Disclaimer: DB/Z/GT do not belong to me.
I'm not fluent in Japanese, for one thing -- wouldn't that prove to be rather
difficult?
Chapter Four: Confession
By the time they reached Kame House, most people were already there. Vegeta glanced around, hoping against hope that Kakarotto was . . . no, there he was, hastily devouring everything on the refreshment tables. Vegeta winced — he was hungry, but not enough to endure conversing with —
"Go on," Bulma shoved him lightly. "I know what you're thinking . . . just ignore Son-kun and get some food before he eats it all."
Vegeta decided to take her advice, and he walked over to the food table. "Hey, Vegeta," Kuririn greeted him, but the Saiyajin gave him a dirty look and moved on. "Whoa, okay . . ." the human muttered.
Kakarotto looked up from his plate, food all over his face. The sight almost made Vegeta lose his appetite. "Hi there, Vegeta!" Kakarotto called, somewhat indistinctly around the enormous mouthful of chicken he was consuming. "What's up?"
"Nothing concerning you," Vegeta replied curtly, piling up his own plate.
Kakarotto stopped eating for a second and eyed the bandages. "Don't go overboard . . . you don't wanna' hurt yourself again."
Vegeta's only response was a snarl. Unlike his lower-class associate, Vegeta didn't talk with his mouth full. "I'm fine," he shot back when he had swallowed. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Nothing ever is, is it?" Kakarotto pointed out. Vegeta couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. With Kakarotto, it was hard to tell. Kakarotto looked around quickly, and when he saw no one watching, wiped his mouth on the tablecloth. "If you're up to it, do you want to spar?"
Before Vegeta could reply, a warning voice came from behind Kakarotto. "Goku . . ."
Kakarotto's eyes widened, and he turned around slowly to come face-to-face with his mate. "Aw, ChiChi . . . just a little spar? Please?"
The dark-haired woman shook her head. "It's a party, you dunce! You can spar with Vegeta anytime. Now come on, let's go talk to people."
Kakarotto sighed. "Yes, dear," the woman grabbed his hand and pulled him away, and Kakarotto mouthed 'Sorry'.
Vegeta just shrugged and went back to his food. Kakarotto would probably escape his mate's clutches at some time during the night, and they could spar then.
He glanced around the island, watching as the pathetic Chikyuujin engaged in their own, petty conversations. Kakarotto and his wife were talking with Kuririn, Yamucha, Tenshinhan, and Chaozu were conversing amongst themselves . . . and Bulma, for whatever reason, was speaking to the old man Rôshi and his irritating talking pig. Vegeta watched with detached amusement as the lecherous animal attempted to pinch Bulma in the behind — and got splatted against the wall for his efforts. Rôshi hurriedly bade "good evening" to Bulma and rushed over to talk to someone of less volatile temperament. Bulma caught Vegeta's gaze and flashed him a victory sign with her fingers.
Vegeta's mouth twitched, and he turned away before he displayed any sign of approval. Just then his gaze fell on the Namekusejin and Kakarotto's brat, who were standing apart from the others under ChiChi's watchful stare, apparently discussing Gohan's studies. As soon as the woman's attentions were directed elsewhere, however, Piccolo punched the boy and sent him flying. Grinning widely, the brat scrambled to his feet and ran back, where he began a series of ineffectual punches and kicks. This discreet sparring, which paused whenever the boy's mother looked their way, almost made Vegeta smile before he caught himself. Half-human though he was, Kakarotto's whelp certainly had the Saiyajin fighting spirit.
Vegeta heard footsteps from behind him, and he sensed the woman's energy before she spoke to him. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Fun himself," Bulma chuckled to herself, and she came to stand beside him. "This happens every time we get together . . . you always stand away from everyone else and watch us. Doesn't that get boring after a while?"
"Not if there's food," he retorted.
Bulma sighed. "Yeah, that's right. I forgot about that . . . but it still seems pretty pointless to me."
"You're not me."
"Thank Kami-sama for that!"
