Ch 11
Mom, how do I look? Bulma asked as she walked into the room.
Mrs. Briefs took her eyes from the television to look at her daughter, who was wearing some sort of costume. It appeared to be a kimono, dyed like a sunset with little flocks of birds embroidered upon it in black and wrapped up with an obi the color of the midnight sky. Her hair was piled on top of her head in an elaborate fashion, ornamented with lacquered combs. You look absolutely stunning, my darling, Mrs. Briefs commented breathlessly, actually surprised at how demure and elegant her usually vulgar daughter looked. She stole a glance over at Radditz, and could actually see the reflection of Bulma's fiery frame in his black eyes as he stared at her, his lips parting ever so slightly. Bulma didn't seem to notice how intently he was staring at her, which made Mrs. Briefs sigh. Neither one of them needed such difficulties in their young lives. Bulma turned around to model her outfit, which was complete down to the little buttoned socks, her smile radiant.
We have a party to go to tonight! Bulma said brightly, turning her eyes towards the door.
Radditz said from the bed, but was ignored by Bulma.
Yeah, it's some sorta costume deal, a male voice said from the hallway, and Mrs. Briefs smiled as Yamcha entered the room, dashingly dressed like a samurai. His hair was even pulled back into a ponytail, and he certainly looked the part as he sauntered in, swords at his side. He walked over behind Bulma and put his hands on her hips, pressing her against him tightly as he leaned over and bit her earlobe. Bulma giggled and turned around in his grip, and he slid his hands down to her rear, squeezing as he pressed his pelvis against hers. Mrs. Briefs lowered her eyes in embarrassment, peeking at Radditz and then staring at him as she watched his cheeks go red and his eyes flash in rage.
I think you two had better hurry along to your party. You both look very nice, she said, standing and ushering them out the door. She waited until their voices faded off down the hallway before turning to stare at Radditz. What's the matter? she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.
Radditz glared at her murderously. he said between clenched teeth.
Don't give me that garbage, Radditz, she snapped, pointing a finger at him. You tell me what's on your mind this instant.
Radditz looked at her with a sidelong scowl, but finally spoke. How long have they been mates? he asked gruffly.
Mrs. Briefs let her shoulders slump. Whew, it's been, I don't know...ten years? Fifteen? Somewhere in there, she replied.
And how many offspring? he said, clearing his throat and looking away as if embarrassed.
Mrs. Briefs sighed. None, honey. They're not married, and not for lack of Yamcha trying.
Radditz scowled. What's the difference?
She sat back down in the chair beside his bed and put a hand on his arm. Well, maybe I'm not clear on what you mean by mates. Here, when people mate, well, that only means sex. When they mate for life, that's marriage, and it's finalized with some paperwork and a ceremony. It means they're supposed to be together forever, and that's generally when they reproduce.
And that man wants to be her lifemate? Radditz asked, his face hardening.
Mrs. Briefs said with a sigh. But Bulma so far hasn't agreed, and I wish she would. She paused for a moment, glancing at Radditz out of the corner of her eye. She's never been with anyone else, so maybe she's just waiting for the next fellow to come along.
What is she looking for? Radditz wondered quietly, looking down at the bedspread.
Mrs. Briefs patted his arm tenderly. I'm not sure, dear. Yamcha loves her as much as anyone could. I only hope she knows what it is when she finds it.
Vegeta stumbled as he walked through the corridors of the palace, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he stretched a hand out to break his fall. Large hands reached out and grabbed him by the back of his clothes, hoisting him upright as an arm snaked under his shoulders. You look horrible, Zarbon said quietly as he adjusted the Prince's weight on his shoulders. Vegeta's eyes moved slowly to the amber gaze, blinking in surprise as he realized who was helping him.
Zarbon scowled as he noted the dark purple circles beneath Vegeta's eyes. How long has it been since you really slept? he asked with concern.
Vegeta curled his lip. What business is that of yours? he snarled, wrenching his arm out of Zarbon's grasp and standing on his own, although he remained wobbly. How dare you make me out to be a weakling in front of my new subjects!
Zarbon shook his head and held his hands out, ready to catch Vegeta in case he should topple again. I'm just concerned for my new lord, that's all, and I believe that all the rest of your subjects would be as well, he replied, turning and casting a meaningful look at Atlia, who was at the front of the entourage.
All of you, please go to your new stations. You will be called if needed, Atlia ordered, and the group of Arlian soldiers down the hall. He turned around and nodded to Zarbon and they continued to follow Vegeta as he walked down the hall.
Vegeta, you can't go on like this. You need a nice shower and a shave, then maybe a good meal and a nap. I don't think this whole empire business is going to be as easy as you imagine it to be, Zarbon said gently.
I don't care what you think, Vegeta snapped. Just get the hell away from me. I'll be fine.
