to rub his head gingerly. He heard the quick falls of footsteps as someone ran in his direction, and he curled his tail around him instinctively, hiding it just under his armor.
"Oh my god, I probably killed him. Oh my god, oh my god…" Hira was mumbling to herself. "Bulma, what did I tell you to do?! I said to stay in the car!"
"But I want to see if he's okay!" the little girl yelled, running over to the boy. She made it there just before Hira did, and pulled his head into her lap. Assassin 626 scowled.
"He's alive!" she yelled as her nanny rushed over. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked, looking down at him and offering a smile.
Assassin 626 threw her hands off him and stood up. He gingerly placed his weight on his right foot, wincing as he did. The boy attempted to limp away slowly when Bulma grabbed his arm and stopped him.
"Hey, wait! You're hurt! Let my nanny look at you; she used to be a nurse!" The little girl pulled him back into a sitting position, which he begrudgingly allowed for the time being. Who were these Ee-arthlings? They appeared to be Saiyan, just like him, but they were female. And they didn't have tails. Either of them. Assassin 626 unconsciously curled his own tail tighter around his torso.
Hira pulled him gently closer to examine him. "Wow. I can't believe you aren't really hurt… It just looks like some bumps and bruises… maybe a hurt foot… but there's just no way…" she mumbled under her breath.
Bulma inched closer to the little boy and stuck her hand out. "My name's Bulma," she said with a smile. "What's yours?" Assassin 626 sneered at her and looked away, instead choosing to focus with slight interest on the wound Hira was tending.
"Does that hurt?" the nanny asked. The boy simply stared at her, unmoving. After a few moments, she prompted him. "Yes? No?" Again, he said nothing. Realization finally dawned on her. "…Do you speak English, hun?" For emphasis, she pointed to her mouth and ears. Guessing at what she was asking him, Assassin 626 shook his head.
This only made Bulma all the more interested. "Where are you from? What's your name?" she asked eagerly, getting in his face. The Saiyan pushed her away in disgust, but Bulma was undeterred. She placed her hand firmly to her chest. "Bulma," she repeated. Then, she jabbed a finger to his chest with a questioning look.
Assassin 626 shifted away uncomfortably at her proximity. It had been so long since he had used his real name, not the one he was given on base. "V…Vegeta," he stammered.
"Vegeta… That's a cool name! Hi, Vegeta!" she said, waving.
Vegeta imitated her awkwardly, curling and uncurling his fingers. "Hiiiii…" he enunciated. Bulma giggled.
Hira finished inspecting the last of the wounds and stood up. "Well, Vegeta, you're very lucky. I can't believe you aren't more hurt than what you are. It must be some kind of miracle…" she trailed off, looking back at her car. The right side had a headlight out and was crushed where it had connected with his body.
"Where do you live?" Bulma pried.
"Bulma, he doesn't understand you, honey," Hira reminded her gently.
"Well how's he gonna learn if we don't teach him?" she said huffily. She pointed to him again and gestured a "where" signal with her hands and shoulders, looking around.
Vegeta frowned. He was not showing her his pod. What if she tried to steal it? He shook his head.
Hira's face faltered. "You don't have a home, do you…?" she spoke softly.
Bulma spun around to face her nanny. "He can come live with us!" she suggested excitedly.
"I don't know, Bulma… he's—"
"Oh come on! You said yourself that he has nowhere to go! What about 'ohana? 'Ohana means family. And family means—"
"—nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten. But Bulma, he's not family; he's just a little boy. He's—"
"—just like me! I'm not your family either, but you said I'm 'ohana, too. So are you gonna leave me out in the rain? Because I'm not going anywhere if he can't go, too."
Vegeta looked between the two females in utter bewilderment. What was going on?
Bulma huffed, crossing her arms and slumping down next to him. Hira sighed. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I hate when you use 'ohana against me," she said, sticking her tongue out at the little girl. "He can stay… for now. We'll see how things go."
Bulma squealed in delight. "Yay!" she screeched, barreling over and crushing the boy in a hug. Vegeta tried to pry her off of him. "You get to come live with us! You can share my room, and play with my toys, and it's gonna be so much fun!"
Vegeta managed to grasp her fingers and peel her away from him. Hira laughed. "Come on, dork. Let's go home. We can work all that out when we get there."
After everyone had left, a large, robust pink alien in strange armor emerged from the bushes, followed by a tall, bright red man with a white mullet who was pulling twigs out of his hair. The red alien grunted in annoyance and turned to his comrade.
"Well, damn. There he goes off with those Ee-arthlings! What're we gonna do now? How're we supposed to get'm back to base, Dodoria?"