By the time night had fallen, Master Rôshi's entire food supply — along with Bulma's patience — had been exhausted. The old man turned on the garden lights and put on music. "Time to get jiggy with it!" he yelled, and began cavorting around the island, performing "dance moves" that looked remarkably like the aerobics he watched every morning.
"This is so embarrassing," Bulma covered her face with her hand, but couldn't stop herself from giggling. Master Rôshi really was funny . . . he honestly didn't care if others thought he was ridiculous, even though they usually did.
ChiChi pulled Goku to the area of the lawn marked off as the dance floor, and Bulma watched as they began to dance. She hadn't realized that Goku knew anything about dancing, but it was obvious that ChiChi had taught him something. Master Rôshi was still "grooving away" by himself, and a laughing Kuririn and Tenshinhan went to join him.
Bulma walked over to Yamucha. "Hey," she smiled. "Wanna' dance?"
"Yeah, sure," he took her hand and they joined the others.
"How are you?" Bulma inquired. "I didn't want to ask with everyone else around."
Yamucha shrugged. "I'm surviving," he raised an eyebrow. "You want to talk about Vegeta?"
"O, him," Bulma's face reddened. "I'm still kinda' confused . . . I don't really know what I'm feeling. Sometimes I . . . O, I don't know!"
"Well . . ." Yamucha scratched his head. "What's he like?"
"Sometimes he's actually civil," Bulma told him. "Maybe you don't believe me, but he can be pretty nice to me," she sighed and glanced over at the Saiyajin Prince, who was watching everyone with distaste. "Like . . . the other day the two of us actually had a normal conversation, without any insults, or blowing up at each other . . ." a frown crossed her face. "But other time he's antagonistic and proud, and I can't say two words without him jumping down my throat!"
"Sounds to me like Vegeta's just as confused as you are," Yamucha observed.
Bulma brightened. "Really? You think so?"
"Yep, I do," Yamucha shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. "I never thought I'd see the day when I would help you get another boyfriend."
Bulma sighed. "I'm sorry it was my fault we broke up . . . I wish . . ."
He held up a hand. "Bulma . . . what's happened has happened, okay? I'm just glad we're still friends."
Bulma nodded. "Yeah, me too."
*
Vegeta made a face as he let his gaze wander over the crowd. Kakarotto and his mate were dancing slowly, the woman with her head on Kakarotto's chest and her eyes closed, and Kakarotto with a huge, goofy smile on his face, arms around ChiChi's waist. Vegeta grimaced. Shows of public affection were . . . well, strange. After his upbringing it was bizarre to see couples exhibiting any sign of closeness, even if it was as little as Kakarotto and his mate were displaying. Kakarotto said something that made ChiChi laugh, and the woman punched him lightly on the jaw. That's disgusting, Kakarotto . . . Vegeta thought.
The pesky warrior must have been using his telepathy technique, for he looked over at Vegeta and grinned. Heh . . . Kakarotto replied, Someday you'll see.
No matter how many you kill . . .
You'll feel the emptiness . . .
Vegeta scowled and turned away, but he could feel Kakarotto's laughter. Looking around, Vegeta saw Bulma and Yamucha dancing much like Kakarotto and his mate, only not as closely. For some reason the sight made Vegeta angry; more than anything he wanted to march over there and sock Yamucha, hard enough to send him through a few buildings.
Just then, Yamucha led Bulma over to him. "Uh, hey . . ." the human was extremely nervous. "I'm gettin' tired . . . you think you can take over, Vegeta?"
The Saiyajin's eyes widened, but before he could say anything Yamucha ran off to sit under a tree. Bulma cleared her throat apprehensively, and Vegeta just stared at her. "Now what?" he demanded.
Bulma shrugged. "I think you're supposed to dance with me . . . unless you're scared."
Vegeta's eyebrows skyrocketed. "Scared?"
"That's just what everybody's saying."
Kakarotto probably started that, darn him! Vegeta clenched his fists spasmodically, then grabbed Bulma's hand, though he had no clue what to do next. "Scared! I'll show them scared! The Prince of Saiyajins isn't afraid of anything."
