A/N: Okay, I am going to warn you all, I may not be able to update as frequently as I have been. The weather can mess with the internet signal sometimes u_u But, anyways, I have Chapter 4 for you all! :D Part of the library scene for me is still a bit...meh... but that might just be me. Hopefully, it makes sense...
anon - I'm glad you like my story :) As for the blood on the mirror, the reason why nobody's cleaned it off yet is because of the superstition. Everone thinks they'll get cursed if they touch anything in the house (not including our favorite blue-haired woman's family XD). Bulma hasn't because she can't bring herself to clean it because she feels that it'll help her unlock the mystery of it (one way or another XD).
Sim - It's good that you want more XD I usually don't like to keep everyone waiting 'cuz I know how it feels reading cliff-hangers XD The agony of waiting...
Guest - Thank you XD
Nova.81 - Good thing :D Yes, I thought that part was funny too XD
Cornichon92 - Thanks :) Here's more!
SaiyanPrincessBB - Indeed XD And thank you :)
NNP - Why, thank you! :D
peanutbuttergurl6 - *plays Ghost Busters song* She might... XD
The Tainted Heart of Vegeta - Yes, yes she did XD *hands you a tissue* If there was a Veggie in my bed, I don't know what I'd do XD
miikodesu - Oh, yes, she is strong :)
Onward to the story! With a librarian you never saw coming and surprise Vegeta POV (where, you'll have to read to find out XD)
Launch Shinhan was a very slender woman with dark blue, curly locks and big, innocent eyes that seemed to sparkle. She was kind and gentle to all those who set foot into the library—bratty or not. She would smile, greet the person like he or she was family, and point them in the direction they sought—whether it be the historical section, the children's book section, or the manga section (which was currently the most popular in the library check-outs). The kind librarian knew who came to the town library and who didn't.
So it was a shock to her when she saw a certain blue-haired woman march through the doors.
"Oh! Miss Bulma!" Launch exclaimed in surprise, setting down the library records. Someone had been neglecting to pay the fine for a lost book…
"Hey, Launch," Bulma greeted with a curt nod, waltzing up to her desk with her usual prideful amble.
"It's…been awhile since I've seen you in here…"
Bulma grunted disinterestedly, her studious orbs scanning the bookshelves.
The librarian blinked in confusion. "Um…may I…help you with something…?"
"Yeah," Bulma said. "Town History?"
"Oh!" Launch adjusted her chair so that it would face the desired course. She gestured to it and said it as if she had rehearsed the very line, "Right down there, next to the country history and world history. …What do you need it for anyway?" Her tone reverted back to normal, adopting a hint of curiosity.
"Research," was the simple answer. And with that, Bulma sauntered off. Launch blinked a couple times once more, and she then rested her elbow on her desk, her palm cradling her chin.
"Huh, wonder what she has to research about—"
She sneezed.
…
Bulma's shoes made soft "clicks" each time the connected with the hard, dusty floors, and they eventually stopped when she reached her destination. Bulma lightly trailed her dainty fingers over the dust-covered books—nobody had been to this part in awhile, randomly selecting one. She gingerly leafed her way through the book's yellowed pages, her eyes catching sight of bolded titles, such as: Town Festivals, Town Establishment, blah blah blah…
The pale-skinned beauty huffed—Nope, not this book—and inserted the book back into its designated spot, and she swiftly chose another. When she opened the leather-covered book, something on the title page caught her attention, screaming loudly at her.
Town Residence – Family Addresses.
Bulma's eyelids flickered, her interest flaring up—they really made books with people's addresses in it? And they put it in a library of all places? Weird…—and the heiress quickly checked the book's copyright date. Okay, so her family name wouldn't be in here.
Maybe his name's in here!
The list that was sprawled out before her on the parchment arranged the addresses in numerical order—or was it alphabetical?—with the family surnames following it.
I guess I just have to find my address—that's also his address…which is so totally weird…
And so, the heiress's cerulean eyes skimmed down the columns of addresses—she saw the Sons' address—but she didn't find her own.
Darn, why can't I—! Oh…there it is…
You can never find what you're looking for if you look too hard, her father had always said.
How true.
When Bulma studied the listing of those had once lived at her house, she found only one surname.
Ouji.
Ouji?
