It has been several years since I have been on this site, and so I cannot promise that I will make regular updates, or really any updates at all! I apologize. I was inspired to write this chapter after remembering this site and revisiting some of my older works. So I promise nothing, but I still hope this does not disappoint.
Bulma roused from her sleep feeling as though her head was stuffed with cotton. She placed a palm to her temple before glancing at the clock on her bedside table, realizing just why it was still so dark outside of her window: it was only five o'clock in the morning. After rolling her eyes upward to mitigate the effects of her stuffiness, she turned her attention to her right side and was immediately dismayed by what she didn't see. There were no signs of her husband, and on top of that, there weren't even any signs that her husband had been by her side at night, as could be told by the lack of creases and crinkles in the bed sheets.
She harrumphed before pulling herself upwards, only further bothering her headache-induced state. But before she could reach for the capsule of painkiller she always kept near her side, something slid off her, revealing the woman to only have a brassiere covering her chest. She curled her nose in distaste as she turned on the lamp and examined what had been on her, leading her to yelp in disgust immediately after identifying the artifact. It was Yajirobe's robe, of all things, and she slid out of the bed unable to imagine just how filthy the thing was.
"Gross," she murmured, leaving the thing on the bed as she paced towards her closet. She pulled on an inconspicuous night shirt, but not without examining her outfit. Her legs were outfitted with monochrome slacks of cheap polyester, and it took her a few glances in the mirror to remember exactly what had happened. She used a comb to begin taming her web of hair as she recalled Yajirobe intruding upon her while she had been changing, but nothing came to her memory after that. There had been a skirmish, though as worn as she was from adventuring with Gohan, it didn't take long for the samurai to overcome her.
She briefly wondered if the young man was fine despite his Super Saiyan capabilities. If he had been caught, then that would be her responsibility, she thought with her teeth gnawing her lower lip. But surely the boy would be smart enough to escape detection from a few half-wit guards. She had only been found in a moment of weakness, when she couldn't act due to her state of undress. Plus, despite her superhuman intelligence, she was only human physically - escaping wasn't so simple a feat for her. As long as Gohan didn't reveal his secret to somebody outside of the clan of Z Warriors, he should have fared well.
This made her wonder, however, just how Yajirobe had gotten past the demi-Saiyan when the man was supposed to be backing her up. Surely that idiot couldn't have fooled Gohan, unless the younger man was distracted by something more important. But what could be more important than the world's richest, most attractive woman? Whatever it was, it had to have been pretty frightening, bringing her to worry about him again.
But she quickly redirected her thoughts from the capable young man to the incapable samurai. Why had he targeted her? How had he even known her location? These questions forced her to furrow her brow, but as she glanced up in the mirror at herself, the wrinkles on her forehead brought a greater question to her mind. Was she really getting old?
Brief insecurity made the woman cross her arms defensively as she exited the closet, went through the bedroom, and made her way down a hallway. Her age would certainly explain why Vegeta never spent time with her anymore, and it would definitely explain both Gohan and Yajirobe's protests at her lack of modesty. If age was finally catching up with her, perhaps as punishment for her exorbitant lifestyle, then that could signal the end of her career. Besides her brains, what more did she really have to her than looks?
Her pathetic shuffling became more of a determined march as she heard sounds of the television resonating from the living room, and her hotheaded self grasped possession of her once more. Just as she expected, upon reaching the room's clearing, she saw her husband slumped back comfortably on the sofa in front of the early morning news program. His head was already turned in anticipation of her arrival, as he had heard her footsteps, and the expression on his face was just as obstinate as hers.
"Bulma," he addressed her, sneering with distaste when he saw the blood rush to her face. He pressed the mute button on the remote in his hand before dropping it to his side. "Did you get a good night's sleep? You certainly don't look it."
The malice smothered in his words brought her to curl her lip. "You're right. I didn't get a good night's sleep. I've kind of been having this nightmare that my husband's been trying to make my life as miserable as possible. Oh wait. That's not a nightmare." She placed her hands indignantly on her hips, matching his glare.
"Everything that happened yesterday was your own fault. You thought that you would like to play the sleuth, and it's only because of me that you escaped your own stupidity unscathed."
"My own stupidity?" she nearly shrieked, throwing her hands emphatically up into the air. "Last time I checked, you're the bozo who thought it would be a great idea to kidnap Earth's king!"
