Dragon Ball: Makafushigi Adventure

By Reid M. Haynes

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball and all characters within are the property of Akira Toriyama, TOEI ANIMATION, and various other companies. I am using them without permission, and I am making no money off of them.

Legend:
( ) Denotes thoughts.

Tale 8: It Gets Tough, Part 1

*****

The early morning sun shone through the round, port-like window, imprinting it's shape on the bed sheets like a cookie cutter. This mark burned onto the sleeper's face, agitating her eyes and forcing her to rise, much to her displeasure.

"Mmmph," Bulma put her hand to her forehead, moaning groggily. The light had woken her much earlier than she was ready. Yup, Daylight-Savings Time sucked. Especially when you stayed up late.

(Funny. I don't remember ever going to bed)

Dragging her feet to the bathroom, Bulma grabbed the faucet knob, turning on a jet of water. Cupping the water in her palms, she threw it into her face in an effort to wake up. After that was done, she sputtered and coughed, rubbing her eyes to get all the drops out, wondering why she did something so stupid.

After a little while, she wandered out of her room, a little bit better for wear. Her slippers muffled her footsteps as she walked the ways to the breakfast area, ready for pancakes.

Rounding the corner, she arrived just in time to witness Yamcha, clothed in only a T-shirt and boxers. His wild hair formed a messy wreath around his forehead; a stray lock completely covered one of his eyes. But the eye that was visible was clouded and bloodshot.

When he was aware of Bulma's presence, he gave her a rough smile, without really seeing her. "Hey there," he chimed tiredly, then put his hand to his temple in a sudden burst of pain. "D-damn…"

"What's up?" she asked him casually.

"It's this stupid hangover," he complained, rubbing his hand through his bangs. "I swear, you have a couple dozen drinks, and the tide just rolls in."

"You said it," agreed a voice from inside the room. Bulma looked over and down to spy Puar, stumbling out the door lazily. His ears and forehead were covered by a large moon-covered stocking cap, almost as big as the cat himself. He would have looked very cute, expect for the fact that his eyes were just as dazed as his master's.

"Maybe you should cut down," Bulma advised the pair wisely.

"Abstinence?" Yamcha's eyebrows lifted. "Well..I guess. What do you think, Puar?"

"Worth a try," Puar mumbled. "I mean, it's works for Goku, doesn't it."

"Yeah, but Mr. Sports Drink's never touched a shot in his life." Yamcha snickered, and both of them started laughing hysterically, grasping their skulls in agony when their headaches kicked in again.

Bulma just nodded her head mechanically to this exchange, not really caring too much about the Bandits' drinking habits.

But when her ears picked up Goku's name, her eyes snapped open, and she was finally jolted wide-awake,

"Goku…" she mouthed silently. Last nights events hit her like a tsunami rush: the time they had spent together, the secrets she had shared with him, and the place where she must've fallen asleep. "Oh man…"

Bulma put her hand to her chest, only to find her heart was racing, beating a panicked rhythm of unknown emotion. Surprised at this, she put more pressure onto her ribcage, as if she could quell the violent pulse simply by force.

"Hellooo!" Bulma suddenly snapped up. Yamcha was making knocking motions with his knuckles. "Hey, anybody there?"

"Huh? Y-yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly, meeting his eyes in what she hoped was an alert manner. It didn't work.
"Whoa! Are you spaced out!" Yamcha exclaimed, cocking one eyebrow. "You okay? You're not sick or something, are you?"

"It's…just that I haven't had my coffee yet," she covered hesitantly, rubbing the back of her head.
Yamcha just stood there, not looking like he quite believed her. "Whatever," he shrugged. "At least let's get some
breakfast. C'mon, Puar." Motioning to his friend, he walked the rest of the ways through the hall, the cat-creature bounding after him.

Bulma let out a large sigh of relief, and followed the ex-Desert Bandits to the breakfast area. But this relief was to be short lived, for there was Goku, dressed still in his orange gi, still minus the outer vest. From his appearance, he had apparently slept on the field outside, evidenced by the small tuffs of grass hanging onto his washboard stomach, and by the way the dewdrops shone from his well-muscled arms, giving him the appearance of a wild nature god.