His last name was Ouji.
She checked the date. The Ouji family had lived there since the house had been built and then the end date was exactly 100 years ago. Something in Bulma's mind clicked at hearing "100 years" but it was discarded; thus, her mind began to piece other things together. The Ouji family was the only family that had resided in the old mansion besides Bulma's own—that sketchy real-estate agent had said that no one bought the house because it was expensive in its time, unaffordable…
But it didn't explain why the Oujis just left. Why did they?
Bulma figured his death was linked to it somehow—she just didn't know how. Consequently, her brain started to conjure up scenarios that could clarify the situation—the family had simply left in mourning when he died and they became bankrupt because of poor planning of an expensive funeral, or maybe they had moved out of the town to seek a better life, and he died after they settled somewhere else and his extremely annoying spirit had returned to his original home…
Nevertheless, none of these theories satisfied Bulma. In addition to the fact that she had no clue how he died, there could be no way the Oujis had gone bankrupt and left when he died—they had to be rich for living in such a house, maybe even millionaires of their time! And furthermore, even if they had left, surely for being such wealthy people, they would either donate or use their money for great advancements—whatever they may be—to make a headline of some sort…
But, Bulma had never heard of an Ouji family up until now…
Her brow furrowed in frustration. It didn't make any sense!
Maybe they had no descendants? Or maybe they didn't do anything memorable—or maybe—
Bulma released a small, aggravated growl and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her thoughts felt so jumbled and confused. This made her even more irritated. How could such a genius like herself, one who could pick out the smallest of details of piece them together and solve a complicated problem, be frazzled by such a simple matter? She supposed it didn't help that she had a ghost who didn't give her any tip-offs besides he had lived in her house once and had died (obviously) urging her to figure out the mystery of the house—what mystery anyways?
She now knew how detectives and mediums felt…
A blonde-haired woman walked past Bulma, carrying a stack of books and scowling. "Hey, Launch…" she acknowledged her lamely.
"Buzz off."
Bulma sweat-dropped and sighed. When Launch had passed, she slipped the book back into place and pulled out a red folder that contained newspaper articles.
This looks promising, she thought with a small grin, opening it carefully to reveal its contents. Bulma found an assortment of articles that ranged from old and new, separated by dividers marked with the years they hailed from. She smirked triumphantly and flipped to the divider that held the editorials of the year the Ouji house was, for lack of better word, abandoned. As she examined the clippings, Bulma saw that they seemed relatively normal…
Of course, this is a peaceful town, what did I expect?
Disappointed by her fruitless search, Bulma slapped the folder close and put it back, trudging back towards the librarian's desk.
Why and how she had forgotten about the murmurings of a certain murder that had happened nearly 100 years ago, one could only speculate…
…
"Launch."
A blonde woman had her feet up on the oak wood desk and she was leaned back in her chair, reading a magazine.
"Launch!"
Launch's eyes lazily drifted up to Bulma's person and then fell back to the shiny pages, grunting in acknowledgement.
"Okay…firstly, why is there a book with people's addresses in it?"
Launch turned a page in her magazine. "Donation from the mayor or something. It's outdated, so nobody cares…"
Helpful. "Alright then…secondly, do you have any books on the Ouji family?"
She nonchalantly flipped a page over. "Who?"
"The Ouji family! They used to live at my house!"
"Oh." Shwp. "…Nope."
"Wha…?!" exclaimed the heiress, dumbfounded by the bluntness.
"Some old geezer awhile back came in her and tore up everything to do with 'em. The old coot got arrested after—kept screaming 'bout 'CURSE! CURSE!' …Meh." She turned the page again. Shwp.
Bulma's left eye twitched uncontrollably. Just her luck… Some guy had beaten her too the punch. She growled in frustration, spun around, and stomped off angrily.
She heard a sneeze…
…Then a pitter-patter of feet.
"Bulma?"
Turning around fast, Bulma met eyes with a dark blue-haired lady. "Oh…Launch."
The librarian asked her sweetly with a soft smile, "Was there something you needed?" Bulma blinked. Hoping that she was just kidding around earlier, the lighter haired woman confidently brought up her question.
"You wouldn't happen to have anything on the Oujis, would you?"