"I did no such thing," Vegeta spat, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa so as to get a better look at his distraught wife. "For a scientist, you don't seem to be very aware of the concept of having evidence to back your claims." Then, knowing that he could push her even further, he goaded, "Unless, of course, you did happen to find something that would incriminate me in your little scavenger hunt yesterday. Something which I highly doubt, given your ineptitude..."
The scientist bared her teeth, stepping forth offensively. "I'll have you know that I have plenty of evidence that would put you behind bars!"
"Oh yes? Then produce it for me."
The two stared one another down before Bulma barked, "You know that training coat you staggered in wearing yesterday morning? Well, I got Gohan to analyze it, and he's confirmed that it's Tien's. Furthermore, there's hair from a white cat that was on it - a white, outdoor cat, that is."
"Are you accusing me of petty theft or joining a humane society?" the Saiyan leered, unable to suppress a grin of victory. The woman looked taken aback, though she quickly recovered.
"I'm just stating facts that can't be disregarded, despite how miniscule they may seem. You haven't heard me out." After waiting for Vegeta's face to revert to its stoic default, she continued, "You were wearing that thing to hide the fact that you had been stabbed, as is proved by the blood stains in the fabric and by the scar on your abdomen you had tried hiding from me. The wound was too severe for a knife, and there's only one man who we know who wields a sword anymore: the same one who kidnapped me!"
"So what are you insinuating exactly? That simply because that buffoon, Yajirobe, happened to kidnap you automatically makes him a prime suspect in kidnapping the king? Even if that wasn't a logical fallacy, you would still have to explain why I would have the same motives as a man you claim attacked me. Assuming that Yajirobe did indeed kidnap that mutt, would that not make me seem more heroic, having sustained injuries by the kidnapper's hand?"
"Ugh! You're incorrigible, you know that?" Bulma walked up to him, blocking his view from the anchorman talking silently on the television. "If you haven't had any interaction with Yajirobe, then explain how I ended up here! The security in this place is tight enough where that loser wouldn't just be able to parade in like he owns the place! Somebody had to have let him in, or maybe somebody met him before that even became an issue."
"This 'loser', as you call him, did manage to break into the King's doghouse, which is not unimpressive with the heightened security after the dog's kidnapping."
"Please, comparing Capsule Corp.'s security to King Furry's is an insult. They refused to accept my plans for security due to expenses, yet they dish out millions on all of those guards annually! I've told them over and over again that robotic-based security is incomparable to the outdated security system they have now, but I think it has more to do with politics and precedents than actually getting the job accomplished!"
"And your point?" He arched an eyebrow, surprised by this tangent.
"My point is that Yajirobe could not have broken into Capsule Corp.!" Bulma seethed, clenching her fists by her sides. "I personally had a hand in this security's design!"
"Oh, just like how you had a hand in designing that plane you nearly crashed yesterday? You know, they could revoke your license, except you don't have one... That's a pretty big offense, or so I hear... And then there's that little matter of you trespassing on castle property..." He wrinkled his nose and smiled as though the idea had just come to him. "The way I see it, it seems that you're the one who will end up behind bars."
Bulma's blue eyes lit up with hatred for the man sitting casually in front of her. He was so relaxed, his lines coming as naturally as they would have had he rehearsed them a thousand times. His wife, on the other hand, was unable to speak. She resisted the urge to slap him, knowing that such an act would do more harm than good, and stalked out of the room.
After her abrupt departure, some feeling akin to guilt prodded Vegeta. He acknowledged that she was far from being an enemy, though that would be true only as long as she stayed a distance from this case. The scientist could easily jeopardize his mission if she continued putting herself in danger, and Kakarot's first unfortunate offspring was not helping matters. By bringing his overinflated ego, believing that he alone was intelligent enough to solve this case, Gohan was risking both his wife's career and her health. By some stroke of luck, Yajirobe managed to snatch her out from Gohan's grasp, which would hopefully dissuade the demi-Saiyan from inviting her back for a second round.
What baffled him most was why Bulma would continue with such a futile quest - the woman didn't even know what she was looking for, merely contenting herself with seeking 'evidence'. She believed it to be her civic responsibility to involve herself with this case because she suspected the kidnapper to be him, and she knew the police would never find the truth without first gaining knowledge of his extraordinary powers, which all of the fighters agreed to keep secret for the sake of privacy. And so she was burdening herself with a task that was impossible: proving him guilty.