Dodira picked an apple from a nearby tree and stuffed it into his mouth, rolling his eyes. "Don't be so impatient, Jeice. We'll get him back. More than anything, I wanna see how Assassin 626 reacts on this planet."
Jeice furrowed his white eyebrows. "Whaddya mean?"
Dodoria smirked. "His destructive behaviors should come out at any moment. If nothin' else, the full moon'll come eventually. Either way, soon, he'll be purging the area and causing chaos."
"But Dodoria! You heard Zarbon! No one should know we're here; you know the code!"
Dodoria chuckled maliciously. "As long as we don't make ourselves known, how can we be held liable? 626, when we finally return him to base, will get what's comin' to him." The large man's eyes narrowed. "Just be patient."
Bulma picked up the bucket of wet sand and quickly turned it over. "And that's how you make a sand castle!" she demonstrated excitedly.
Vegeta frowned in thought for a moment. Then, suddenly, he smirked and brought his bare foot crashing down on the sculpture.
"Hey…!" she huffed, crossing her arms. "Meanie. That wasn't very nice!"
"Hn," the young boy grunted. He turned away, looking for something more interesting to do. A small distance away, he saw some Ee-arthlings tossing a ball over some netting, so he decided to investigate. Bulma, now curious, followed behind him with her bucket, which was now filled halfway with water.
As Vegeta came up to the scene, the ball bounced in the sand by his feet, and a young man came running after it. "Hey, little man, can we have that back?" he asked, sticking out his hand.
Vegeta bent forward, picking up the ball and studying it in his hands.
"Any time now, dude. We're wanting to get back to the game! Hand it over!"
Vegeta scowled at the man's impatience. He looked up slowly, and as his eyes met the young man's he hurled the ball at his face. Instantly, the young man cried out as he fell backward, blood gushing from his nose. "You little jerk!"
"Hey! That wasn't nice, either!" Bulma cried, and for good measure, flung her bucket of water into Vegeta's face.
The Saiyan growled ominously, wiping his face. "Ju do të bëni që jo më shumë ..." he spat, and raised his hands to hit her and shove her down when he caught to recognizable beings out of the corner of his eye. They were both hidden away under the shadows of the trees, but he knew instantly who they were—Jeice and Dodoria. So they found him after all. The boy sulked, instead grabbing Bulma's hand and hauling her away. He knew they'd never attack him as long as she was around—that was part of their inner-planetary code.
Bulma bent over to pick up her water gun and other toys before leading Vegeta over to the picnic area where Hira was sitting, unloading the cooler. She pulled out a sandwich for each of them, a bag of chips, and some fruit for dessert. Immediately, Vegeta snatched his own sandwich, chips, and fruit and devoured them ravenously, before snatching half of Bulma's sandwich as well.
"Hey, that's mine!" she whined. When he refused to give it back, Bulma took her water gun and spritzed him in the face.
Vegeta turned on her instantaneously, grabbing her wrist and shouting at her. "Ju keni bërë që për herë të fundit!" he yelled. He grabbed her water gun and flung it a good distance away. Bulma scowled at him, pulling her hand free. "You're such a jerk," she said, before wandering off to retrieve the gun.
After their picnic at the beach, Hira stopped at the store to pick up a few items before heading home. On the way back out, something wonderful caught Vegeta's eye. It was another ship, on dock and ready to launch! He rushed towards it and hopped inside, searching for the ignition. Bulma giggled and ran over, too, digging into her pocket.
"You wanna ride it?" she asked, popping a quarter into the slot. She jumped into the seat beside him as the ship began to rock and jolt back and forth slowly. Vegeta looked around in confusion before realization finally hit him. He leaned back, groaning in annoyance.
"Isn't this fun?" Bulma asked, her eyes alight with amusement.
The Saiyan crossed his arms and huffed, looking away.
Later that night, the two Ee-arthlings and the Saiyan had returned home and were preparing for bed. Vegeta had to share Bulma's room for now until they could get a spare room cleared out for him. Bulma didn't mind in the least—she was more than eager to share everything she had with him. Unfortunately, the boy didn't understand what sharing meant, so he didn't reciprocate those feelings at all.
"This is my bed," she was explaining as she rushed around the room. "We'll make a spot for you over here, and…" she trailed off as he flopped onto his back on her pillow. "Hey!"
Vegeta scowled at her and returned to staring at the ceiling, taking a swig from the drink she had given him.
"I just told you that that's my bed. Boys and girls can't sleep together, okay? I'll share anything else, but that's mine! You're gonna sleep over here!"
