Alrighty, let's just get to it, shall we?

Disclaimer: Dragonball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, and Dragon Ball Super belong to Akira Toriyama, etc.

The torrential downpour soaked into her skin and chilled her to the bone as she trudged down the sidewalks littered with puddles; her clothes clung to her ivory figure like a second skin, slick with rain. Her blue eyes were downcast, almost lifeless, and her cerulean locks clung to the sides of her face and slim shoulders.

Bulma squeezed her eyes shut briefly when some water trickled down her forehead. Obviously, the meeting had not gone as planned in the slightest—in fact, it had gone adherently worse. The heiress couldn't comprehend why she couldn't convince her parents or the paranormal investigator to keep any ghost-hunting team away from her house, away from Vegeta. She'd handled far more pressing people when dealing with company matters, but nothing had involved ghosts. Perhaps, Bulma mused, she didn't know how to dissuade them without revealing how extensive her knowledge was about the phantoms infesting her house—and her strange relationship with one of them. Most people would say she was crazy if she said she was…making out with a ghost on a regular basis.

How am I gonna tell Vegeta then? The Shadow Children will surely become restless by now, intrusive presences in the house and all, and now even Vegeta may become agitated when that happens. I don't want the Shadow Children to become more active, but Mama and Papa… I don't want them to get hurt… Or even more concerned than they already are… Plus, I don't want them to be endangered by the Shadow Children. Ugh! What am I supposed to do!?

A car horn honked obnoxiously, penetrating her eardrums, and the blue-haired woman looked up sharply, startled. To her confusion, a vehicle rolled to a stop right next to her, rain drops pattering on its gray exterior, and she arched a thin, teal eyebrow, when the driver side window rolled down. "Bulma?"

"T-Tien!" Bulma exclaimed. "I didn't know it was you."

"I noticed," the man said. He then frowned. "No offense, but you look like a drowned rat. What are you doing walking out in this storm?"

"I forgot my purse…so I'm sorta capsule-less." A rumble of thunder made Bulma quickly glance up at the dark skies, streaks of lightning darting swiftly through the clouds. Her brow knitted in slight worry.

The bald man's sharp eyes saw the flicker of concern in her cerulean orbs, and, feeling sympathetic, offered politely, "Well, I can give you a ride back to your house if you would like. You'd still have a ways to walk, you know."

Of course, he was right—she was currently on Daikon Street, and she (and Vegeta, if she wanted to get technical) lived on Salad Boulevard on the other side of town. Bulma still didn't get Saiya's obsession with naming most things after vegetables, puns or otherwise. "If it's not too much trouble, I'll take you up on that offer." Tien nodded, and he unlocked the passenger for her.

After she had settled herself in and buckled, Tien put the car in drive and began to gradually speed off towards her home. "So, Tien, why are you out driving anyway?"

"Well, I was done doing my book route, and I got home…and Launch sneezed—"

"Ah."

"So, I went out to gets some groceries while she…cools off."

"Gotcha."

The drive was silent for a while, except for the sound of rain battering the windshield and the wipers squeaking as the wiped the water from the glass, and Bulma gazed at the passing blur of colors—lamplights, pastel awnings, green shrubs, and brick walkways melding together as they drove. Eventually, Tien piped up nonchalantly, "So, what were you doing out anyway?"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Oh, you haven't heard yet? I'm surprised. Talk spreads in this town like a disease."

The man was slightly taken back by the ire in the heiress's voice, but shook his head. "Pardon me, but I didn't want to sound like I was indulging myself in rumors…."

"No, I know—I'm sorry. Like I said…"

"'Like a disease'."

"Yup. But, if you must know, my family and I had to meet with Mrs. Chokorē."

"Why?" Tien inquired, frowning.

"Well, Yamcha," she bit out, clearly still irate at her ex's decision, "decided it was ideal to call her on the account of our house being haunted. So, my parents then decided to set up a meeting with her, we went, and now I'm gonna have an investigation team in my house and I don't want them to be in my house."