He really should not have spited her in such a way, because knowing Bulma, he realized that this would only encourage her to continue her search. His suspicions were confirmed as he listened for her, pinpointing her location to the kitchen. There, she was having a very one-sided conversation over the telephone, exclaiming angrily, "Yes, I know it's still dark out, but trust me; we have to get moving! I don't care what your mother thinks, and I don't care about Goten peeing himself! Uh huh? Yeah? Well you know what, your dad's not the only crazy one! I happen to have a psychopathic, mass murderer sitting on my sofa and watching television who thinks he can get away with being a real jerk! And- no, don't interrupt me, young man! I'll have you know that I was abducted by Yajirobe, of all the slobs, and I don't intend to let him get away with it! And no, once again, I don't care that you have a couple of exams this week! This is the fate of the world, and I have to restore at least some of my dignity after that media appearance that you ruined! So come pick me up so that we can make a game plan! What!? You're hanging up? Gohan, wait-"
A huff of anger resounded as the woman slammed the phone down on what must have been the kitchen counter, and Vegeta could make out a breathing pattern that always marked the beginning of tears for her. Vegeta groaned and stared at the carpet, realizing that he may have pushed her too far. If he didn't talk to her, she would really take matters in her own hands, which he did not want. So he stood from his perch and proceeded to the kitchen, unsurprised to see her turn her puffy-lidded face away from him with pride.
"What do you want?" she snapped, unwilling to look at him and expose her vulnerability. She jerked away as he edged closer, and so he merely crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.
"To apologize," he confessed, and she whipped her face around to assess whether she had heard him correctly. Being greeted with no smirk or other sign of sarcasm, she determined the gesture to be genuine. That didn't prevent it from being suspicious, though.
"Why would you apologize to me? Are you looking to get me to confess to any other crimes I've committed?"
Vegeta narrowed his eyes but held back the nasty retort that first appeared in his mind. He quickly settled on saying, "No, though I must say that it is difficult to apologize to somebody as thick-skinned and foolish as yourself. Knowing that, you must accept my apology."
Bulma scoffed, "You call that an apology? Contrary to what you believe, I don't have to do anything you tell me, especially when you're insulting me!"
"On Planet Vegeta, it was considered a great honor to receive a royal apology in our High Court, regardless of whatever accurate observations the King may have made concerning the subject in question," the Saiyan remarked, careful to control his rage at her refusal to consider his offer.
"Newsflash, Prince of Denial! Planet Vegeta is long gone and so are its customs, and you'd better get used to that soon! Here on Earth, the king is gentle and polite, not an absolute tyrant who demeans his subjects by way of 'accurate observations'!"
"Despite your insistence, I will never abandon my culture. You have failed to impress me while attempting to integrate me into this subpar Earth culture. The planet would do better with more discipline, something that your dog of a leader never managed to entrench his subjects with. A class system would do much more nicely - it might teach you humans some respect for your superiors."
Bulma blinked, the puffy, pink quality of her eyelids having faded as anger once more replaced her despair. She reflected his stance by also crossing her arms and standing up. "You have got to be kidding me! You can't really be that dense, can you?" She moved closer to him, looking straight into his dark eyes with disbelief.
"You're the one who can't argue her way out of a paper bag. If you were really as intelligent and innovative as you claim to be, you would have realized my point long ago and already overturned this false monarchy! You certainly don't lack the resources to do so... So could that mean that you are merely scared? Or perhaps even... stupid?"
"Woah, woah, woah," Bulma snarled, and Vegeta immediately regretted taking such pleasure in riling her; this was counterproductive, as entertaining as it was. "Just because somebody doesn't agree with you doesn't make them scared or stupid, okay, genius?" She was standing directly in front of him at this point. "We all have freedoms on this planet, just like how you can make the choice to be a complete blockhead! Just because you were raised vaporizing any living thing that didn't look at you the right way doesn't mean that it's like that here!"
Vegeta bit his lip and grinned. "You know, you remind me a lot of my mother." Bulma's eyes widened upon hearing this comparison - along with it being completely random, she had never heard him talk about any family members of his aside from his father. "Beautiful enough to serve as a queen, but not intelligent enough to act as a ruler."
At this, Bulma left the room. Before the Saiyan could even pull the bacon out of the fridge to consume raw, he heard the front door slam closed.
He reconsidered his protests about her joining the fray, seeing as he doubted that she would actually be able to accomplish anything that might hinder his progress. By the sound of her phone call to Gohan, it seemed as though the boy had given up on her, which was reassuring. Without any other outside resources, she would be bound by the limits of her species, which could either save her or be her downfall.
This could certainly be fun, as long as he could rescue her before she got herself killed.