One of the Boys
Disclaimer:I don't own any of the Dragon Ball Series or its continuations and spin-offs. This is loosely based off of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. It's a sort of Dragon Ball Z version of She's the Man but that doesn't mean the same events will occur. ;)
Author's Note: I've been on a serious Dragon Ball Z binge. After scouring FF's databases for GokuxChi-Chi and BulmaxVegeta fanfiction, I feel like I was just left mostly with disappointment. So then I thought, 'Why not write your own?' So, here I am writing my own.
Everybody has a secret… Vegeta is pining after Chi-Chi. Chi-Chi likes Goku, who is actually Bulma in disguise whose brother is dating Maron. Bulma hates Chi-Chi who is with Vegeta just to make Goku jealous, but Goku is really Bulma who is crushing on Vegeta who thinks she's a guy. Who knew high school could be so complicated?
Chapter One: One of the Boys
A smirk fixed itself determinedly on her face as she brushed back wisps of blue hair behind her ears. Her bare feet dug themselves into a firm stance as she attempted to predict her opponent's next move. Hands raised ready to deflect or strike, she bounced on the balls of her feet and easily evaded a jab. She ducked her head low, pulling slightly to the left, and avoided another punch.
He was taller than she, stronger too, but brute strength hadn't stopped her before. She had sparred with many who were considered superior to her in physical prowess. She wasn't known for her might. She was a tactician, calm and calculating.
She pivoted, deflected another blow, and threw in three quick jabs. The first was to the jaw to daze her opponent. The next two were more prominent strikes, each landing effectively to the stomach. He fell back for a moment before approaching her again, this time with confidence.
He swung hard. She wasn't able to dodge quickly enough. This one connected with her cheek, knocking her back slightly. He got another few hits in. She stumbled more, nearly losing her balance. He had always been a tough opponent, but she wasn't about to give up just yet.
She back-flipped, allowing herself some distance for recovery. When she regained her composure and poise, she returned closer. It was time to put her tactfulness to work. She faked left, then right, surged forward for an uppercut. It connected flawlessly.
She sent a powerful elbow to his chest, spun and then strong-armed him. Ponytail whipping behind her head, she rapidly moved from the pathway of his fists as he attempted to counter. She kicked hard at the back of his knees and sent him face planting into the sand. Sand grains sprayed upward, pelting her legs slightly as she launched herself into the air, arms raised like a champion. She let out a triumphant howl.
Behind her, each of her friends cheered enthusiastically. Bulma placed her hands to her ponytail, tightened it, and approached her boyfriend, offering him her hand in assistance.
Graciously, he accepted the hand and allowed her to hoist him upward from the sand. Once on his feet, he captured her playfully by the legs, threw her over his shoulders and twirled her.
Laughter escaped from her lips as she called for him to set her down. Of course, she didn't mean the cries in the least. She loved any time he showed her affection.
"You big bully," she accused, pretending to beat her fists against his back but each blow was gentle. "Put me down!"
He finally complied by setting her down in the sand. Positioning himself above her, he pressed his lips to hers. Her hands instinctively rose to his face, tilting his head tenderly to deepen their kiss.
When she pulled away, he was smiling goofily. The scar on his face crinkled slightly as the corners of his lips tugged the smile even wider. "I have to admit, you're getting really good."
"Thanks, Yamcha. You're not too bad yourself," she replied. Her lips peeled back to reveal a boasting grin. "When we first started dating, you weren't that great of a kisser."
Yamcha scowled slightly in mock injury, but then laughed at her gibe. "I was referring to becoming a good fighter, smart ass. You've definitely surpassed at least half the guys on my team." His hand intertwined itself within the silky blue strands of her ponytail.
She looked pensive for a moment and then said, "I'm probably cuter too."
Before he could respond again, she pulled him to her for another kiss. The two had gotten lost in one another for a moment until Yamcha suddenly jerked back.
"What do you mean I wasn't that great?" He arched an eyebrow, awaiting her reply.
"Poor baby." Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him toward her. "Practice makes perfect."
The Following Day, Orange Star High School Training Field
Two uniformed young girls happily plodded through the grass field, enraptured by their conversation as they lead the way for the rest of their team to follow. Each team member had a duffel bag with their workout equipment and their hair decisively pulled back from their faces.
The leader of the group bounced a dragon ball playfully from hand to hand. She had won it after her sparring session with her boyfriend. It was a trophy of sorts, symbolizing recognition of superiority. Any time the two sparred, the victor was awarded the safekeeping of the crystalline orb.
Together, she and Yamcha had collected one during a geo-caching escapade. There were seven collectible dragon balls, and once all of them had been brought together, it was said any wish made with them would come true. Bulma and Yamcha had decided that if they gathered all seven, they'd wish for eternal happiness and lots of children.