"Don't they need, well, everyone's consent?"

Bulma remained silent. "I guess. But, my parents are so frightened by whatever is in our house, and I don't want them to be scared…" She leaned her head back, frustrated. I don't want the Shadow Children to hurt them…

"Well, here's a suggestion," Tien said, turning, "if you're so adamant about them not investigating your house, just give them a boundary. Don't let them go into your room if that's the problem." Bulma nodded. "We're he—what the heck?"

"What? What is it?" Bulma asked.

Tien leaned forward a bit, and he squinted. "Why is Goku pacing on your front porch?" Bulma gasped, and she clumsily unbuckled herself so that she could view the scene, pitching her body forward with confusion. Sure enough, there was her childhood friend, pacing back and forth mindlessly—by the way he was shivering violently, he had been there for a while.

"What is he doing…?"

"I…I don't know…"

The two got out of the car once Tien had parked it and raced over to the Briefs residence, partly due to the rain beginning to pour again. Goku did not acknowledge his friends' presence, instead continuing his hurried pacing and frenzied muttering, his eyes wide and glassy, and this deeply concerned the two. "Goku? What are you doing?" Bulma called out, worrying shining in her voice.

The Son stopped abruptly in his tracks and whipped around, his disoriented gaze locking onto the blue heiress, and Bulma was taken back by the look—it wasn't Goku who was staring at her, but someone else. But that was impossible. Right? What's more, she only—it had to be in her head, surely!—saw the young man take a single step, and he was suddenly in front of her. Bulma yelped as she stumbled back, but Goku tersely grabbed her shoulders, uncharacteristically tight.

"Where's Vegeta?"

Bulma wondered how many more times she could be shocked in a single day. "Wh…What?" she said dumbly.

"Where. Is. He?" Goku repeated, his voice dark and threatening. The woman shrunk in her skin. Goku pacing in a mindless matter was one thing, but this—this definitely took the cake for out of character.

Tien managed to tear Bulma from the usually jovial man's grasp, pushing the latter back, and he growled. "What the hell is your problem, Goku?!"

Goku blinked rapidly. His glare was gradually diminishing, and as if someone had flipped a switch, the alien look in his eyes was gone. "Eh?" he grunted, looking around. "Where am I?"

Bulma and Tien stared at him incredulously.

His eyes then fell onto his two bemused companions. "Oh, hey, guys! Whatcha doing?" He shivered. "Boy, it's chilly…" He hugged his soaked jacket closer to his shivering form, a pouting look plastered onto his softened features. Then, he noticed something. "Oh…why'm I on your front porch, Bulma?"

Bulma and Tien then turned to look at each other, eyes as wide as saucers, mouths gaped slightly at such a bizarre scene. At first, the confused questions of the shivering young man were blocked out by their puzzlement, each exchanging silent questions with their eyes; however, a loud sneeze shook them from their stupor. Goku wiped his cherry nose with his arm, sniffling miserably. "Eugh…"

"Oh my god, Goku!" Bulma cried finally as she clasped onto her childhood friend's dampened shoulders. "You're gonna catch the death of you out here! C'mon, get inside."

"Yeah, I oughta call Chi-Chi…"

The blue heiress shifted her gaze to Tien, worry shaping her plush lips, and she asked, "Would you like to come in too, Tien?" He nodded in response, his expression mirroring the woman's. And so, Goku was ushered into the old house by his friends', the Son joking how his nose must be glowing—it was so red.

Bulma began preparing some hot tea for her sniffling friend, and she instructed Tien to go fetch a blanket from the closet down the hall. The bald man did so, sallying forth in quick strides to retrieve the woolen coverlet. The blue heiress shoved the Son man into a chair, ordered him to removed his jacket, and tossed him a towel to dry his hair. "Damn it, Goku!" the woman seethed, gripping her hips in frustration, worry, and anger as she glared at her childhood friend. "What the hell were you thinking?! Going out in this weather with just a windbreaker on—I thought you couldn't get any stupider, you dunce!"

