Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story, nor make any money from it.
The lights and sights were mesmerizing. Bulma clung to her escort's arm, clutching his muscular bicep through the light linen fabric of his summer suit. The weather was mild, the light breeze wafting the sweet aroma of the carnival delicacies in the couple's direction as they leisurely strolled along the lit walkway which led to the carnival entrance. The words Kame Carnival proudly displayed above.
The path had been lined with string lights and posters displaying some of the acts they would be seeing this evening, Bulma marvelled at the colourful prints. Amongst the depictions there were: trapeze artists, jugglers, contortionists, a strong man, a fortune teller and even an illusionist. Bulma's eyes lingered on the last print; it contrasted greatly from the others. Where they were vibrant and full of colour, the illusionist's profile was dark and rather ominous. He had been painted looking directly out at the audience, his form shrouded in shadow. He did not look like a pleasant man; his heavy scowl darkened his face and his inky, upswept hair gave a jagged edge to his demeanour. His right hand was raised and in it he held a ball of blue light, which hovered above his palm. The blue highlighted the contours of his face making him look even more severe.
Bulma pulled her eyes away from the poster as they had reached the ticket booth at the end of the walkway. She watched as Yamcha handed over their entry fee to the elderly gentleman manning the booth. The man gave them both a warm smile as he slid their entry tickets through the small slot in the glass and wished them a good evening. Bulma was practically bouncing on her tip toes with excitement. She had never been to a carnival before. It wasn't that she had never wanted to go to one; she just had never had the time. From a very young age she had taken an interest in inventing things just like her father, and had begun to work in his lab whenever she was not studying. Although she had not been a sheltered child, very far from it actually, a carnival was one thing she had yet to experience, and she would make up for lost time tonight. She planned to see everything there was to see, and taste everything there was to taste.
Stepping into the hustle and bustle of the carnival grounds, Bulma let go of Yamcha's arm to rush forward and spin around in a circle, taking in the unfamiliar sights that greeted her. There were stalls housing games of chance, operated by an array of colourful characters shouting at the top of their lungs, beckoning passers-by to come and have a go. Food stands were mixed in amongst the stalls, displaying sweet treats and savoury, salty delights. The smells were enough to make Bulma lick her lips. In the distance a Ferris wheel could be seen rotating at an unhurried pace as patrons rode in the cars, laughing and admiring the sights below.
There was a carousel blaring a jaunty tune as it rotated, the gaudy fiberglass horses bobbing up and down carrying happy children and adults alike. But the sight that stood out amongst the glittering attractions and busy stalls was the pink and white striped big top at the centre of it all. The turreted structure stretched towards the sky, a large, white flag at its tip flapping easily in the breeze.
Feeling a hand wrap around her elbow, Bulma was pulled back to Yamcha's side. "Don't stray too far, my dear. This place is full of unsavoury characters". Bulma fought the urge to roll her eyes at his comment, but did look up at him with a slight frown. "These carnival folk are notorious thieves and swindlers. Keep your wits about you", Yamcha added with a distasteful curl of his lip.
Deciding to ignore what Yamcha had just said, Bulma pulled him through the throng of people, marvelling at the entertainers who mingled amongst the crowd. A man on stilts towered above them, his costume a garish mix of orange and blue, and his face heavily decorated with thick greasepaint. A shiny red nose sat in the middle of his face, attached by a piece of string which tied behind his head. When he noticed Bulma looking up at him, he removed the worn looking bowler hat he wore, revealing a bald head, and tipped it in her direction as he bowed. Bulma's smile widened.
As the stilt walker straightened, he returned his hat to his head and reached a hand into the inside pocket of his orange and blue striped blazer. He rummaged for a few seconds as Bulma watched on with anticipation. His wide painted smile lifted at the corners as he found what he was looking for and began to pull it free from the confines of his jacket. At first a red hanky appeared followed by a blue one and then a yellow one. The scraps of tied material kept coming and Bulma let out a chuckle at the clown's bemused look on his face. All the while Yamcha stood by her side, his arms crossed over his chest, unimpressed by the performer's antics.
The rope of scarves finally came to an end and the man gave an exaggerated wipe of his brow to show his relief. Attached to the end of the scarves was a paper flower, which the man untied and bent down to hand to Bulma. She took the delicate object marvelling at the fact it had not been damaged as it was pulled from his pocket. It was a well put together representation of a carnation, the thin petals had been dyed a vibrant blue that was almost the same shade as her hair. Bulma looked to the performer as she twisted the wire stem between her thumb and forefinger.
"Thank you so much", she said causing the man to smile brightly. With a nod of his head he straightened and made his way through the crowd to entertain some more carnival goers.
"Look, Yamcha", Bulma said turning to face him as she held out the flower in front of her. He gave the object a quick glance, the disinterest evident in his eyes.
"Yes, very pretty", he replied, unfolding his arms and offering his hand to her.
Bulma quickly tucked the flower into her hair, just above her right ear. She was sure the blue blossom was camouflaged by her cerulean strands, but she had nowhere else to keep it for the moment without fear of damaging it. Yamcha watched the act and found it uncouth. If he had his way, he would have discarded the damn thing already, but he did not want to upset Bulma by taking away something which clearly entertained her. No matter how pointless that item was.
She took his hand and they found themselves strolling from stall to stall, partaking in a number of games in an attempt to win prizes. They had just reached the ring toss when Yamcha had decided he had had enough of playing the almost unwinnable games. He paid just for Bulma to have a turn and stood back to watch her as she flung the plastic rings in an attempt to hook them over the empty bottles.