Perhaps it was cheesy, but Bulma was a hopeless romantic at heart and a fan of myths such as those, wishful thinking or not. There were several stories of upperclassmen from the different high schools of their city who had gathered all the dragon balls to make wishes of winning national titles for their schools, passing their final exams, getting an affirmative response to asking their crush to a school dance, being accepted into their premier college of choice and many other desires of the average high school student. If those could all come true, surely that meant the urban legend was true.
Bulma stopped in her tracks, snapping back to reality as she took note of an unfamiliar presence. Brow furrowed, she turned to her companion Launch and the remainder of her team members. "What's the track team doing out here on our training field?"
She and her teammates exchanged uneasy glances for a moment, no one able to offer any sort of explanation.
Ranfan Garment, Bulma's good friend and co-captain approached them with fervor. Before Bulma could ask Ranfan if she had any ideas as to the invasion, the purple-haired girl lifted a clipboard up. "Apparently, our school's budget cuts mean we are no longer a team. We don't have enough team members so we're expendable."
"What?" Bulma took the clipboard in her hands and studied the information. "So just because we didn't meet their quota, our team is getting cut from the World Martial Arts Tournament?" She scoffed, returning the clipboard to Ranfan. "This is total bull."
"They can't do that to us," added Launch, punching her right fist into the palm of her left hand. The action made a loud smack as she scowled.
Known for her notorious mood swings, Launch often dyed her hair in two different tones. Currently she sported the ombre hairstyle with harsh black on the top of her head before it lightened at her shoulders into blonde. At first the style had earned her several critiquing looks from her peers until her hairdo was copied and had become very popular among girls her age. With it becoming such a common look, Launch swore to change it again drastically into something more absurd in hopes she wouldn't set anymore trends. Usually sudden events, such as their current situation, would prompt and inspire her to get a new look.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Bulma vowed. Her hand squeezed tightly around the orange dragon ball she'd carelessly been playing with earlier.
Her casual stride became quite determined as she crossed the grass to the other side of the training field where the men's martial arts team was currently practicing. The rest of the team followed closely behind her.
Bulma sidled up to Coach Ginyu, who refused to look her way even when she held up the clipboard she had reclaimed from Ranfan. Instead, he stared straight ahead at his team, pretending to be fixated on their practice. "Hello, ladies. I heard what happened—it's a shame your team got cut."
"A shame?" Bulma repeated in astonishment. "This is life ruining!"
"Totally career damaging," agreed Launch. "College scouts aren't going to see us compete. How are we supposed to get any scholarships now?"
Still refusing to make eye contact, Ginyu shrugged. "The school's done you a real disservice. Let me know if there's anything I can do to lessen the impact of the situation." He lacked any hints of remorse despite his words.
"There is something you can do actually. You can let us try out for your men's team."
Ginyu chuckled, at last looking at Bulma who wasn't amused whatsoever. "Oh, you were serious?" He returned his line of vision back to his team who had all become suddenly aware of the conversation taking place. Giving them a look which suggested for them to mind their business and keep practicing, he said to the girls, "Well, I can't do that. It'll have to be something more practical."
Bulma wasn't going to give up, and she certainly hadn't appreciated Ginyu's divided concentration. She moved to stand directly in front of him, demanding his attention. "Practical? You're very well aware of our skills as fighters. We've won our women's team division the past six years in a row—a feat no other female team has accomplished in this tournament." She met his dark eyes straight on, despite the difference in height. "Let us try out for your team."
Coach Ginyu sighed. He uncrossed his arms and put them exasperatedly to rest on his hips. "Look girls, school begins in two weeks. We scrimmage against the Saiyans, a rivalry match we cannot afford to lose even this early in the season. Our victory will set the tone for the entire season and likely be a determining factor of who will take in the World Martial Arts Tournament. Year after year, without fail, we are matched up with Saiyan Academy in the finals and must defend our title as last year's champions. They've been training hard to beat us the past couple years and I'm not willing to sacrifice our title to let you ladies try out."
"What's going on coach?" Yamcha had jogged up to join the conversation although the coach had given him a prior look to continue training.
"The ladies want me to let them try out for our team," Ginyu explained, offhandedly. He made it evident in his voice that he had absolutely no interest in humoring them.
"You can't be serious, babe." Yamcha had begun to chuckle and the scar Bulma had once thought of as endearing suddenly looked cruel. In a matter of seconds, her boyfriend had lost all his charm and she wondered, most sourly, what he actually thought of her and their relationship.
By now, the rest of the men's team had put their training on pause and come to offer their team captain support. They clustered around Yamcha in reinforcement. One of them, Tien Shinhan, slung an arm around Yamcha and sneered. "You're dreaming if you think you can contend with us. Go back to the kitchen."
That hit a nerve. Bulma snarled, about to challenge Tien to a duel right then and there, but Coach Ginyu had predicted her reaction and held an arm to bar her way. "Alright, simmer down everyone." When he felt Bulma was no longer a threat, he lowered his arm and continued. "It's a scientific fact that men are stronger and better fighters than women. You can't argue with science."