Then, Bulma's mind cleared up a bit, and found that her cheeks were burning with a hot flush. (I really don't need this.) With that realization, she shook off the jitters overtaking her body, and willed herself to look at the table again.

Goku, previously busy devouring his bowl of "Cookie Crisp," now looked up at Bulma. "Hey," he greeted, swallowing his last mouthful of his meal. "You're finally up."

"Huh-hi," Bulma said, looking down at the floor, hoping he wouldn't notice her blush. Luckily, he was busy licking the crumbs from his lips to pay close attention.

"It's a good thing, too," he said, placing the now-empty cereal box next to the other 56 "Cookie Crisp" containers he had engulfed this breakfast. "I was just about to tell Yamcha about what we found last night."

"Yeah," Yamcha nodded, as he poured himself a bowl of "Wheeties." "What were you saying? Something about pictures?"

"Yeah," Goku smiled, starting to get psyched up. "I was looking though the drawer, and I found this envelope, full of old pics when we were back on the hunt."

"Whoa!" Puar goggled, taking a bite of the one "Cookie Crisp" bowl he had managed to sneak away from Goku. "Were there any photos of me in it?"

"There were photos of everyone!" he answered sprightly. "You, Yamcha, Oolong and Bulma."

"That's so cool!" Puar cheered happily.

"Yup!" Goku nodded. Then, his eyes wandered to Puar's cereal bowl. "You gonna eat that?" he inquired innocently.

The shape-shifter's face fell. "No," he sighed, reluctantly pushing the bowl to the Saiyan, who proceeded to demolish it with ruthless enthusiasm.

"But where did you put them, Goku?" Yamcha asked.

"They should still be on the table," he replied, then got up from the table. I'll go get them…wait." Goku's hand wandered through his pockets. "I got one on me right now. It's of Bulma and me!"

Bulma's heart skipped a beat.

"It's right here," He said, then started to pull out a small Polaroid shot. "Here, let me show you…"

"No!" Bulma suddenly found that her hand had darted out, intercepting the photo before it was halfway out.

"Huh?" Goku went wide-eyed, staring at her. "Why not?"

"I…just don't want to see it now." Bulma stammered as she assessed her own actions. There really wasn't why logical reason why the photo shouldn't be shown to them. But that didn't matter. All she knew is that she didn't want to see that picture.

"But we just looked at it last night," Goku protested. "Why don't you want to see it?"

"Because I don't, okay!?" she snapped, her frustration quickly turning to anger.

"Hey, why are you getting all mad at Goku?" Yamcha spoke up, putting down his spoon. "Why are you acting like this? What's wrong with you?"

"I'M FINE!!!" Bulma suddenly snapped out, and Yamcha and Goku shrunk back in surprise, their eyes wide with shock.

"Look, stop with all these questions!" Bulma growled, rising up from the table quickly. "Just leave me alone, alright?" She stormed out of the room, nearly bumping into Trunks, who was leaning against the doorframe.
Goku sat there with a look of confusion on his face, ignoring his last bowl of cereal. "What did I do?"

*****

(I don't get it.) Goku walked down the hallway of the Capsule House, a large frown stretched onto his face. (We were getting along fine last night, and now this.) He jammed his hands into his pockets. (I'll never understand women…)

Truth be told, though, he wasn't really feeling all that great himself. He had spent that night outside on the moor, looking up at the stars and trying to sort out his feelings. Unsuccessful, he had woken up among the grass stems and decided to seek breakfast to cheer himself up. He was almost back to his usual good spirits to when that business with Bulma suddenly came out of the blue, bringing him back to his earlier dazed state.

(Best not to dwell on that now,) he thought, opening up the door to outside. (Gotta concentrate on Trunks.)

As he stepped out onto the plain, his mind flashed back to just after Bulma left. He was sitting in front of his cereal, which was already getting soggy, when Trunks had called his name.

"Goku," he had said, looking at him through the corner of his eye. "I need to speak with you. Right now."

"What about?" Goku responded. "Can't you say it right now?"

But Trunks ignored the comment as if it hadn't been spoken, and turned to the doorframe. "I'll be waiting out back," he said, motioning his thumb behind him. And then he was gone.