Launch's smile turned into a frown, and she gently shook her head. She spoke sadly, "No, I'm sorry, I don't. A few years ago, an elderly man broke into the library and destroyed all of the information regarding them. Then, he got arrested after when people starting calling in for the disturbance. Poor thing…was maddened by something about a curse…" She sighed, as she glanced back at Bulma, she found the heiress fuming, her hands trembling with defeated rage. "Uh…Bulma…?"
With her face darkened with a deep scarlet, Bulma let out an extremely loud: "DANG IT!"
The scream was evidently met with a chorus of "Shhhhhh!".
…
A heavy slam of the front door echoed through the old mansion as Bulma entered, a vein visible on her forehead. Darn, darn, darn—
"Oh, Bulma, dear!"
Her head tilted up slightly to find her mother at the stove preparing supper. The delicious smells of the home cooking filled Bulma's nose and flirted with her senses, resulting in her mouth beginning to water. Ah…
"How was your day, sweetie?" Mrs. Briefs cooed in her high, bubbly voice.
"…Oh, y'know…normal." If you'd call meeting a freaking ghost man normal…
"Oh, good!" the blonde chirped. "Now, supper will be ready soon. Do ya want anything before hand, sweetie?"
"No thanks, Mom."
"Okay, sweetie!"
With a long sigh, Bulma headed tiredly towards her room, her feet dragging across the rug. She passed over the darkened spot (there had been many failed attempts to remove it) and reached her bedroom. When she opened the door, Bulma did not expect to see the phantom male propped up against the headboard of the bed, reading one of her books.
"H…Huh?"
He looked up at her, his onyx eyes flashing with mild surprise at her entrance. Then, he closed the book casually and set it down on the covers. "You're back later than usual," he commented flatly. She blinked, shocked, in response. Was he expecting her earlier?
"Yeah…so?" she challenged, flipping her blue tresses over her shoulder adamantly.
He simply rolled his dark eyes. "No need to be snippy about it."
"Well, if you're so intent on why I'm home 'later than usual', I was at the library trying to figure out your name, mister!"
The nameless spirit grunted indifferently, smoothing out his hair subconsciously. "Well?"
"Your last name is Ouji!" Bulma declared, sounding like it was a medal-worthy achievement.
"Correct," he smirked slyly because of her tone. "And?"
"…That's all I know…"
"Hm." His smirk grew, and he nonchalantly put his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. "I guess you'll have no choice but to call me Mister Ouji."
"Oh, heck, no! You're not my boss!"
"Well, you better hurry up with finding my name then, Woman."
"Bulma!"
He laughed—an arrogant, yet, surprisingly playful tone etching it. "I know."
Bulma growled; her annoyance fueled by lack of sleep—and coffee, was at its breaking point, but instead of exploding (and heaven knows she could), she took this moment to fully examine her ghostly (uninvited) houseguest.
Now that there were no nightly tones to mute out the colors, Bulma saw that his waistcoat was, indeed, a golden color—his pants a dark brown and his shirt a pristine white. His skin was a dark, healthy tan, appearing as though he had been sleeping out in the sun for days, and it also seemed that it was free of all blemishes of any sort. He had a strong, set jaw—it looked to be—with full lips below a straight nose. Thick, black eyebrows—from what Bulma had seen so far—were permanently furrowed, making him seem like he was…tense all the time (but, from experience, he really wasn't around her). His eyes were sharp, intelligent, and dark; and yet, they were not in the least bit lifeless, despite being dead. What intrigued Bulma the most was his hair. Aside from the extremely prominent widow's peak, his hair stood up like a charcoal flame, however, she didn't pick out anything that would suggest he used any hair products to make it stand as such.
He was…actually fairly handsome…
"Woman, you are staring."
Bulma blinked, snapping out of her trance. A smug, knowing grin was plastered on his sharp features, showing strikingly white teeth.
…Do ghosts brush their teeth?
She swallowed with difficulty and glared at him. "I…was not."
A deep chuckle followed. "If you find me attractive, Little One, you could have said something."
"Why you little—!"
"Bulma, dear! Supper's ready!"
The blue-haired beauty let out a puff of exasperated air and sent another annoyed glare his way. "Firstly," she bit out, "I do not find you attractive"—He snorted at this—"I just met you, for crying out loud! And secondly—"
"Bulma!"