Bulma recognized that the comment was specifically designated to deter her. Everyone was well aware of her father's accomplishments at Capsule Corporation and that she showed great promise as a scientist herself. However true the scientific fact of men exhibiting greater physical prowess, it still didn't quite make men better fighters. Physical ability didn't always determine a winner in a fight. She herself was proof of that. Skill, talent, tactics and even sometimes luck all played key roles alongside power in a match. And the scientist in her, feeling challenged, would test that theory somehow to prove them all wrong. She wasn't going to let anyone tell her she wasn't good enough. She could easily be one of the boys.
"Women will always lose to men in a fight." Ginyu's voice was flat.
She turned to her boyfriend for support, expecting to find encouragement. "Yamcha, you're the team captain. Give us your input."
Yamcha shrugged. "Coach Ginyu already took the words out of my mouth."
She arched her eyebrow. Often times she and Yamcha would butt heads, get into little spats every now and then as did most high school couples, but she always felt that when push came to shove, Yamcha would be there for her. She felt betrayed, like she'd done a trust fall and just when he was supposed to catch her, he let her fall. "That's not what you said yesterday when I kicked your ass. You told me I'd surpassed most these chumps standing behind you."
His expression was no longer lighthearted as his teammates looked to him in surprise and disapproval of Bulma's allegation. "Bulma," he said sternly, "I've never expressed that to you before."
"You've got to be kidding me," she cried, taken aback so much it showed in her body language as she withdrew a few steps. Never would she have expected Yamcha to retract his statement or to lie to her. "You can't seriously lie to my face like that when I was there! How could you?" Her expression shifted from angry determination to severe hurt. Yamcha had betrayed her so effortlessly.
"Bulma, I'm not continuing this talk with you." Yamcha folded his arms and took a definitive stance. Bulma looked from his face to the face of his friends, his teammates, whose jeering countenances all seemed to match.
They were united against her and her boyfriend was doing nothing to defend her. She supposed that the Yamcha she spent private company with was far different than the Yamcha before her who was backed by the overflowing testosterone emanating from him and his teammates. Right now, he was someone else. Some casually cruel version of Yamcha she had never known existed. But perhaps he had been there all along and she was just now noticing.
"Fine by me, Yamcha," she said in a low voice. "I'm not continuing this relationship with you."
Tien, and the rest of Yamcha's teammates, made a fuss from behind him and returned to their place on the field, withdrawing their support. Yamcha was grateful for the privacy although he felt more than annoyed by their reaction. Bulma had put him in his place, and they all took off like frightened rabbits unable to provide him endorsement.
"Come on, Bulma." His voice came out in a soft whine, calling her back to the conversation. "Don't be like that. I'm just worried that you'll get hurt and I can't do anything about it."
She didn't need to hear him attempt to rationalize the situation with false concern for her well-being. She and he knew very well that he had omitted the actual truth of the matter. She was already walking off.
Then Bulma sighed. Still, she couldn't call it quits just yet with Yamcha. She turned back and approached, looking down to the dragon ball she held in her hand. She then looked up to her now ex-boyfriend. She took him in, all of him, as if for the first time.
Yamcha, tall, dark and undoubtedly handsome, had always been dependable and supportive. Bulma had been convinced she'd marry him eventually and they'd spend the rest of their lives together in bliss, growing old and admiring their children.
When they first met, he'd been painfully shy, almost completely unable to be in her presence without blushing. It took some great time before he had grown more comfortable around her. However, she noticed sometime during last summer when he left on an extended absence to train, something had changed within him. He returned with a more confident attitude and facial scars. At first, she thought they suited him, made him appear more rugged, adding to his charisma. But now she could see clearly that the scars he received during his time spent away from her were more than just physical remnants of what had occurred. He'd become cocky, started flirting with other women behind her back—something she'd been in denial of despite the many claims of their mutual friends. She'd felt they had to be mistaken, such deluded thinking.
Gazing back into his eyes, she searched hard for the Yamcha she'd fallen in love with, for the man that had promised her forever. "You're so considerate of me." But there was just an echo of w ho he used to be. She saw through it now. "And you're so full of—"
Coach Ginyu blew his whistle hard to cut off her cursing and urge Yamcha back to practice with the rest of the team. With abrupt force, Bulma threw the dragon ball and clonked her ex-boyfriend good in the forehead. He struggled to catch the orange sphere in his hands.
Dumbfounded, the youth stared after Bulma who had long marched off. He watched as she disappeared through the parking lot, diminishing any chances of salvaging their relationship. It was clear she would remain firm on her decision. He dropped the dragon ball in his duffel bag and returned to his training.
Author's Note: Classic Bulma and Yamcha, always fighting! Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I think it's always fun to throw the characters into high school and see how it plays out.
Do you think Yamcha will find a way to win Bulma back?
Do you think Bulma will easily forgive him or move on?
What sort of action do you think Bulma will take to prove her point?
Let me know in a review.