Bulma had to suppress a grin of triumph. Yamucha was right . . . it worked! She took Vegeta's other hand and placed it on her waist, then instructed him to follow her lead. "This isn't so bad, is it?" she asked him a few minutes later, praying for a positive response.
"Nothing to be afraid of," Vegeta snorted. "Your friends are stupid."
Bulma said nothing after that for a while, instead delighting in the fact that neither of them were yelling at each other. Vegeta actually looked like he might almost be enjoying himself, which was yet another milestone . . .
*
"You okay, Yamucha?" Kuririn came to sit beside the scarred warrior, who was gazing out at Bulma and Vegeta.
Yamucha shook himself. "What? O, yeah . . . I guess so," he groaned and gestured at the couple. "They look like they belong together, don't they. Boy, does that make me jealous . . ."
Kuririn wasn't sure what to say to this one. "Look, I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Nah, I never really stood a chance as soon as Vegeta came along. But I don't hate him. I thought I would, but I guess I'm too happy that Bulma's found that 'special somebody' to want to ruin it just because I'm jealous," he shook his head. "Never thought I'd ever hear myself saying that."
Kuririn nodded sympathetically and punched Yamucha's shoulder. "Hey, I know how you feel. I had to give up Maron, remember?"
"O yeah," Yamucha winced. "Maron . . . I guess we're cursed, huh, Kuririn? Destined to be bachelors forever."
"Yup," Kuririn grimaced. "Us, and Master Rôshi . . . aw, man! Why do Saiyajins get all the luck?"
The two of them laughed for a minute until a deep voice cut through their conversation. "Why did you do it?"
"Huh?" Yamucha turned to see Piccolo, who was sitting beneath the next tree.
"I heard what you said to her earlier," the Namekusejin frowned. "She was your . . . girlfriend, but you're helping her get together with Vegeta. Why?"
"I dunno . . . I just know when I'm beat, I guess. I think Vegeta's better for her anyway."
Piccolo's eyebrow ridges rose. "Really. Vegeta may be stronger, but at least you don't have to turn sideways to fit your ego through the door."
Yamucha gestured helplessly. "I can't help it if you don't get it!"
"You're right. I don't."
Yamucha wracked his brains to come up with something with which Piccolo could identify, and finally he snapped his fingers in triumph. "Got it! It's like you and Gohan."
Piccolo looked down at the boy. It was past Gohan's bedtime, and the small boy had fallen asleep, his head on Piccolo's lap. "What about him?" there was something protective and suspicious about his tone.
"Well, I know how important the kid is to you," Yamucha explained. "Imagine that one day you realized you couldn't teach Gohan anything new . . . that he would end up going nowhere if he stayed with you. Now pretend you found someone who could do a lot more for Gohan than you ever could."
"Not likely," Piccolo snorted.
"Come on, work with me!" Yamucha rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying it's true for you, but it's the closest comparison I could think of. Now, if you found Gohan a better mentor, what would you do?"
The Namekusejin nodded slowly. "I see . . . I'd give him up, because that would be what's best for him," Piccolo ruffled Gohan's unruly hair, and the boy smiled in his sleep. "If that's what you're going through, then I give you my condolences."
Yamucha smiled shakily. "Thanks . . . let's just hope I've done the right thing."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Piccolo pointed out, leaning against the tree and closing his eyes. "Son's known Bulma longer than you have . . . if Vegeta makes one wrong move, I bet Son will pound him."
*
Vegeta hated to admit it, but dancing with Bulma was nowhere near as horrible as he'd anticipated it to be. Better still, no one laughed or pointed fingers at him, either . . . though Kakarotto had an irksome, knowing smile on his face, but Vegeta ignored him. It was strange — extremely strange — but somehow, walking around with this woman made him feel almost as good as when he was training.
"Aren't they pretty?" Bulma spoke up.
"Aren't what pretty?"