Goku, continuing to ruffle his ebony locks with the towel, just chuckled. "Aw, c'mon, Bulma…it's just rain."

"Well, Mister 'It's just rain', I'll have you know that when rain is coupled with such cool temperatures, you could get—!" The shrill scream of the tea pout saved Goku from an endless berating of his eardrums. He sighed in relief the moment Bulma turned her back to him to shut off the stovetop and move the tea kettle.

Tien returned with the blanket, draping over his friend's shoulders, a frown plastered on his face. How odd, he thought, it was almost if someone was watching him back there…

Someone was, in fact, and he had a pair of dark eyes and flaming, obsidian mane. Vegeta, from his mirror domain, had faintly heard the muffled shouts of his mortal lover, scolding someone no doubt. A bit bemused by the fact she was back so early from her appointment, he emerged from the glass and silently trudged towards the door. Upon peering into the hallway, he froze when he saw a man rummaging through the closet. The ghost narrowed his eyes suspiciously when the man yanked a blanket from the closet and scurried back towards the kitchen.

What was going on?

And so, Vegeta followed this stranger to the kitchen and found Bulma—and—Kakarot. Vegeta's eyes widened. But, he said nothing.

"Now, Goku," Bulma started again, pouring him a cup, "feel like explaining why you decided to show up on my front porch?" Goku pulled the warmth of the blanket closer over his shoulders, shivering and sneezing and then sniffling, and he tilted his head in thought.

He pursed his lips. "Umm—boy, what was it?"

"You don't remember?!"

The black-haired man pulled the cup of tea towards him, sniffing the steaming brew. "Is this oolong tea?"

"GOKU!"

"Hey, hey, sorry!" Using his free hand, he waved it defensively in front of himself, sweat-dropping at his female friend's screech of frustration. "Honest, I don't remember comin' here at all! I just showed up, is all. Honest!"

The azure heiress crossed her arms beneath her breasts, pursing her lips. "It seems fishy." As much as she wanted to further question the jolly man's curious behavior—did he not remember asking her where Vegeta was in that threatening tone? Of course not, he would've apologize by now—Bulma knew that it would just be beating at a dead horse. Goku was notorious amongst his friends for his unexplainable spells of wisdom (although, this one was certainly new), as well as his forgetfulness. The heiress mused that that head injury might have caused these episodes, but she couldn't be sure—this wasn't in her field of study. Exhaling noisily, Bulma moved to grab a phone and dialed the Son residence. She heard it ring only once before it was immediately answered by the ebony housewife.

"Chi-Chi?"

"B-Bulma?" the woman squeaked, fear and worry dripping through her shaken voice.

"Look, Chi, Goku's here at my house—"

"He is?!" cried the mother, the shakiness swiftly jumping from her voice. "Give him the phone! Give him the phone!"

"Uh, right…"

Goku looked up at Bulma, slurping his tea loudly. "Eh? Is that Chi-Chi?"

She nodded and handed her cell to him, mentally preparing herself for the loud screeching that would surely sound from the phone. Goku, none the wiser, placed the cellphone to his ear and happily chirped, "Hey, Chi—!"

"SON GOKU!" came the shrill voice from the other end. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! YOU, JUST UP AND LEAVIN' THE HOUSE WITH NO EXPLANATION?! I SWEAR TO GOD THE MOMENT YOU SET FOOT BACK IN THIS HOUSE, I AM GONNA KNOCK YOU UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD THAT YOU'LL BE BLACKED OUT AGAIN—FOR A WEEK!"

Incredulous, Tien and Bulma shared a glance. Again?