When he continued to ignore her, Bulma huffed, crossing her arms, before going over and jerking the arm he had steadying the bottle in his mouth away from him. He dripped liquid all over his face. "çfarë dreqin ishte kjo?!" he yelled.
"You're going to listen to me! I told you to move!" she pointed to the far side of the room for good measure.
The Saiyan glowered at her before jumping off the bed. As he walked away, he pitched toys that were in his path, including Maya. "Don't!" she whined. "Maya's got a head injury, and she needs r—" she stopped abruptly as she heard the tearing of paper. She looked over and saw he was shredding the artwork she had on her easel. "No! That's from my 'Blue Period'!" He continued to wander about the room, demolishing anything he could get his hands on. Not knowing what else to do, Bulma grabbed one of her leis from her doorknob, rushed up behind him, and flung it over his shoulders, putting pressure on his shoulders with her hands. The Saiyan froze immediately, eyes wide at the sudden contact. He was never touched unless he was being hit. But this female wasn't trying to hurt him. What was she doing?
"There, that's better," she exhaled deeply. She snuck her arms around, giving him a hug. When she was angry, she knew that all she really wanted was a hug from Hira to make everything feel better. Maybe that's what Vegeta needed, too.
"Geez, you wreck everything you touch," she whispered softly in his ear, tucking her hair behind her own ear. "Why not make something for a change?"
The young boy's eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment. Then, he grabbed her hands gently, requesting to be released. She did so, and watched as he hurried about the room, taking various objects and using them to build with. After a few moments, Bulma nodded in interest as she examined what he built.
"Wow. Los Angeles. Nice," she nodded again in approval. Then, Vegeta startled Bulma as he began terrorizing the makeshift town he had just built, roaring, flinging toys, picking up dolls and toy cars as he threatened them and flung them away. Bulma just sat there for a moment, eyes wide, before replying, "Okay. No more caffeine for you."
She went over and sat on the bed, picking up her sketch pad and crayons and beginning to draw as he continued to fling wreckage everywhere. When he saw she was no longer watching, he became bored rather quickly, instead walking over and hopping on the bed to sit down next to her. He looked over her shoulder with interest.
Bulma saw him looking over her shoulder and smirked. "This is you," she explained, outlining the drawing of the boy with spiky hair with her finger. Then, she pointed to a level of filled-in red crayon that colored about 85% of the outline, just up past the boy's bangs. "This is your badness level. As you can see, it's unusually high for someone your size. We need to work on that," she said matter-of-factly. Suddenly, she gasped. "I know! Tomorrow, we'll work on you becoming a productive member of society! I'll teach you how to do it."
The Saiyan rolled his eyes. He had an unusually high absorption rate, and though he couldn't speak her language yet, he knew what she was saying. "Ju jeni krejtësisht absurde," he mumbled.
Bulma crossed her arms. "I may not understand what you're saying, but I know you're arguing. That's what we're gonna do tomorrow, and that's final. Now, I'm going to bed, so go over to yours. Goodnight." Vegeta jumped off the bed as she pulled the covers out from under the mattress and snuggled in. "Goodnight," she said again, turning over.
The Saiyan raised an eyebrow. He sat down in the floor, studying some of the toys he had destroyed earlier.
A good distance away, two aliens sat in silence and watched the young boy through the window. "Hm. Interesting," Dodoria said quietly.
"What's that, Dodoria?" Jeice said, shoving a kabob into his mouth.
Dodoria paused, watching Vegeta curiously. The boy was sitting in the floor, going through Bulma's bookshelf and looking lost. Dodoria watched as he pulled a book, opened it, and flung it across the room in disinterest. This process continued for a few moments before Dodoria continued. "626 was designed to be a monster. But now, he has nothing to destroy. I gave him no greater purpose. What must it be like to have nothing? Not even memories to visit while he sleeps?"
Bulma awoke to her shoulder being nudged and someone grunting something in her ear. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and sat up. "What?" she yawned.
"Çfarë do të thotë kjo?" he asked, looking her directly in the eye before pointing at the book. She took it from him, and he crawled into the bed, lying down next to her.
"This? This is the story of 'The Ugly Duckling.'" Bulma pointed to the photo of the small duckling who had a word bubble next to him that said, "I'm lost!"
"See? He's sad because he's all alone and nobody wants him. And on this page, his family hears him crying, and they find him." Vegeta inched closer to the drawings, eyes wide with interest. Bulma smiled. "Then, the Ugly Duckling is happy, because he knows where he belongs." Vegeta frowned, gripping his chin in thought for a few moments. Then, he took the book from her and climbed off the bed, carrying it with him to his own and laying it down next to him.
