Bulma wiped up one of the last crumbs on the table. "Now, that's what a good person's kitchen should look like!" She smiled at the squeaky clean counter tops. "At least it will be clean until tomorrow." She laid down her sponge and stretched. "Ahhhh," she yawned, "time for some real R & R – sleep. It's been a busy day, and I have to be up really early tomorrow morning." She glanced at the clock. "8:30 – good. Just enough time to take a shower and get in bed." She moved toward the stairs as she heard the whoosh of the front door.
Yamcha stumbled inside with a quirky smile on his face. Upon seeing Bulma, it disappeared and was replaced with his famous 'puppy eyes.' "Aw… Bulma… I'm sooooo sorry!"
"Oh Yamcha, shut up!" Bulma looked away, but she had never successfully resisted 'the face;' she absolutely had to this time. She turned and walked up the stairs, trying to gather enough determination to remain angry at him. Yamcha quickly followed, snatching a rose from the nearby vase.
"Bulma, take this… you know that I care about you." Yamcha moved to kiss her lips, but Bulma quickly turned aside… the kiss landed on her cheek instead. A puzzled look washed over his face. Usually, this routine worked like a charm every time; he must have really messed up this time. "Think it over, love. Goodnight." Yamcha was surprised to see his blue-haired bunny stay stone cold. He shrugged and left for home – and rather quickly… he had spotted another pretty girl on the street.
"The scum… but… he tries to be so sweet…" Her eyebrows knitted up in confusion. She wasn't stupid. She turned and forcefully stuck the flower in it's previous position in the vase and haughtily turned to walk back up the stairs. She watched him walk outside from her bedroom window, and her lower lip began to tremble. The stress in her life had been building to a climax. It was hard to handle all of her mixed feelings herself. Normally, she would have Yamcha, but lately, he'd been weird and distant. He was making her miserable. She turned away from the window and glanced at the doorway – a fleeting shadow swiftly disappeared. Was that Vegeta? Did he see me cry! She slammed the door shut and threw herself onto her massive bed as sobs rocked her body. She was angry at the world… and angry at herself. She never had her rest and relaxation – she cried herself to sleep.
----------------------------------------
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. "Five months ago, I ruined the gravity room again… it's about time it was fixed." Vegeta prepared himself for his next workout. He would be the best, the strongest. I must be better than Kakarott. He glanced at his watch. 8 o'clock sharp – perfect. Ah ha! It's Tuesday. I better enter Capsule Corp from the front entrance today. Tuesday was Yamcha's "day" with his "favorite" girl… the girl changed weekly… sometimes daily. "Hmph. It would be a perfect day to show the woman his infidelity." He smirked at the horror that would be on Yamcha's face. "She's not ready yet – it would break her."
He turned the room onto 250 times normal gravity and began his routine. He started with his meditation and stretching, followed by his warm up. He performed his combination kicks with speed and accuracy; his footwork was improving drastically. He did his ply metrics with ease – his strength increase with every sit-up and push up. Vegeta began to wrap up his first training segment with standard evasive maneuvers.
He pushed himself until his body broke. He did this everyday to become stronger, to become the best. He neared the end of his training and paused to test his limits. He powered up; the tiles on the floor began to rise. However, suddenly it was like his face smacked a brick wall. Sure, he was stronger than the last time he trained, but he couldn't push himself any harder. He wasn't going to the next level – he couldn't reach the level of Super Saiyan no matter how hard he tried. That same confusion was clouding his mind – again – it had been bothering him for over five months. He halted his efforts and slammed the off button on the gravity machine, utterly exhausted and bewildered. "What's wrong with me!" He screamed at the wall. No matter how hard his tried to focus, a picture kept forming in his mind… the image of the woman with tears running down her beautiful face. Why am I… ! She's… intoxicating. I must… He stumbled out of the door, drunk and mad with his own confusion. He had to let go – to open up – to come to terms with what was going on inside of him. He took off into the endless blue sky, higher and higher until he pushed the limits of his lungs with barely breathable air. He hovered there for a moment that seemed to last for an eternity.
As he gazed at the sea of stars, many of which he had visited, and the sun of his former planet Vejitasei, every aspect of his being became excruciatingly clear. He used to be the rogue… the loner… the one that could do it all himself. But he changed, or rather found his 'missing piece.' He had to embrace this mindset or it would destroy him. It was her – the sapphire angel that was ever present in his dreams.
His torment had to be released; to face his fears would turn this haunting into satisfying destiny. Vegeta clenched his fists in determination and forced his burning lungs to expel a scream of released agony. He felt energy like never before gather inside him –his pulse skyrocketed. He let go. His feelings poured out in agonizing passion. I love her. His hair transformed into radiant gold. He had ascended.
-----------------------------------
Finally… back home after a grueling business conference. Bulma aimlessly gazed out at the tarmac as the 747 taxied into its position at the gate. She checked her purse. "Good I have my luggage!" She pulled out her small capsule, and smiled with satisfaction. "Ah, the perks of being the Capsule Corp CEO – I don't have any heavy baggage to carry, and it all fits in my purse!" She eagerly awaited permission to disembark from the jet and make her way home, but to her dismay, the crew had something else in mind.
A flight attendant's quivering voice cracked over the intercom. "Passengers, we request that you remain in your seat with your seat belts fastened. Please comply swiftly and without resistance. Do not panic…"
A muffled thump was heard and a male's voice with a Russian accent began to bark instructions. "Svease, svease, vremian calm. If your president complies vith our demands, voo have nofing to vorry about." A general shriek ran through the cabin as many women fainted and children cried. Bulma's eyes bulged and her skin turned pale. She sat down expressionless. It all made sense – she had taken an American flight home to Japan… This isn't happening to me… no! "I… I… oh no… what do I do!" She looked around at all the scared passengers. Time slowed down. All she could hear was her own heart beat. Her senses numbed. Terrorists have taken over the plane… The U.S. doesn't negotiate with terrorists, and they are half way around the world!
She was aware enough to notice one of the masked men make his way slowly down the aisle. He carried a powerful machine gun and was striking anyone who made any noise. He came closer… and closer… close enough that she could have reached out and touched him. He stopped next to her – everything in her body shut down. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her tongue. If I make any noise, he'll kill me! Oh Kami help me! Nothing happened. She peaked out to see where he had gone to – he was a few rows up.
Her breathing was hard to control… Bulma focused on not panicking. Someone would surely save them… they had to! She glanced over at the woman across the aisle and gave her a reassuring look, but something was wrong. The other lady was getting red in the face and tears became to form in her eyes. She's gonna break down! Bulma frantically shook her head from side to side and mouthed "No!" If she screams… she's down for! More tears streaked down her face… she groaned. She clutched her pillow and let it out – she screamed. It was the most terrifying scream Bulma had heard in her life.
The masked man turned decisively and stood in front of the screaming woman. "SHUT THE UP!" No response but screaming… "I'll kill you!" The poor lady wailed – her emotional stability was at an all-time low. The masked man waved his gun in the air and bellowed his very foreign voice. "All of voo – vatch carevully. This is vhat happens vhen voo disobey and disgrace our name. This is an example voo will never vorget." Bulma stared in horror – tears streamed down her face. Her lower lip trembled. She's gonna die! And he pulled the trigger.