(Trunks' never this demanding unless it's urgent) Goku mussed as he rounded the curved building. (What could he want?)

These thoughts came to a close as Goku met his impromptu rendezvous. There was Trunks, leaned up against a hardwood tree. An apple bounded up and down from his hand, juggled by the whims of its careless puppeteer. Then, the puppet met it's end on its master's steel blade, split into two as the youth began the process anew with another.

"Hey, I'm here," Goku said as causally as he could. "What's up?"

Trunks acknowledged the other's presence with a nod, but kept up his nervous habit of cutting apples. His eyes remained trained on their task as they followed the motions of the cuts, taking in every slash of the sword, making each incision as perfect as it could be.

Goku just waited through all of this. He figured that whatever Trunks had to say was important, so he could stand a little procrastination. Still, the nervousness displayed was almost cause for alarm in itself.

(If he's that worried, then it must really be a problem.)

The shards of fruit finally ceased their fall as Trunks sheathed his sword. With a hard chink, he covered his blade to the hilt, and straightened up from his tree trunk post. Then, he finally turned to face Goku, and looked straight into his eyes.

"Before I make my request, you must promise me something," The pupils shone like tiny sapphires, locking onto his very soul. "You must promise to answer me as truthfully as you can. Even if you know it could be harmful, you tell me the truth anyway. Do you understand?"

The eyes never left his for a second, and Goku had no doubts of the seriousness of his statement. "I understand," Goku said quietly, meeting his gaze with equal intensity.

Trunks' face remained as stone could as ever, showing next to no regard that he had heard the pledge at all. But the eyes twinkled with understanding, and Goku knew that he understood.

They stood a moment more like this, silently waiting for Trunks to make his statement. Then, he did.

"Tell me about Bulma."

"What?" Goku's eyebrows widened.

"Tell me everything you feel about her. What she was to you in the past, what she is now, and what you hope for her to be. Tell me what you think of her, and what she means to you. All of it, as much as you can say."

"Trunks…" Goku started to say.

"Please Goku," Trunks interrupted, and for the first time, Goku saw the emotion leave his eyes. "I know this is difficult, and I'm truly sorry to have to ask like this. But I desperately need to know. I need to know what you think before it's too late. Tell me."

Goku took a step backward, completely dumbfounded at the boy's speech. Yes, he had known beforehand that there was something different going on, ever since the previous night. And yes, none of the statements were really shocking in of themselves.

But for Trunks to have said this, to be so serious about it, that was cause for alarm indeed.

So Goku decided that the only approach was to be honest. And say exactly what he felt.

"Well…" Goku said, putting his hand to his chin. "Bulma's kinda bossy sometimes. And she's real fussy about some stuff. Then again, she can be really fun to be around, and I like traveling with her, a lot. She really interests me and…and…"

Goku closed his eyes. "…Sometimes…every now and again…I feel…funny…when I'm around her. Like I'm nervous, but I don't want to leave. I don't want to do anything, except stay. I…"

"You love her," Trunks spoke the statement quietly, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Goku opened his eyes. "Is that what I'm feeling?" he asked him.

But Trunks only lowered his head, his bangs obscuring his eyes completely. He had no need to respond, because the truth had already been revealed.

(I'm in love with Bulma?) Goku's mind sprung with a multitude of thoughts. (I…I can't be! Then again, it does seem to make sense with the way I feel. But this is all so different …I don't know what to think.)

Trunks let out a small sigh, then looked up sadly at Goku. "Thank you for answering honestly," he told him softly. "Now my suspicions are complete."

"Suspicions?" Goku asked. "What are you…?"

"Do you want to know the real reason I went on this trip?"

The question had come completely out of the blue, and it stunned Goku. "What?" he asked.

"Do you want to know the real reason I went on this trip?" Trunks repeated in a clear tone of voice.

Goku hesitated a few moments more before finding his voice. "…Why?" he asked him slowly.

Trunks took a deep breath. "It all started when I had returned home from the battle with Cell. I was discussing my father, and the times I had spent with him. As usual, Mother retained her cynical disposition, going off on how stubborn and idiotic he could be."