Vegeta, meanwhile, cringed at the sound, but he resisted the urge to cover his ears and instead tightened his crossed arms, pressing them against his chest. For goodness sake, what was with Kakarot's new wife? It sounded like—

Oh, yeah, of course he'd find another woman whom resembled Milk. It'd only make sense—it would be familiar to him. Although this hurt his ears, he continued to observe and listen.

"Aw, c'mon, Chi, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened—"

"LIKE HELL YOU DON'T!"

"Um, could we talk about this at home?"

"Hmf! Fine!" Before Goku could ask for a ride from his wife, the woman hung up, undoubtedly upset.

"Umm, so," Goku started, laughing awkwardly as he looked to his friends, who had no doubt witnessed (and most definitely heard) the whole thing, "I need a ride home…?" He sneezed.

"I can, Goku," Tien offered. He adjusted his coat and got out his keys.

"Really? Awesome! Thanks, Tien!"

"No problem," the man said, nodding. Son ditched the blanket and the phone, throwing the cloth over the chair and the phone on the counter, and walked towards the door, a lightness in his steps, despite the impending scolding he would get from his wife—and the fact that he kept sniffling. Tien turned to Bulma, meeting her eye. "Later, Bulma."

"Yeah, bye, Bulma!" Goku called out loudly.

"See ya!" Bulma responded to Goku's call, but nodded to Tien. Nodding back, he then headed out with Goku, the latter piping up about how cold it was out. The blue woman shook her head, chuckling a bit. Her expression then fell, and her body leaned against the counter, her head slowly leaning back. Once her eyes were on the ceiling, her eyes fluttered shut, and Bulma listened silently to the rain battering the roof.

She felt large hands gingerly touch her sides, a pair of thumbs drawing circles on her ribs, and lips press against her exposed neck soon after. Bulma hummed with pleasure, letting her body shiver in response to the warm feeling coursing through her veins. She lifted her arms and snaked them around Vegeta's neck, and he fully wrapped his around her waist, continuing to plant soft kisses on her nape.

"Mm…"

"What was that about…?" the ghost whispered huskily, brushing his lips against her her, making her shudder again.

"I…" she breathed shakily. "I'm…I'm not sure…"

Vegeta leaned back to look at her, his brows knitting. "What?"

"He didn't remember why he came here," the woman explained. "But…he…"

"He what?"

"He was…looking for you." Bulma tried to gauge his reaction. When she got nothing, she proceeded, "His voice seemed off—and his eyes, you should have seen them! They look so…so different, I'm not sure how to describe it. It just…It just didn't look like his eyes. And, and he was demanding to find you—he seemed so threatening, like he didn't even know who I was…"

She was met with an unsettling silence, and the scientist grew more uncomfortable with each passing second. He was staring at her, or rather through her, and his eyes seemed impossibly blacker than they could be—the atmosphere grew colder. But, then…

"He was…looking for me…?" Her teeth gnawed gently on her lower lip, tasting cherry, and she nodded slowly. Many emotions seemed to be roiling inside his dark irises like thunder clouds, but his eyes squeezed shut tightly before she could pinpoint them all. Bulma was sure she had seen grief in those enthralling depths. "Oh…"

Bulma frowned, her eyes glistening with remorse, and she cupped his face, stroking his cheekbones. "W-Well," she relented. She paused to lick her lips, nervous. "I'm…I'm still not sure on this whole reincarnation thing, but Goku is Kakarot's descendent anyhow, maybe he's trying to find you through him? Like, maybe he possesses him in some way? That would explain why he has all those 'moments' of his…" She forced herself to smile. "Hey! Maybe if we showed him you, he'd be at peace! Then—"

"Bulma, you're the only one who can see me. If he could see me, he would've noticed me standing in this room."

"Yeah, but that was Goku, not Kakarot. Goku may not see you, but maybe—"

"If Kakarot and your 'Goku' kept passing on this metaphorical control baton, their energies would feel different, signaling each different entity within his body. The energy in that body is the same as Kakarot's throughout, even when he's 'Goku'. So, no, Kakarot cannot see me."

