7
From here on out, the bag stays with me. Vegeta thought as a car drove him, Bulma, and their Escort to the Train Station. One look at Bulma's face was all Vegeta needed to know that she had been crying, so he snatched the white and black handkerchief from Krillin's orange suit jacket and tossed it at her. "Here, Woman. There will be cameras at the Station and you don't want to look weak in front of the whole country, so you better clean your ugly face." Vegeta was hoping for a reaction and, oh boy, did he get one. It took everything Krillin had to stop Bulma from straight up attacking Vegeta. "Calm down, young lady. Once we're on the train you can have at him all you want but please play nice for the cameras. I'd rather not be the laughing stock who couldn't keep his Competitors from killing each other before the Games even started." The short bald man lamented as they arrived at the Train Station. "Fine." They both huffed, crossing their arms across their chests, and turned their heads away from each other.
They managed to get from the car to the train without an incident, which Krillin appreciated, but once the door closed, their battle began anew. Bulma screeched at Vegeta as he walked away, intending to look for his room. Unfortunately, Bulma didn't get the message and followed him into the room he had claimed as his for the rest of the trip. Vegeta dropped his bag and whorled around, pinning her to the closed door with his body, an arm on either side of her head. "Will you shut up for two seconds? I said that so you wouldn't appear too weak." "Weak to who? You? My parents?" Bulma shot back, still fuming about his 'ugly' commit. Leaning back, dark eyes locked onto blue ones as he spoke, his voice low, "To the Supporters. And our Competition." With that, he pushed off the door and smirked at his friend before pushing the button to open the door. Vegeta's laugh was rich and deep as Bulma glared up at him from the floor outside the door. "I thought you were a genius." He grinned as the door slide closed.
A few hours later, Vegeta ventured into the dinning cart looking for supper. He had spent his alone time seeing who the Competition was. Really the only two he was worried about were the cousins Zarbon Freriches and Dodoria Sardinha, the rest looked like they would be easy. Of course she'd be here. Vegeta sneered as he passed Bulma on his way to the buffet, piling a plate full of food. Just as Vegeta sat down with his plate, Piccolo stumbled in and snatched Vegeta's plate before the hungry teen could even take a bite. "Hey!" Vegeta growled, shooting out of his chair so fast it tumbled backwards. "Careful! This set if Mahoney!" Krillin cried but it fell on deaf ears as Vegeta was more focused on his food. Piccolo didn't care who's food it was, all he knew was that he was hungry and it was there, "You'll have to be faster than that if you want to eat in the Arena." Knowing that there was going to be a fight, Bulma spoke up, "Here Vegeta, I'm full anyway." She slide her half-eaten plate over, hoping that it would appease him; and it did. Roughly setting the chair upright, Vegeta sank into it as he began devouring the food.
"Just so you know Mr. Piccolo, it's not a good idea to get between this Saiyan and his food. You're lucky he's too hungry to fight right now." Bulma said, earning her a glare from Vegeta. Shaking her head at his stubbornness, she pressed on, "Since you won the 50th Games I assume that you're our Sensei, correct?" Piccolo nodded his head as he continued to stuff his face, "I am." The man reached into his pocket, pulled out a flask, and started to pour it into a cup of coffee. Vegeta had tried the dark drink before and found that he didn't care for the bitterness of it but Bulma liked it if he remembered correctly. As soon as the lid came off the flask the smell of alcohol hit Vegeta's nose, he hated drunks after one tried, unsuccessfully of course, to mess with Bulma a couple years ago.
Grabbing the hand holding the metal container, Vegeta squeezed hard as he bit out, "If you're going to be my Bulma's Sensei, you're going to do it sober or not at all." Simply smirking at the teen's audacity and possessiveness, Piccolo drawled, "Let go of my hand boy, before I knock you on your tail." Once Vegeta obeyed, he continued, "You don't give me orders, I give you orders. Because when you're in that Arena I might be the only person standing between you and death." "And just how can you do that if your drunk?" Bulma interjected. They had him cornered and they knew it, so Piccolo relented for now, "Ok. How about this? I won't drink as much and in return, you two follow my advice. Does that sound like a fair deal?" Bulma nodded. Vegeta grunted as he got up to get more food. If he gets drunk again I'm gonna punch him in his scruffy face.
The rest of the train ride was spent talking strategy, eating, sleeping, or in Vegeta's case training as much as the space in his room would allow him. As expected there was a throngs of people at the Capital Station hoping for a glimpse of the contestants before the Parade that evening. Bulma smiled and waved at the crowd, she understood how to connect with people better than Vegeta. And he knew it. So he simply stood beside her, looking like a surly bodyguard, That's it Bulma. Win them over. That way you'll survive.