"At first, I thought my mother was merely hiding her affections, as means of a defense mechanism against old wounds. But when the subject came onto you, I saw that that was not entirely the case. She would go and tell long stories about how brave and strong you were. And when I looked into her eyes," Trunks looked up. "They glowed with such a regretful longing that it was painful to look at. And at that moment, I knew that it was really you that held her thoughts in the past."

"She..." Goku gaped. "She loves…me?"

Trunks nodded. "Or at least had strong affection for you." Goku took in all of this with wide, fishlike eyes, and Trunks waited for him to fully absorb this revelation before he continued.

"Normally, if history was as it should be, this wouldn't be he come to this. In my world, you and my father are dead, so my mother's feelings remained pretty static for the both of you. But here," He looked at him. "You two are quite alive, and the potential for the feelings to grow is as strong as it could be."

"When I learned that her feelings might develop for you instead of my father, I took the time machine back to this era. To watch. To make sure that my suspicions were true. And hopefully," He took a breath. "To prevent any disasters from happening."

"What's going to happen?" Goku asked him.

"Look above you," Trunks said, and pointed towards the sky.

At first, Goku sense nothing out of the ordinary in the crisp blue heavens. But then, the familiar sting of raised ki stabbed into his mind. His ears picked up the vibrating pulse of circulating energy, fluctuating as wildly as the beat of Goku's pulse.

Then the clouds split apart, giving way for a golden comet of energy. And contained within that comet was the silhouette of a man, with hair like wildfire, features like granite, and eyes like Hell itself.

Vegeta.

"Wha…" Goku stared after the bolt of energy, following it all the way to its resting point: about ten meters from the Capsule House. "Trunks, what is Vegeta doing here? Trunks, what's going on?" For the first time in years, Goku was scared. He didn't know what was happening, and what he didn't know, he couldn't fight. And what he couldn't fight could fight him, only there wouldn't be much of a fight, only a defeat.

Trunks seamed not to hear Goku's questions, but instead turned from the Saiyan, facing the nearly woods. He took a few steps away from his tree-side post, placing himself a small distance from any immediate obstacles.
Then, with a glance over the shoulder, Trunks said his final piece: "Goku, get ready." With a burst of ghostly energy, he sprung from the grassy plain toward the forests.

Thus, Trunks was gone.

*****

Seated on a chair facing the meadow, Bulma viewed the outside world through the rounded window. Her hand propped up her cheekbone in a lazy, apathetic position, though she felt neither of these things at the moment. A cold cup of coffee chilled her palm with the frigid burn it had collected in the air-conditioned chamber, but she neglected this discomfort in favor of examining the world beyond the glass.

In particular she picked out the butterflies that hovered just above the lilies that sparsely adorned the plains. One would occasionally swoop onto a flower, stay as long as it pleased, then flutter off to another as soon as it was bored. An endless sort of lifestyle, to be sure, but the butterfly never seemed to care. Why should it care? It had no real reason to, in the end.

Then, one of the butterflies she has been watching more intently decided to rest on the curvature of the windowsill. Bulma stared at it. It stood so close that Bulma could've reach out and taken it into her grasp. It even seemed to be looking at her, as if wondering when her hand would wander beyond the glass and meet his.

But she couldn't.

With a few rapid flicks of its wings, the butterfly ended its brief visit, soaring off to greener pastures, disappearing from the narrow view of the window that had prevented her hand with its glass barrier. Bulma sighed, running a hand through her hair absentmindedly.

(It was just a stupid butterfly, anyway,) she told herself, more reflexively than out of any real need to make her believe herself.

She then decided to focus on the glass itself, rather then what lay beyond it. It was a simple thing, really, yet it succeeded keeping the outside world inches away from her fingertips, keeping her secure within the cabin. It was intangible, as well, and couldn't be seen at all unless you looked at it from the correct angle. When you did, however, the light would shine through every bit of the fluid, making it as solid an object as the material it trapped within the shelter.