Bulma jerked her chin up toward the sky. "The stars . . . they're so beautiful! It's like seeing millions upon millions of fireflies, thrown up into the air . . . it's so peaceful. I've loved watching the stars, ever since I was a little girl."
Vegeta frowned. He'd never thought of the stars that way . . . "I've watched them since I was young as well, but not for their beauty. I thought of them as places to conquer, or worlds I had taken over or destroyed already. My father told me once that I would rule every star I could see."
"O," Bulma gave a little shrug. "So try looking at them just as a wonder of the galaxy. Aren't they the most beautiful things you've ever seen?"
Vegeta wasn't paying attention to the stars — he was looking at Bulma, who was staring up at the sky with rapt fascination. Her blue eyes sparkled with the reflections of the stars, and it was then that all the odd feelings that had been tugging at Vegeta suddenly fell into place. "Not really," he replied.
Aughh! was his instant thought, You weakling! Now what is the stupid woman going to think of you? You fool, what is wrong with you?
Bulma dropped her gaze, eyes boring into his. A slight flush colored her cheeks, and a small smile crossed her face. "Thanks," she said quietly, then without warning she let go of Vegeta's hands and slid her arms around his neck. Startled and unsure of what he was supposed to do, Vegeta, without thinking, glanced at Kakarotto questioningly.
The third-class Saiyajin smiled a little, and he indicated how he was dancing with ChiChi. Swallowing his pride at the look on Kakarotto's face, Vegeta imitated him and encircled Bulma's waist with his arms, inadvertently drawing her closer to him. Bulma rested her head on his wounded shoulder, and although it hurt, he didn't care in the least. For the first time in his life, the empty, gnawing space inside him had been filled.
"Vegeta?" Bulma's tone was at once nervous and hopeful.
"What?"
"What's happening?" Bulma sounded confused. "One day I was Yamucha's girlfriend . . . then all of a sudden . . ."
"I don't know," Vegeta replied, for once being completely honest without using any sarcasm. "But I know what you're talking about. It's like I finally . . ." he paused, knowing that if he continued, he risked laying his entire self out in the open; that he risked rejection and the loss of his pride. This, for some reason, he feared even more than death. ". . . arrghh, I don't know! I've never felt like this before. But . . . it has to do with you."
Bulma raised her head, her expression one of hardly-dared-for hope. "And you don't mind?"
Vegeta snorted. "Believe me, I've tried minding, and it didn't help. You're a virus, woman . . . you're everywhere, even inside my head. You just won't go away!"
She chuckled. "I know the feeling . . ." her mouth curved up in a crooked grin. "So now we both have a disease that is obviously contagious . . . what now?"
Vegeta couldn't help but grin back . . . and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her — or she was kissing him, or both. Not that it mattered. Fire seemed to race through his veins, igniting feelings within him that had remained dormant his entire warrior's life. He felt Bulma collapse a little as her knees buckled, and he pulled her even closer, supporting her. Funny, but now, everything his father had told him that day made perfect sense.
For the first time, Vegeta didn't care what race he was, what others would think, or who was watching. He was doing what he wanted, and to blazes with anyone who tried to make fun of him. But no one did.
It felt great.
"You lied," Vegeta declared a minute or so later. He hadn't wanted the moment to end, but his oxygen-starved lungs had disagreed.
Bulma obviously had no idea what he was talking about. "What? When?"
"In the hover jet you said you would laugh if I . . . well, you know," Vegeta lifted an eyebrow, and he pushed a strand of Bulma's hair behind her ear. "You aren't laughing."
Bulma stared at him for a few seconds, then she shook her head, holding back a grin. "You moron . . . shut up. Just shut up."
It was a while before either of them said anything again. In the background, Yamucha gave a sad smile.
******
Finally! They did it! This chapter was hard to write, because I was trying so hard to keep Vegeta in character. And it's my personal opinion that, with all his life battling, Vegeta would not learn how to dance, especially with women. Hence, asking 'Kakarotto' how to dance with Bulma (plus, that's kind of cute...). Only the Epilogue, then it's all over, folks. It's been fun! ^^