"You need to get some sleep; we have a busy day tomorrow," she said, yawning and turning over on her side to face him. To her surprise, he obeyed her request; the Saiyan pulled his blankets free and snuggled underneath them, turning to face her on his side as well.
"Goodnight, Vegeta," she whispered, closing her eyes.
"…Natën e mire," he said quietly.
The next morning, Vegeta and Bulma were out in the front yard, playing. Bulma had decided she would dress the both of them this morning, and she herself was dressed in a white shirt, pink skirt, and sandals, with a matching pink headband in her hair. She had had him dress himself in a slightly-too-big Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans, and some boots. Vegeta looked very uncomfortable, but said nothing.
"Now, there are three things you need to learn how to do good to be a model citizen, and I think they're important for you to learn. The first one is dancing. Follow me, and I'll show you how." Bulma shook her hip to the right, and gestured for Vegeta to follow. The young boy, however, hesitated, not meeting her eyes.
"Oh, come on, Vegeta, it's fun!" she yelled, grabbing his hips and forcing him to shake back and forth. A blush rose instantly to his cheeks, and he gasped.
"Stop që këtë çast!" he said, grabbing her hands and throwing them off him.
Bulma only giggled. "Too shy to shake your hips, huh? Okay. We'll start with a slow dance, then. That one's probably better, anyway."
She approached him slowly, grabbing his hand. He flinched a little, hesitating, but he didn't pull away. Bulma guided that hand to her waist. She placed her now empty hand on his shoulder, and grabbed his other hand with her other one. "Now. This is how you slow dance. You just lead me around like this, okay?" she demonstrated. Vegeta looked down at his feet as he followed her, then looked up to meet her eyes. She smiled at him, and the Saiyan gulped, blushing furiously and looking away. Bulma chuckled.
"You're doing really good, see?" she said. "I think you've actually got this down!"
Just as she said that, there was a sickening crunch as his foot landed on her exposed toes. "Ow!" she cried, hopping on one foot and cradling the other with her hands, tears welling in her eyes. She rushed to sit down on the bench, and Vegeta hurried over next to her, looking anxious.
"Na vjen keq! Unë nuk do të thotë për të!" he said quickly, looking into her eyes. He sat down next to her, grabbing her foot gently and examining it; Bulma could see the apology in his eyes. Somehow, his being sorry made her feel better immediately; in fact, with her foot in his hands, it didn't even hurt at all—just like when Hira did it.
"It's okay—I feel much better now," she said, offering him a smile. "How 'bout we do something else, though? Just to be safe." She stood up and hobbled over to the instrument lying by her belongings. "This is a guitar," she explained, hopping back over to him. "All the cool guys on TV play one, and the girls love it!"
Vegeta took the guitar from her, studying it. "Here. You take your hand like this—" she grabbed his hand and placed it on the strings, "—and you strum it like this, and it makes music! Now, you try!"
Vegeta strummed it a few times, listening to the sound reverberate from the strings. He decided fairly quickly that he liked the sound, and continued to play, picking at them faster and faster.
"You're a natural!" Bulma cooed, sitting back down next to him. "You could be a rock star!"
Vegeta stood from the bench, now thoroughly getting into the act. He picked at the strings vigorously, bobbing his head to the rhythm with his eyes closed. He began head-banging, and in a fit of rockstar-like rage and emotion, hauled his guitar overhead by the fret board and brought it crashing to the ground—the instrument shattered into splinters.
Bulma sat for a moment in silence. "Hm. Maybe that isn't for you, either," she admitted. "We're trying to get rid of the rage, not encourage it."
A while later, Bulma, Vegeta, and Hira had returned to the beach. Bulma had convinced her nanny to go visit the ocean again today, and Hira had agreed, citing a definitive need to get away from housework. Bulma had also coaxed Vegeta (albeit begrudgingly) into combing his hair before they went. He pouted, crossing his arms and feeling very uncomfortable.
"You look very handsome," she said, brushing at his Hawaiian shirt and handing him a rose. "Just like Elvis. A real face of romance." Bulma pointed over to where an elderly woman sat absorbed in reading her newspaper. "She looks like she could use some lovin'," she coaxed with a wink, elbowing him a little. Vegeta scowled at her before walking over to crawl onto the bench beside the woman.
Deciding to just do what he was told and get it over with, he sat with the rose in one hand and stared straight ahead, grabbing the elderly woman's hand with his and holding it in his lap.