But the most disturbing aspect of it was that it reflected the image of its captives. Bulma was looking as her pseudo-self with an interest normally unknown to her. Instead of admiring her own features like normal, she instead stared straight into the eyes. Still youthful, but clouded with memories that slowly aged them, eating away at their brightness and tinting it's hues to a dull, gray color. Like something was rotting away deep within her soul.
Bulma shook her head a couple times, shaking these disturbing thoughts back to her sub-conscious. With normal clarity, she looked back at the reflection, seeing only her face once more. Her face, the glass that reflected it, and the meadow beyond it. With a few blinks for good measure, she resumed looking out.

Only to find her attention slowly drifting to something else. Behind her reflection, inside the mirror world that it resided, was another figure. It shone with translucent gold light, which was slowly fading out into a pale, white shade. That light disappeared too, and the figure was revealed for what it was: a thirty-some year old man, folding his arms, looking very cross with her reflection, with her.

Bulma turned away from the window.

"You seem surprised to see me," Vegeta spoke quietly, but with a menace that made itself clear. "From your eyes, it's quite obvious you weren't expecting company."

She really wasn't expecting this at all, but she couldn't make herself be surprised. With the way things were going, this was a natural occurrence.

"Why would that be? Ah yes, I know," The Saiyan prince's voice was picking up in pace and pitch, letting more sarcasm seep into its grip. "You were too busy lollygaging with the third-class weakling to think about anything else!" Finally, his voice reached its full intensity, and he glared at his mate with an intensity that would melt mountains.

They never melted Bulma, though. She simply met him eye to eye, and mentally went into battle-mode. "So," she responded coldly. "Why do you care?"

"As if you didn't know." Vegeta's anger grew more ingrained with his posture, settling into a general aura of malice around him. "You deliberately ignored my order to stay away from those pathetic Earthlings. Instead, you willing took part in their idiotic games, enjoying all the ridiculous foolishness that makes me detest them so."

"Foolishness?" she challenged, stepping closer to her mate. "I was having fun, something I'm quite entitled to, in case you ever noticed."

"And to think," Vegeta ignored her comment as if it was never spoken. "of all of the people to waste your time with, you would choose that Kakarott! The brainless idiot who couldn't tie his shoe without thirty men to help him...!"

"Shut up!" Bulma had had enough, and formed her hands into angry fists. "His name is Goku, and he's a great man! He's saved this world many times, and always steps out of his way to help someone in need!" Bulma was shaking from the sheer amount of emotion coursing through her veins, and she found it difficult to keep her voice from vibrating.

But she didn't care anymore. She was tired of this Prince of all jerks insulting all her friends and telling her what to do like some damn slave overseer. So she went on, driven by her righteous anger. "You know Vegeta, if there's one thing I admire about Goku, it's that he always treats everyone with respect, something you've never done with anyone, least of all me. Why don't you lay off him?"

Vegeta waited a moment, assessing her statement. Then he narrowed his eyes, and his pupils started to flicker
dangerously. "If I didn't know better," he growled, the unnatural spark dancing in his eyes. "I'd think you have feelings for this moronic friend of yours."

"SO WHAT IF I DO!?" Bulma suddenly screamed, launching her face two inches from his. "Goku's TWICE the man YOU ARE! He..." She suddenly started gasping, the fierce shouting finally taking a toll on her lungs. When she had finally caught her breath, she looked into his eyes again…and was stunned at what she saw.

Vegeta's expression had changed drastically. The arrogant lines had vanished, and the strained mouth has relaxed, opening up into a gaping hole. Most of all, it was the eyes. Those shocked, scared eyes, speaking of disbelief and fear. All the emotions that he repressed, but were intrinsic of his nature, none the less.

"Bulma…" he said quietly, his tone a shadow of its former self. It was broken and distorted, like a child that had grown up too fast and too repressed.

"Vegeta, I…" Bulma slowly moved her hand, and touched his cheek softly. Her intent was unknown, even to her. Whether this was "I'm sorry," "I love you," or simply "Goodbye," she didn't know.
It didn't matter, anyway. Because, slowly, Vegeta's gaze was returning to its dark hue, and the facial muscles were tensed in anger.