Bulma's eyes narrowed suddenly as she detected the obvious disdain in his gruff voice towards her friend's name—she could almost see the air quotes around 'Goku'. "…Why do you say his name like that?"

"What?"

"Why do say," Bulma said again, "'Goku' that way? With such disdain…"

Vegeta scoffed, his nose crinkling with disgust. "He'll never be Goku to me."

"Well," she shot back amidst her growing ire, "he'll never be Kakarot to me."

It got cold again, but, being the fiery genius she was, paid it no heed, even as she stared into those icy, chilling eyes that seemed to pierce into her soul. No, he did not like her words one bit—how dare she not accept her Goku was Kakarot and not the other way around. Before she could think or open her mouth again, her phantom lover released her abruptly, glaring coldly at the tiled flooring, before whipping around to storm out of the kitchen, leaving a freezing atmosphere in his wake.

"What?! So, you're just gonna walk away, huh!?" Bulma called out angrily. Of course, she let her frustration and big mouth take over her once again. "Vegeta, you can't keep living in the past for this! Whether you like it or not, he is Goku now, and he has a life here too! Why can't you realize that?!" She was met with mere silence, the iciest of its kind, and Vegeta disappeared down the hallway without a word. "Hmph! Fine! Be a drama queen!" She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, upturning her nose haughtily. "Keep living in the past like always…"

Bulma heard a ghastly groan, then a loud, shrill creak, and the kitchen lights flickered weakly, as if they were dying. She was instantly reminded of the incident in her bedroom. Goosebumps appeared over her arms as she stood there, motionless.

Scrambling out of the kitchen and to her bedroom, Bulma shrieked, "VEGETAAAAAAA!" and nearly plowed the poor apparition over when she latched onto his torso from behind. He squawked in surprise, struggling to keep his balance.

"Wh-What the hell, Woman—?!"

"VEGETA, IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN! THE LIGHTS!"

Vegeta raised his arm and twisted himself around to view the sporadic woman that clung to his like a leech, her face pale and her eyes squeezed shut in fright. At first, he arched an eyebrow, baffled by this woman for the ninth time. How could she go from accusing him to begging for his protection in a matter of minutes? …And why did he let it happen?!

Growling, he tried to pry her arms off of himself. "Why don't you go ask your precious Goku to help you?!"

Bulma's frazzled nerves suddenly disappeared at his statement and, slowly, she tilted her head back to stare at him straight in the eye. "Are…are you seriously doing that right now?"

Vegeta scoffed, glaring at her. "What? All I'm saying is that you should just go to your wonderful Goku—"

"Are you seriously playing the jealousy card right now?"

In response to her accusation, the phantom spluttered, "What?! Jealous?! What are you even suggesting—"

"Hey! I'm not stupid, mister!" The cerulean beauty released her hold on the ghost, her hands then immediately fastening themselves onto her hips. "I recognized that tone of voice! You think I didn't notice it whenever you talk about Yamcha and me?! It's the same tone now!"

"I am not jealous of him!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not!"

"YES, YOU—"

"Oh, Bulma, sweetie!"

The lover's quarrel was cut short by the bubbly intrusion that echoed throughout the house, the source they assumed was from the front door. Bulma clenched her jaw shut and ground her teeth harshly. Well, it seemed this little conversation would have to wait.

Not wanting to let him off scot-free, Bulma lifted a finger toward him, shaking it threateningly, "We are not done here, Vegeta Ouji, Jr., and don't you even think we are. Once I am done with my parents, we are going to continue this. Now," Bulma pointed at the bed, "you will lie down on this bed while I got talk to them without moving from this spot until I have returned, and if I find out that you have, or you have retreated into your little mirror hideout, I swear to God, I will not hesitate to strangle the living daylights out of your short, little body. Understand?"