"Good," Bulma whispered, standing next to him. "Now, kiss her."
Vegeta rolled his eyes, wrinkling his nose in disgust, before leaning forward towards the old woman, puckering his lips. The woman screamed, pushing him away. "Young man!" she bellowed, smacking him upside the head. Vegeta flinched, rubbing at his head as Bulma yanked him away, running back towards Hira.
"Don't worry; I bet Elvis had his bad days, too!" she panted as they rushed to put as much distance between themselves and the old woman as possible.
They skidded to a halt in front of Hira, gasping for breath. The nanny examined the both of them, narrowing her eyebrows. "What have you been doing?" she asked disapprovingly.
Bulma took a moment to gain her composure before smiling up at her nanny. "Nothing," she said innocently. "Just playing."
"Why… do I not believe you," Hira asked, more as a statement than a real question. "Nevermind. I'm gonna take my board out with Katashi. Would you like to join?"
"Yeah!" Bulma yelled excitedly. She grabbed Vegeta's hand and jerked him towards the surf boards. Katashi was Hira's boyfriend-but-not-boyfriend, and was the absolute best person to go surfing with, apart from Hira.
Moments later, Bulma sat excitedly on the front of the board, clapping her hands, as Hira paddled them toward the waves. Vegeta sat on the back, arms and legs crossed and glowering. Why was he in the water? How had he managed to get himself into this?
Katashi swam up beside them on his own board and ruffled Vegeta's hair as he passed. "Hang on, bud!" he called out to him before pulling Bulma over to his own board. Vegeta watched as Katashi and Bulma gained altitude before torpedoing into the underside of the wave, coming out of the other side of the makeshift tunnel. Bulma was giggling, the sheer happiness and excitement evident on her face.
The Saiyan almost smiled himself, anxious to try the new thrill ride. He plucked at Hira's clothing and brandished his finger, indicating he wanted to try, too.
Hira gave him a smile and paddled up to the next towering wave, catching it just right as they flew underneath. He watched as the water spun around him and crashed on the other side, but it never touched him. It was so—beautiful, and fun. He felt so free. Vegeta smiled in delight—this was almost like flying!
As they came back out the other side, the young boy worked to fix his façade into a neutral expression once again. As they came near Katashi and Bulma floating nearby, however, he couldn't quite keep his face completely neutral as he smirked at Bulma—she grinned back.
And thus was how they spent the rest of their afternoon; taking turns catching waves, Vegeta watching as the other three swam in the ocean, built sandcastles, and rested on the beach. Toward dusk, Vegeta grabbed Hira's surfboard and dragged it behind him with both hands, approaching Bulma from behind as she was building another fortress in her castle. He nudged her shyly on the back of her head with his forehead.
Some distance away, Dodoria shook his head from his position. "I don't understand. 626 hates water—I don't think he can even properly swim," he acknowledged to Jeice. "Why would he go back out there? Why would he risk drowning?"
At the same time, Jeice received a call on his scouter. "Jeice! You're late with your report!" the voice barked.
"L-Lord Frieza!" he squeaked, gripping the scouter. "I was just about to contact you. I—"
"What is the latest report?" the tyrant demanded.
"I…uh…" Jeice faltered. He looked to Dodoria for help.
Dodoria offered none. "Hang up," he ordered, pushing the button to end the call. "We're going swimming."
Hira paddled out into the waves as the two children sat on the board, waiting eagerly for the rollercoaster ride. The three of them watched as the wave built, and Hira positioned the board to prepare for the opportune moment. When it came, she set off, and the children both smiled in delight. Bulma stood up on the board, sticking her hands out as though she were flying. Vegeta shakily stood up to imitate her, sticking his hands out and closing his eyes.
That was the moment.
Before he even knew what had happened, Vegeta found himself surrounded in water, sinking in the strong arms of Dodoria. He struggled and kicked, doing his best to get free. As he did so, he continued to take water into his nose and mouth, and his panic increased exponentially.
Above, Bulma and Hira resurfaced, having been knocked under by the force of the blow from Dodoria, though neither one of them had seen him attack the board. Bulma sputtered as she spit water out of her mouth and wiped her eyes. Hira could see Katashi as he sped through the water to meet them.
"We lost Vegeta!" Bulma cried. Immediately after she said that, Vegeta broke the surface, clinging to her in a panic. He didn't want to drown again! He'd managed to break free, but Dodoria was hot on his heels. Unintentionally, he pushed Bulma under the water in his fever to get as far away from Dodoria and the water as possible. Dodoria stayed hidden under the cover of the water as he gripped Vegeta's ankle firmly, yanking him under. In an act of desperation, Vegeta grabbed onto Bulma, but that only resulted in her being pulled under, too.