Yamcha was a lucky man; Bulma was a true beauty. Although she was considered 'new money' and did not rank very high in the social scale of things, she was a highly sort after commodity amongst the upper classes. She had a brilliant mind, thanks to her father. And she was stunning, thanks to her mother. The Briefs were not seen as a conventionally desirable family to be associated with, but they were extremely wealthy, and would only get richer as time went on.
Mr. Briefs was an inventor. He had been seen as a bit of a laughing stock amongst his peers whilst growing up, as he always came up with ideas for inventions that nobody could fully comprehend. In his younger years he had found it hard to get work in his field as no one wished to hire someone that the scientific community had labelled a mad man. So, Mr. Briefs had settled for a meagre paying job of building automatons for theatre and screen productions. That was when he met Panchy, his wife. She had been a film star who went by just the name Bunny in her active years, she was a blonde bombshell, and often played the ditzy lead in many films. She was famous for prancing around on stage and screen in barely-there costumes and had gotten a name for herself. According to many men she had been the nation's sweetheart at one point, but their wives would certainly disagree.
It had been a massive scandal when Bunny had eloped with a lowly stage production member, who was working on one of her films at the time. Soon after they had married, Mrs. Briefs invested a vast amount of her fortune into her new husband's business venture, which was now known internationally as Capsule Corporation.
Bulma was the sole heiress to a very affluent company. You couldn't go anywhere without seeing the distinctive Capsule Corp. logo printed on the side of a piece of machinery. Even Yamcha's beloved sports automobile was a Capsule Corp. creation.
Watching the woman he was currently courting laugh and enjoy herself bought a smile to Yamcha's face. His mother had been against the notion of bringing Bulma into their family due to her poor breeding as she had put it, but his father had insisted it would be beneficial to be associated with the Briefs and his mother had reluctantly relented. Yamcha just liked Bulma, she was rough around the edges, but he would mould her into the perfect high-society wife.
He watched as the carnival worker running the stall interacted with Bulma. She had managed to hook two hoops onto the bottles but the third ring had been a miss. The stall holder offered her an easy smile and gave her another go, free of charge. Yamcha frowned at the man's obvious interest, but perked up at Bulma's indifference to his attraction as she enjoyed herself.
Bulma managed to hook all three rings this time and let out a squeal of excitement as she bounced on the spot. The vendor congratulated her and showed her the choice of prizes to choose from. Bulma chose a small stuffed monkey. She thanked the man and turned to re-join Yamcha, who commended her on her win as they set off again. Bulma held the toy monkey in her hand, the long tail snuggly wrapped around her wrist.
Loud music began to play from the large circus tent at the centre of the fair and a voice bellowed, "Roll up, roll up", over a bullhorn. It was time for the main show to start and the crowds were beginning to move towards the large entrance of the tent, filtering in through the flaps to find their seats. Bulma and Yamcha managed to get ringside seats. They procured some popcorn from a passing snack vendor and sat back waiting for the show to begin. Once the crowd was fully seated, the lights dimmed, leaving only the circle illuminated.
That was when the ringmaster appeared. He was a short man, hunched over and walking with a cane. He had a white beard and wore thick glasses, indicating he was far beyond his prime. The walk to centre stage seemed to be doing a number on him alone, his slow shuffle suggesting it was time he possibly gave up the position of ringmaster.
Yamcha leaned over and whispered, "Can't the man move any faster?" with a snort.
Bulma kept her eyes on the elderly man. Once he had reached his destination it was like a new lease of life had shot through the old man's bones.
"Welcome to Kame Carnival!" He bellowed louder than anticipated. "You may call me Master Roshi, and boy do I have a treat for you this evening. I hope you enjoy". With that simple proclamation, the man threw something to the ground covered in sand. When the small object made impact with the hard floor a large cloud of pink smoke erupted, enveloping the ringmaster. When it had cleared he was gone. This earned a collective gasp from the audience followed by a round of clapping.
Bulma watched intrigued as the lights dimmed further and three spotlights switched on, aimed directly above. Three figures descended from overhead, dancing their way down large white sashes suspended from the structure above. They moved as effortlessly as a trio of spiders, abseiling down their own silk. They twisted and turned, flipping this way and that. The audience oohed and aahed as they marvelled at their acrobatic skill and fearlessness.
The act consisted of two women and a man, all dressed in matching costumes of white spandex decorated with silver accents. Once they had finished their routine, they planted their feet on the ground standing in a line; in the middle stood the shortest of the three. It was a woman with jet black hair which had been piled atop her head in a severe bun. She was petite, but deceivingly strong if the way she held her body up on the silk was anything to go by.
On either side of her stood two beings that were very similar in facial features. They were taller than the acrobat in the middle, but they were also slender. Both had piercing blue eyes, but the female was blonde while the male had black hair. They were clearly siblings, and judging by how similar they looked, possibly twins. The three performers held hands as they all simultaneously took a bow. They turned around and gave another bow to the rest of the audience their backs had previously been facing, all the while receiving a round of applause and a few wolf whistles.
The performers exited the circle by wrapping an arm in the silks they had used to descend, before the lengthy material was hoisted back up by unseen stage hands in the rafters. The material was retracted with ease, carrying the trio up and out of sight fluidly. Once they had disappeared completely from view, Bulma turned to Yamcha, he seemed just as mesmerized as her. Reaching a hand over, she grasped his and gave it a squeeze. She was glad he had brought her here tonight. She was excited to see all of the other acts still to come.