She clenched her teeth as she pointed an accusing finger at him. "Get off of my bed!"
When she stormed out, his baritone laughter followed her; something bloomed in her stomach, but it was ignored.
…
During suppertime, the family lightly talked about the day. Dr. Briefs asked Bulma about the incidents at work, but she merely brushed if aside, saying that the employees were just exaggerating the subjects. He bought it, and then the lavender-haired scientist proceeded to talk about the dark rumors buzzing about Capsule Corporation lately about a murder.
Bulma's fork froze midway to her mouth.
"Yes, it's going about the whole town," Dr. Briefs remarked, his bushy mustache twitching as he talked. 'I've never seen so much talk since that big storm last week! The Wi-Fi is still down from that…"
"Oh, yah!"
Bulma remained perfectly silent, absorbing the words. That murder—how in the world did she forget about that?! That was another things she had to figure out!
"Oh, and earlier today," chimed in Mrs. Briefs, "Miss Harriet stopped me while I was on my way to the grocery store! She said that they're mad at me!" The curly-top sighed dramatically, "Oh, I guess they're all still upset about my absence from the meeting!"
Well, that wasn't suspicious at all.
Bulma nervously bit her lower lip, her eyes fixated on her plate. It seemed that the whole neighborhood was pinning their superstitions on her family…why? She suddenly straightened when she thought she heard a high-pitched giggle.
"Bulma, something wrong?"
Bulma looked to her father and shook her head. "Nothing, Daddy."
Taking her word for it, the doctor continued the conversation with his wife. Bulma quietly stood up, taking her plate and putting it in the dishwasher, and she silently left the kitchen for her bedroom.
…
Bulma took a quick shower and put on her usual pajamas, crawling into bed soon after, exhausted. So tired…
"Would you go away?" she groaned out loud, rolling over to face him. He blinked, his long lashes fluttering, and simply stared at her. Bulma sighed heavily, moving back to her original position, and tried to fall asleep.
It was kind of hard to with somebody staring at her back.
She angrily turned back over and glared at his semi-faded features. "Do you mind?!" He merely stared back at the woman. Suddenly, his lips pulled up into a smirk, and he sat up, getting out of bed. Bulma's mouth dropped open at his audacity to just lie in her bed and smirk about it when she railed on him for it! She practically snarled, and when she bolted into a sitting position, she chucked one of her pillows at him.
It went right through him and hit the wall.
He turned to face her, grinning teasingly, and said, "Nice try, Woman."
"BULMA! It's. BULMA!"
Laughing at her enraged state, he slipped into the mirror, his shoulders shaking as his laughter quieted to chuckles. Bulma growled, proceeding to slam her head into the remaining pillows.
The first chance I get, I am breaking that stupid mirror!
She wouldn't follow through with that plan, and she reluctantly knew it.
…
His chuckling ceased when he saw the young woman fall into peaceful slumber. His smirk slowly flattened out and changed into a soft frown, and he sighed softly, shaking his head. She was a strange woman…a spitfire.
Maybe that was why he found her so amusing…
He calmly made his way over to his usual resting spot, and he sunk down to the "ground", leaning up against the "wall" after.
The place in which he had been condemned to was a small chamber, which was made out of what he would consider deep, dark purple obsidian. At least, that's what it looked like… He was grateful for the fact that, although the room was small, it wasn't too small to make him feel claustrophobic. He supposed it was in between a medium and small size.
He idly looked back at the "door" to his—er, Bulma's bedroom. He had often wondered why he was so intrigued by the cerulean beauty—was it because she was intelligent and had a fierce temper?
She was unlike any other female he had met, he'd give her that.
He couldn't exactly explain why he hadn't opted to tell her his name—he had, instead, blatantly told her to figure it out, and in turn, discover the secrets of his—fine, her house. Maybe it was because he knew that she enjoyed such challenges, picking and searching for the clues to unravel the mystery…
Or maybe, it was because of this feeling that she would set him free if she could find it all on her own.
He sighed. As long as he kept the Shadow Children away from her, everything would be fine.
He hated Shadow Children.
And they hated him.
But, he knew full well they wouldn't mess with him.
He then closed his eyes too, thinking of those nasty creatures, and drifted off into a light sleep.
REVIEW PLEASES! XD