No, this wasn't his former anger, Bulma realized. The anger that now dominated Vegeta's soul was almost overpowering. His mouth now revealed gnashed teeth that grated against each other, picking up pace by the second. The eyebrows were risen, still locked downward in hostility, but without a sense of control to them.

And the eyes were starting to shine with a strange and evil light.

Rage.

"No!" He wretched his face from her hand "I will not accept this! I WILL NOT!!!" In an instant, the gold locks of the Super Saiyan replaced his normal ebony spikes. Saffron flame involved him, burning so bright that Bulma had to step back to avoid being burned. As it was, the energy burned straight through the floor of the Capsule House, revealing the soft earth beneath.

Bulma had seen Vegeta like this only once in her life. That time was a dream she had while on planet Namek. In that dream, he had come to her, seeking the Dragon Ball stolen from him.
Seeking vengeance for his humiliation. Vengeance through death.

But Vegeta apparently had no interest in harming her. No, his hatred was directed at someone else, the cause of every one of his tortures right from the beginning. This person would meet Bulma's dreamland fate instead.

"I WILL NOT!" And then, Vegeta tore out the room in a blazing flash, tearing through the plastic-like walls like cheap paper machete, on am undeviating path with his eternal rival.
Bulma watched him go, her emotions frozen in stasis, the underlying dread slowly starting to creep in.

*****

It hit like at typhoon, really. The surroundings were perfectly placid, not showing a sign of any danger. Then, the sense of danger that accompanied any decent fighter suddenly klaxoned, accompanied by the now-familiar rush of Saiyan ki. The pebbles and stones immersed in the grass blades suddenly freed themselves and drew towards the vacuum that the surging energy had created. The hoarse grating sound of flying was becoming more and more defined, and the yellow light was just coming into view.

And then the gloved fist smashed into Goku's jaw, propelling him on a spiraling course to the ground. He hit the dirt just as the sickening crunch has finished resounding through the meadow and nearby valleys.

Goku worked his jaw around a bit, checking for any breaks. Finding no permanent damage, he craned his head towards his tormentor, finding it was indeed who he thought it was.

"Bastard…" Vegeta's voice was wrought with barely contained fury. "Third…class…BASTARD!!!" With a cry, he flung a boot straight into Goku's gut, knocking a large gust of air from his mouth. Then he did it again. And again.
With every sentence, Vegeta sent his foot into Goku, knocking more and more life from him. "You stole my conquest! You stole my destiny! And now, you're stealing my MATE!!!" Vegeta's final kick drove a cry of pain from his victim, along with a fair amount of blood and saliva.

Bending over, he ripped Goku upward by the shirt, forcing him to look Vegeta in the eye. "For everything you've done, you deserve no lesser punishment than death." He made an open-palm, as means of sending a bolt straight through his spine.

Instead, though, he let his grasp weaken, and the other Saiyan toppled to the ground in a heap. "But merely ended your life gives me no great satisfaction. No, Kakarott," For a brief moment, the old Vegeta was back, along with that ever-so-arrogant smirk. But it was the sickening shadow of him, the cruelty and evil more profound than ever before. "I want to break you. Destroy you in mind, body, and spirit, like you to me. Show you once and for all that I am truly the superior among us."

The Saiyan prince straightened up, looking down as Goku as he were nothing more than a roach to be squashed. "Tomorrow, Kakarott," he said. "One day after today, and we meet on this plain. You will show up here if you are truly a Saiyan."

Wiping the blood from his lips, Goku looked weakly at his adversary. "We…" he coughed, speaking for the first time since the attack. "We…are fighting for… Bulma?"

"Consider it that if you will," Vegeta turned his back to him. "But there will be no "win" for you. Rest assured; I will kill you."

The shorter man turned from Goku, charged up his ki, and tore off in a blast of light, leaving him battered and bruised in the meadow, butterflies dancing around him in a silent dance of mourning.

*****

Bulma sat in the same chair as she was before, regarding the large streak that had cut through her Capsule House. Vegeta had dug a canal in his earlier rush to get at Goku, which still stunk of smoke and ozone. Torn structure hung by slivers, adorning the tunnel of destruction.