Vegeta snorted in reply, surprisingly complying to her wishes. He laid himself on the bed, but huffily crossed his arms as he did so, glaring up at the ceiling. What a child…

"Bulma!"

"I'm coming!" she called back, strolling out.

She entered the kitchen to find her parents waiting for her. Her mother zipped over to her and cried out, "Oh, dahling! I was so worried that you wouldn't make it home without your capsules! And—oh mah goodness, you're dreadfully wet!" Bulma realized she was—oh, had she forgotten that. She sniffed back the urge to sneeze and patted her mother on the back. Dr. Briefs handed her her purse, the woman blushing in embarrassment when she met the man's stern gaze. Oh, dear.

However, Bulma noticed a—a young man standing beside, slightly behind, her old man, his hair neatly combed and caramel in color. He wore a pair of gray slacks and a black wind breaker, cover by a green raincoat. His brown eyes were almond shaped, and they held a kind warmth to them as they looked to her. He smiled a bit at her.

"Uh…who's this?" she asked, blinking.

Panchy released her daughter from her motherly hug and gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. "Oh, goodness! How rude of me!" Her bright smile then returned as she gestured to the boy. "Bulma, this is Caramella!"

Bulma arched a thin, blue brow. "Oh?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, Caramella Chokore." He shifted and reached out to shake Bulma's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bulma."

He looked as though he could've been a couple years younger than her—maybe the same age as Goku. Caramella still, indeed, seemed to have that teenaged youth look to his features, and yet, so did Goku, and seemingly Vegeta. She inwardly sighed—how lucky they were to still look so young. She shook his hand. "Ah, yes, the pleasure's all mine…" But, still, Chokore? He was related to Alma Chokore, no doubt, but how then?

"I can guess what you're wondering—yes, I'm Alma's son. Please excuse such a feminine-sounding name—she was so dead set on it, even when it turned out I was a boy!" he laughed. When his laughter died down, he then smiled sympathetically at Bulma. "I would also like to apologize on the behalf of my mother's behavior. She's a little headstrong—and I'll admit she doesn't do well with young, sprightly women, like yourself." Bulma felt like that was a compliment, but she said nothing. "I feel it had something to do with her grandmother—quite the capricious woman…"

"Miri?" Bulma blurted out before she could stop herself.

His narrow eyes widened in shock, bemused by her slipup. "Um… Yes, Miri." He pulled back, and looked and her quizzically. "I'm surprised—where did you hear of her? I mean, I'm aware your family only moved here 11 years ago, so I doubt you could've know about her."

Her parents gave her that same look. They didn't know about her either.

"Uh. Uh— I've—heard things, y'know…" Bulma explained lamely and awkwardly, and she mentally smacked herself upside the head. Great, Bulma, way to go. Genius of the year.

Caramella, as expected, didn't look convinced, but he seemed polite enough to let it slide. He cleared his throat. "Ah, I see. I get it—like I said…"

"'Capricious', right…" If only he knew…

"Right, rumors will spread, I'm sure. Anyway, I should tell you why I'm here, I suppose." The laughter returned to his voice, and the mirth returned to his eyes. Unlike his mother, he seemed genuinely kind. Bulma decided she liked him. "Dr. Briefs and Mrs. Briefs have already signed off on the investigation, and I all need is your signature to give my team and I the green light."

"You're going to investigate?" Bulma asked.

"That's right." Caramella nodded. "I understand that my mother was probably a little more than intrusive for this—I usually handle that, but unfortunately, I was out for the day—as evidence by my less than presentable attire." He chuckled. "I was just stopping by to drop something off when I ran into your parents. We introduced ourselves, and they explained the situation, so they were gracious enough to let me tag along to smooth things over." The boy smiled pleasantly. "So?"

Bulma frowned and looked away in thought. Caramella seemed nice enough, but, could she trust him? "I…"

"Look, if you're still uncomfortable with this, you can set boundaries for us," he explained calmly in understanding. "If there's a room you don't want us to investigate, say so, and we'll respect that."