Zarbon nodded to Atlia. This is your room, sir, Atlia said, opening the heavy door with a shove. Vegeta swept past him into the room, not even casting a glance in his direction. If you should need anything, just call.
Vegeta sighed. Very well, you are dismissed, he said, voice heavy.
Atlia bowed. If I may, sir, I'd like to thank you for freeing our people. I'm sure your grace intends to follow through on his end of the deal?
Vegeta waved a hand disinterestedly. Yes, yes. I don't have time for your sentiments. I expect you to be an effective governor, however. Do as your people see fit and just. All I ask is that you run certain things according to my plans.
Did you have anything particular in mind at the moment? Atlia asked gently.
Vegeta cocked his head in thought. Actually, now that you mention it, I would like you to mass produce those weapons of yours. Make hand-helds, like you have now, and see if you can have larger ones, perhaps even of a cannon type, manufactured as well. And see what you can do about space travel. In fact, post scouts immediately at even points all over the planet. Make sure they have excellent communication. I don't expect Freeza to lie low for too much longer, and I want to make sure his appearance doesn't come as a surprise, he ordered, and dismissed Atlia with a wave of his hand. The Arlian bowed deeply and retreated, closing the door behind him. Vegeta sighed and trudged over to the bed, sitting down heavily on the rich velvet coverlet.
You wouldn't think beings with exoskeletons would care about fine textures, Zarbon muttered, fingering the bedspread as he went to stand by Vegeta. Vegeta just grunted, but a faint smile touched his lips for an instant. Zarbon sighed and sat down by the Saiyan, putting his hands on his knees. Vegeta's wounds had stopped bleeding, but his entire body was crusted with blood, not to mention the damage he had sustained during their fight. What in the hell were you doing out there? Zarbon hissed suddenly, snapping his head around to look at Vegeta.
Vegeta stared back, the dark circles startling underneath his flashing eyes. I was conquering a planet, no thanks to you, he snapped.
Why didn't you tell me your plan? Zarbon said angrily. It could have saved us a ton of trouble!
You couldn't know about it. The last bit depended on your true decision to act. I couldn't afford to have you pull a ruse on me. As much as I hate to admit it, you're going to be extremely valuable in building my empire.
Empire? Vegeta, what in the hell are you talking about? Zarbon demanded, voice rising in pitch. You're not planning to do this again?
Vegeta nodded. Yes. I plan to do it again and again until I have an empire sizable enough to defeat Freeza's and be worthy of the name Saiyan.
Zarbon shrugged. I know I can't stop you. Hell, your actions today, although technically insane, were very effective. I can't help but admit to being curious as to what sort of ruler you'll turn out to be.
Then train me, Zarbon. You swore you were my man. You must train me until I can beat you even at your best, Vegeta said softly, squeezing his eyes shut as if by doing so he wouldn't have to witness the damaging of his pride.
Zarbon nodded, understanding Vegeta's sacrifice of pride and a little touched by it. Of course. But not until your better. Now level with me as to why you're in such bad shape.
Vegeta glared at the other alien, resenting his perceptiveness. But that perceptiveness was partially what had made him so invaluable to Freeza and would make him invaluable to the new Saiyan empire. I can't sleep. Radditz is still screaming inside my head. We have to get to him as soon as possible, but there are other things to be considered. For instance, we need to have a few more planets under our belt before we can be secure enough to head out. In order to do that we need space travel, a type of technology that the Arlians don't have. I don't know how we'll do it, but if it doesn't happen I won't survive, Vegeta said gruffly, and the image of the blue haired woman passed across his vision once again.
Zarbon stood. Well, as your primary aide it is my job to make sure you are cared for. I'll see what I can do in the way of encourage space travel research, and have a bath drawn up as well. You may be a prince, but you certainly don't smell like one, he said with a faint smile.
Shut up, Vegeta snapped. Remember, I could end your life at any time.
Zarbon sighed. Yes, sir, I know, he murmured. He went to the door and rested his hand on it for a moment before turning once more. You know, you looked exactly like your father today on the platform, complete with the red cape and beard, he said, and then left the room.
Vegeta stared after him, puzzled. Beard? He stood, careful to be sure of his balance before moving, and went over to a dressing table with a mirror. Bending over to see his reflection, he realized with shock that his face was covered with dark, thick hair, just like his father's had been at one point. It was eerie to see his face resemble his father's so much, and he stood up abruptly, running his fingers through the beard. Saiyan facial hair grew very slowly, if at all, he remembered as he searched through the table for something to shave with. It only served as a reminder that too much of his life had been wasted in the dungeon.