"Hey!" Hira yelled anxiously. She looked at Katashi, who had finally made it over. "Vegeta's got Bulma!" she yelled at him, diving under the water. Immediately, Katashi dove into the water after her.
Hira broke Vegeta's grip on Bulma and kicked him away, swimming away with her to the surface. Dodoria pulled Vegeta close to him and encircled him with his massive arms once again. Vegeta managed to free an arm, and did the only thing he knew that would work: he summoned a ball of ki and aimed it directly at Dodoria's face, firing. The large pink man howled, releasing the Saiyan and clutching at his face, swimming away instinctively. Vegeta did his best to paddle away, but he couldn't swim; even worse, he had taken in too much water. His head began to feel light, and his movements slowed—he wasn't going to make it. His eyes drifted closed as his body became limp and unmoving.
Katashi scooped up the young boy in one arm and paddled to the surface. When they reached the shoreline, the older man laid the young boy on the sand and began resuscitating him. Hira was doing the same to Bulma.
Both of the children came around with very little effort. "Oh, Bulma, are you okay, baby?" Hira gushed worriedly, cradling the child in her arms.
Katashi patted Vegeta on the back rather roughly once he was sure the boy was okay. "What were you doing? You almost got her killed!" The man ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration.
Hira came over to Katashi, pulling Vegeta away from him. "Katashi, he didn't mean to; he's just a kid—"
"So? 'Kid' or not, he almost killed Bulma! That boy has caused nothing but problems for you guys since you found him. You were much better off without him in the first place!" Katashi retorted heatedly.
Hira fixed him with an even glare. "How dare you say something like that to a child. You know what? Maybe we're better off without you." She turned to the two children. "Come on, guys. Let's go home."
"Why haven't you taken him in yet?!" Lord Frieza bit out icily.
Jeice began babbling nervously. "Lord Frieza, he's incredibly clever! He never leaves the girl's side! You know what would happen if we were to break the code!"
"Your incompetence astounds me," he deadpanned. "I am sending Zarbon to finish this, since you obviously can't. You have been relieved of your mission. Trust me; your clumsiness will cost you when you return to base. That is all."
"Lord Frieza, wait—" Jeice began, but was abruptly cut off when the call disconnected.
Vegeta walked solemnly to their room as Bulma followed. Without a glance in her direction, he turned into the doorframe. He changed into his Saiyan armor in silence, and headed towards his bed before stopping when something caught his eye. He walked slowly over toward the picture frame and picked it up, staring at the image's contents.
"That's us… before," Bulma said quietly. "My parents. It was rainy, and they went for a drive…"
Vegeta tore his eyes away from the photograph to look at her when she faltered. He sat the photograph back on the table and examined her eyes, seeing a pain there that he wanted to take away.
"What happened to yours?" she asked, just as gently. "…I hear you cry at night. Do you dream about them?"
Vegeta looked away and closed his eyes, hugging his arms to his torso. His family had been murdered not long before he went to serve Lord Frieza. Since then, he'd never looked back. He didn't have a family anymore.
Bulma continued in the same quiet voice, averting her own eyes. "I know that's why you wreck things—push me. Our family's little now, and I don't have many toys, but if you want, you can be a part of it…" She crawled into her bed as Vegeta walked over to his own, grabbing the book on his nightstand before walking to the window. He paused, unmoving and dangling a leg out of it, when she spoke again.
"You could be my brother, like our baby, and we'd raise you to be good. 'Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind. But if you want to leave, you can."
Vegeta frowned and turned away, fighting back the tears in his eyes. Then he jumped from the window.
"I'll remember you, though," she said quietly, looking over to her photograph now. "I remember everyone that leaves." She pulled her blankets close to her chin and rolled over to her side, closing her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Vegeta sat on the ground in the middle of the wooded clearing, opening the book and setting it gently on his knees. He stared longingly at the pictures, touching the drawing of the Ugly Duckling and his family with his hand, outlining the words in the speech bubble.
"L…lost," the young boy croaked through a tightened throat, the tears shining in his eyes. He clutched the book tightly to his chest. "I'm lost," he said quietly. Then he cast his eyes to the stars, the tears falling freely now. "I'm lost!"
The next morning, the young Saiyan stirred, having finally fallen into an uncomfortable sleep on top of his book. He looked around groggily, taking in his surroundings. When he heard a rustling to his left, he jumped up quickly, slightly afraid. He realized that must have been what had roused him. He looked around frantically, trying to assess the situation as quickly as possible, but he was ambushed before he could gather the ki he needed to protect himself.