That's right. Like Tien had suggested… "My room," Bulma stated. "My room is off limits."

Caramella's head bobbed in agreement. "Of course. So…" He removed the papers from his inner coat pocket and gave them to her. "Just sign on the last line, and the investigation will be held Thursday."

"Yeah…" Bulma rummaged for a pen in her purse, clicked it, and unsurely signed the papers. She hoped this was right…

Caramella received the papers after she had finished and thanked her. "Alright, everything will be in order by Thursday. I hope you all have a nice rest of the day, despite the weather."

"Yes, thank you, son," Dr. Briefs said, cheerily. "It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise, sir." And with that, Caramella left himself out.

Dr. Briefs turned to Bulma. "Now, sweetie, what was all that about back at—"

Bulma yawned loudly, interrupting her father. "Oh, gee!" she exclaimed. "I'm exhausted! I'm gonna go take a nap~!" She then skipped off merrily.

"…?"

Bulma, after she was out of sight, groaned loudly, slumping forward as she walked. "Oh, boy, how did I get myself into this mess…?" When she made it to her room, she gently closed the door behind her. When she turned around, she was surprised to find Vegeta still lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling—she mused she was counting the nicks and scratches, like he always did. She blinked. Bulma was sure he'd disobey. Sighing, Bulma trudged over to her wardrobe and picked out a pair of sweatpants and a spaghetti strap top, both a light powder pink. She then began to removed her socks after she placed her clothes on the chest nearby. Her clothes came next, stripping down to her underwear—she trusted Vegeta enough not to be a peeping tom. Her hunch was right, Vegeta immediately threw his arm over his eyes.

She finished changing into more comfortable wear, and Bulma hobbled over to the bed, sliding into the warmth of the covers, exhaling quietly. The heiress looked to her phantom, frowning, and spoke, "Vegeta…look, about earlier. …That was…rude of me. It wasn't right to say that, I'll admit. And I—"

"No, you're right…"

"Huh?" Bulma looked at him, flabbergasted.

Vegeta allowed his arm to slide off his face, his gaze returning to the ceiling, listless. "…E…Everything has changed so much—I can barely recognize or understand anything. I know you've explained a lot to me already, yet, I still can't…grasp it enough to make a difference." His Adam's apple bobbed when he paused, swallowing, and he continued, "My home…from what I remember, there's hardly anything left of it now—your family changed everything, tossed it away, stored it away… And from what I can tell, people have changed so much as well…

"But…" he whispered, his voice gradually quieting as he spoke, "But—Kakarot…" He swallowed again. "Kakarot—is…" He seemed to hesitate on the word, unsure of what tense he should to describe his old friend. "…was…my best friend—and to see…to see someone that looks, acts, and feels like him…" Vegeta's voice broke for a moment, so he paused, Bulma watching him with sympathy. He let out a hoarse chuckle. "Ha…I am living in the past. I just want something…anything that's the same—that's all I ask…"

Gingerly, Bulma slipped her fingers into his hand, interlocking the phalanges together, and she rested her head on his broad shoulder. "I know. I'm proud that you've managed to keep yourself together for this long… Like I said…I don't think I'll ever go through what you are going through, but…I'm for you, you know that right?"

"…Yeah…"

Bulma closed her eyes. "…Just as a heads up, a paranormal investigation team is coming on Thursday…"

"…You didn't deter them?"

"No, but," she said, "I said I don't want them in my room. As long as you stay in here, they won't find you."

"What happens if they try to anyway?"

"Then, I'll scare them off."

Vegeta gave a brief snort of laughter. "You? Scare them away? As if…"

"Hey, I can be pretty scary when I want to be!"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Vegeta's face, and he let his eyelids flutter shut. "Sure, Little One…"

"But, Rainy! There are two ways to pronounce caramel! What's the pronounciation of Caramella then?"

...Exactly.