The others were going crazy now, she knew. Yamcha had jumped into his fighting gi at a moment's notice, chasing after the mystery ki. Puar has followed him, ready to apply First-Aid and emergency surgery procedures. Oolong had followed predictable pattern, making for the nearest hiding place. As for Trunks, well, he simply seemed to drop off the face of the earth.

It was just as well, anyway. Bulma fought to keep the emotion locked within her. Now that she was alone, she could finally settle this matter with Goku. She would finally end this, end everything. So she waited,

Sure enough, mere moments later, Goku walked slowly into the room, passing right through the hole in the wall like it was just another doorframe. His jaw bore a fresh bruise, and a trickle of blood flowed from his mouth. His eyes were filled with confusion, taking in the blatant devastation slowly, They swept across the room, giving each piece of furniture a once-over before finally training on Bulma, locking her eyes with his.

Bulma regarded his disordered state for only a moment. "Vegeta, right?" She stated simply, the questioning tone of her voice only a mockery.

Goku nodded once, and she sighed, placing her hand on her forehead, feeling the panic pulse through her brain. She let out a tired breath of air, and looked up at him once again.

"We shouldn't have gone, Goku." she said sadly, meeting his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Goku asked.

"The Dragon Ball hunt, we should've just stayed home." She restated, the melancholia easing further into her tone.

Goku looked like he was about to say something, but opted to wait for Bulma instead.

"The trip made me think that I was still young, that I still had time to embrace freedom and adventure. But I'm not, and I can't." she clenched her fist in frustration. "I can't go and act like a kid when I have all these responsibilities. And I can't chase my feelings when I've already chosen who I'm going to be with…"

"You mean like love?" Suddenly Goku cut her off, and it was Bulma's turn to be wide eyed.

"Huh?" she said.

"Well, a little while ago, I started to have these weird feelings." Goku lowered his head to the floor. "I was getting' all nervous and junk, especially when I thought of you. Still, in a funny way, I liked the way I was feeling, so I wanted to hang out with you more and more."

"What…what are you saying…?" Her eyes were going wider by the second, and her heart threatening to break out of her chest. Her mouth hung open in disbelief as all of her hidden fears suddenly manifested themselves in this spike-haired man.

(No. This can't be happening…)

"Trunks and I were talking earlier," Goku continued on, ignoring Bulma's torment. "He was saying all this stuff about love, and how 'the feelings could grow.' He said a lot of stuff about you and me, too. It was all very strange, but, in it's own way, everything made sense. Because when I thought about it," His cheeks suddenly adopted a red hue. "I realized that's pretty much how I feel about you."

Goku nervously put his hand behind his head. "So…" he took a moment to gather up his words. "I guess you could say I lo…"

"No!" Bulma burst out, interrupting him. "You can't tell me this!"

"Bulma, what…" Goku appeared shocked by this, and eased his shoulders away from her. "I was just…"

"Shut up!" She snapped, rising from her seat. "You're with Chichi! I'm with Vegeta! Don't tell me you love me when it's already too late! Don't do that to me!" She crushed her hands into frusterated fists, fighting off the tears that were already stinging her eyes.

"But…" Goku lowered his head. "After all our adventures, I thought…that'd you'd feel the same way…"

"Yes! No! I don't know!" Bulma spit out several answers, each one contradicting the others, She was a hopeless mess, and had no idea what to say to Goku. Every wall that she had set up had crumbled down.

"It... doesn't matter anyway!" she finally got out through clenched teeth. "Once this trip ends, we're going our separate ways." She walked up to Goku, looking him straight in the eyes. "Don't you see?" she shouted out. "We're all grown up now! We can't waste our lives anymore on feelings that come out of the blue! Face reality, Goku! The adventure days are over!"

Goku said nothing for a moment. Then, with a quietness almost foreign to him, he asked her: "You don't want to travel with me anymore?"

Bulma didn't answer this, but only walked to the torn doorway, away from Goku. "The bottom line is that we live in two different worlds." Her voice was almost a whisper, and a trace of a sob lay just beyond her words. "And it's time we return to them, and leave our childhood times behind."

*****

And, just like that, Bulma was gone.

*****

Author's Notes: Part 2 will be coming momentarily.

Until next time, Ja ne! ^_^