Dodoria stood before him, hand glowing, with Jeice coming to stand behind Vegeta. "Don't move," Dodoria warned. "Don't make us hurt you. Fun time is over. We're taking you back to base."
Vegeta looked around helplessly. "Yes, that's it. Come quietly," Dodoria continued with a slight smirk.
The young Saiyan clasped his hands together nervously. For the first time, he looked completely innocent and vulnerable. "W…waiting," he said quietly.
Dodoria's brow line furrowed. "For what?"
"Family." There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice as he looked back at the open book.
Dodoria laughed. "You don't have one. I made you what you are. Lord Frieza made you. That's all the family you have."
Vegeta wrung his hands together, tears shining in his eyes again. "But… m-maybe I could—"
"You're made to destroy. You can never belong."
Vegeta slumped his shoulders, closing his eyes as more tears ran down his face, absolutely crestfallen. "Now, come quietly," Dodoria urged, "and we'll take you back."
Instead of complying, however, he darted away as fast as his legs would carry him. "No-no-no wait!" Dodoria called, running after him. He howled in absolute frustration, tearing off after the boy.
Bulma was sitting on the swing outside, looking down sadly at Maya in her hands, when Vegeta made it to the back yard. As quickly as he could, he ran up to her and gently grabbed her hand.
"What are you doing back here?" she asked as he hauled her into the bushes to hide. "Hey! Let me go!"
"No time," he said simply, and continued to drag her along.
"Wait, you can speak English now?" she said incredulously, looking at him.
Vegeta made a motion to hold his finger in front of his lips. "Shh," he said quietly, kneeling down to use the surrounding bushes as cover and urging her to do the same. Moments later, Dodoria and Jeice appeared, attempting to break into her house.
"Aliens!" she whispered excitedly. Her excitement turned to horror as she watched Dodoria and Jeice tearing everything in the vicinity apart in search of them.
"Those jerks," Bulma whispered heatedly. "I can't believe they're wrecking my house! Why are they doing that?" she asked, looking back over to Vegeta.
He knew now that if there was any hope in the world of this girl accepting him, now was the time to tell her who he really was. Reluctantly, he unwrapped his tail from his body and let it protrude from his clothing so she could see it. He looked down at the ground, not meeting her eyes.
"…You're one of them?"
He nodded solemnly.
"…Why didn't you tell me?" she asked sadly.
Vegeta was searching for the words to answer her when they were booth swooped up from behind. Bulma cried out, caught by surprise. Vegeta shifted around to look at their captor—of course, it was Dodoria.
The young boy clawed at the large man's arms to get free, and Bulma, seeing his panic, did the same. Dodoria only chuckled as he gripped them tighter. "It's time to go back home, monkey boy," he smiled. "I told you—Lord Frieza wants to see you."
Dodoria shifted his weight and the weight of the children over to grab a capsule in his pocket. He clicked it, and immediately, the tube expanded to a makeshift carrying crate. He stuffed Bulma and Vegeta inside, sneering. "You've been a lot of trouble for me, 626. It's high time that's over with. To hell with the Inter-Galactic code—she'll go with you, and Lord Frieza can get rid of you both." He chuckled as the two children stared back at him in fear, stuffing them into the loading dock of his ship, which was hidden a few yards away. He walked away to start the engine and prepare for take-off.
Vegeta struggled through the tiny opening between the indestructible glass plates, but didn't do so without a significant amount of pain when forcing himself through. Bulma tried to follow him, but couldn't endure the suffering it took to get through the opening—Vegeta looked around helplessly as the craft started to hum. Then, with a jolt, it took to the air, knocking Vegeta out of the cargo dock and to the ground. Bulma's eyes widened when she realized she was going to be left on the ship alone.
"Don't leave me, okay?" she sobbed fearfully, eyes brimming with tears.
The ship rose higher and higher away from him. "Okay," he said worriedly. He looked around, searching for a plan. "Okay…" he repeated, his voice breaking and eyes wide with uncertainty.
The ship took off, and as Vegeta watched her fly away, something also caught his eye. There, in the clarity of the daytime sky, was Ee-arth's moon, catching light from the late morning sun. He studied the orb, entranced. It was so beautiful… so full…
His heart started pounding, and he felt a yearning in his insides—a yearning for freedom. His blood boiled, and he began breathing rapidly, his hands shaking. It was coming. He could feel it. Yes! This was just what he needed—the power he needed to overcome Dodoria and get Bulma back.
Vegeta cried out as his bones started breaking and repositioning themselves—his muscle mass grew at an alarming rate, fur sprouted all over his body, his teeth grew into fangs… and slowly, he lent himself over to the animal inside as his eyes rekindled in crimson.
The Oozaru let out a feral roar as he bounded forward, taking off after the ship.
Dodoria had just set the controls on the ship when he peered into the rearview magnifiers. Behind him, he saw a large ape tearing after him at an alarming rate. The pink alien jumped in surprise, and immediately went to rectify the controls and get them away from the Oozaru as quickly as possible. It was too late; with a sickening crunch of metal, Vegeta gripped onto the ship's outer wing, halting its course immediately.
The Saiyan ape cracked the ship's windshield with relative ease, and reached inside to grab Dodoria. The large man struggled to get away, but it was no use; the Oozaru's grip was overbearing.
"Come on, Vegeta; you're not going to kill me, are you?" Dodoria grunted, still struggling. "You'd only prove me right—that you're a monster. If she sees you kill, she'll never forgive you. Nobody can love a monster."
The Saiyan looked over warily to the girl in the cargo dock, who was staring back at him in shock. Slowly, the shock left her face as she searched his eyes, which were full of Vegeta's intensity and hesitance of the unknown. After a moment, she smiled at him.
That was all he needed. The Oozaru reached into Dodoria's armor, much to his surprise, and dug out a second tube. Once the cage was at full size, he took the robust alien and stuffed him inside.
"Hey!" Dodoria yelled. "You damned fool! You can't put me in here; I—" The rest of his speech was lost as Vegeta slammed the door shut on him.
The Oozaru carefully broke the glass and gently pulled Bulma free from the enclosure before tossing the ship carelessly into the ocean. No longer feeling the need to fight, he sighed in relief as he felt himself shrinking and returning to his normal size; his armor shrank with him.
"You came back," she said simply, staring into his eyes.
"'Ohana means family," he said simply. "Family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten."
Bulma smiled a smile that nearly touched her ears—without warning, she lunched forward and trapped him in an embrace. The Saiyan's eyes widened in shock; then he blushed magnificently from embarrassment at the openness of the gesture. He snuck a look around and, when he saw that no one was around, gently hugged her back.
They stayed that way a few moments before Vegeta heard someone walking up the path. It was Hira, and Vegeta could see a man following her; his blood ran cold. It was Zarbon.
"Vegeta, Zarbon says he's from where you live. He's here to take you home," Hira explained.
Zarbon walked over to Vegeta and knelt down next to him. Vegeta looked down, not meeting his eyes. "Come on, it's time to go, 626," he firmly.
"Vegeta," the Saiyan said, equally as firm. Zarbon raised an eyebrow, amused at the boy's tenacity.
"I'm sorry?" he asked.
"My name's Vegeta," the boy replied. Then, he looked down at his boots. "Do I have to get on the ship?"
"Yes."
"Can I say goodbye?"
Zarbon considered this for a moment. He'd always had a bit of a soft spot for the boy, only because the others were so dreadfully hard on him. "I suppose so," he said finally.
"Thank you."
Zarbon's eyes widened in amazement—the Prince of all Saiyans being thankful? Using manners? He watched as the young boy embraced the woman first (not without a blush, however), then holding the young girl even longer.
"Who are you?" Zarbon finally asked Hira.
Vegeta turned around to face him once more. "This is my family," he explained. "I found it all on my own. It's little, and… broken. But still good." He looked over at Bulma before nodding. "Still good."
Zarbon considered this for a moment. This family had reformed Vegeta for the better. Here, he would be no threat to Lord Frieza's galactic army or Frieza himself—he would have no desire to seek the tyrant out. Here, he could be happy. Here, he wouldn't meet the fated end Zarbon knew awaited him back on base. The lizard man sighed, accepting his decision.
"I have decided you will live out your life here in exile," he said.
Vegeta's eyes widened as they snapped up to meet Zarbon's, gazing at them in wonder. Zarbon smirked. "This family will oversee that exile, and make sure you will never take to space again. If I find out differently… I'll be waiting for you," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Goodbye, Vegeta," he said, and without another word, walked off in the direction of his space ship.
Vegeta looked over at Bulma, still stunned at what had just transpired. "Looks like you're stuck with us," she said, elbowing him in the arm. Then she gave him another hug.
Yes, he was stuck here, with these two insane Ee-arthling females. But somehow, Vegeta didn't really mind. For the first time in his life, he smiled the biggest smile he could imagine—he had finally found himself; found his family.
He had finally found his home.