Bulma staggered into the house, giggling as she tried to escape Yamcha's grasp. Her hair was a little mussed and the collar of her kimono had been pulled a little to the side, exposing a bit of cleavage. Yamcha came barreling in behind her, lunging at her only to have her dart out of the way with a little gasp. His hand reached out and grabbed her obi as she ran, and her motion undid the elaborate knot and sent it rippling to the floor. She uttered a little shriek as the halves of the kimono parted, and Yamcha took advantage of her surprise to bound behind her and wrap her up in his arms. Bulma laughed and turned in his grip, eyes bright as she gazed upon his handsome face. Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth. He made a little sound of pleasure and bent a little so they could kiss more easily. His hands gripped her slender waist and pushed her away gently so that he held her at arm's length. Bulma, you look so gorgeous, he whispered.
Bulma laughed again. You're only saying that because you're stinking drunk, she said with a smile.
Yamcha blushed an nodded. Yeah, I'm pretty drunk, but not as much as you are! he chortled, giving her a gentle shake to the hips. But you know that I'd say it even if I wasn't drunk.
Bulma shrugged and leaned forward, putting her hands on his shoulders. Maybe. I just know that you're the most handsome thing I've ever seen in my entire life, she replied, lowering her eyelids.
Yamcha laughed. Now I know you're completely drunk! he said. But that's not my point. I want you to know that I love you more than anything. Do you know that?
Bulma wriggled out of his grasp and pressed herself closer. Of course I do, she murmured as she kissed his neck.
He smiled at her tenderly a moment before letting his expression turn wicked. he said, and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder, and walked with her up the stairs to her room.
The next morning she awoke in his arms, stretching against the length of him and sighing contentedly as she listened to the familiar sound of his snoring. Her motion woke him up as well, and he blinked a little in the morning light as he groaned. What are you doing? he moaned. It's early!
She turned to press her bare chest against his. I don't know. It's light outside and I'm up. And I'm not even hung over.
Yamcha squeezed her with one arm as he put his other hand over his eyes and rubbed, elbow sticking straight up into the air. Whew, me neither. Pretty amazing, considering that was one hell of a party, he said with a yawn.
Bulma laughed and pushed away from him, preparing to get out of bed. Yes, it was, wasn't it? she agreed with a sigh.
Yamcha reached out and snagged one of her wrists. Where do you think you're going? he asked with a grin. Stay here!
Bulma shook her head. I have work to do, she said. Just because it's a weekend doesn't mean that I don't have things that need to be done.
He frowned a little and pulled harder at her wrist. Lots of couples stay and cuddle in bed after they wake up, regardless of what the day demands, he protested. So come on, stay with me.
Bulma sighed. I can't, Yamcha. I have too much to get done.
Yamcha sat upright. Do you love me, Bulma? he blurted. Because you always have something to do when I want to just be with you. We've been together for over a decade, and you still won't let me get any closer.
Bulma tore her wrist from his hand. I'm busy, Yamcha. I help run one of the busiest and wealthiest companies in the world, and that sort of lifestyle isn't conducive to playing lovers 24-7. I have things to do, and you just have to understand that.
Yamcha ran his hands through his long hair. No, Bulma, I can't. I want to be a permanent part of your life. I don't want you to forget about me all the time, he said as she shook her head and stood from the bed. He rolled off the mattress himself and pulled on his boxer shorts as she slid into her own underwear. As she continued to dress he rifled through the pants of his costume until he found what he was looking for, then went over and gently seated her on the edge of the mattress despite her protests.
Yamcha, what are you doing? I'm going to be late! she said grumpily.
He shook his head, putting a hand on her knee. No, I think I've found a way for us to work this out. I'm always afraid of losing you, and yet I don't want to really take you away from your work. So please, hear me out? he pleaded.
she sighed, and planted her hands behind her on the bed.
Yamcha beamed as he sunk down on one knee before her. Bulma, I would like you to marry me, he said, and pulled out a little box, snapping it open and displaying the contents.
Bulma's eyes grew wide as she was confronted with the substantial diamond in front of her. Oh my god, she breathed, putting a hand to her chest. It's beautiful.
Yamcha's smile grew. I'm glad you like it. Now you know why I'm always broke. It took me years to buy this thing on the money I earn at tournaments. But Bulma, I love you more than anything, and I always will. If you're my wife it will be much easier to let you go in the mornings, because I know you'll come back to me at night. Please, Bulma, will you marry me?
Bulma merely looked at him. she replied. Most girls worry about the guys they invite over just calling them the next day, but I get a proposal.
Quit stalling, honey. I need to know your answer, Yamcha said urgently, fear beginning to creep into his eyes.
Bulma stared at him for long moments, not sure what to say. Yamcha, I can't, she said sadly when she spoke at last.
Yamcha looked as if she had slapped him. he replied, voice starting to tremble. But we're perfect for each other, we always have been.
Bulma reached out to touch his shoulder. I know, but we don't want the same things out of life. Maybe that's why we have so much fun together. I need to be with someone with a little different philosophy of life, that's all. It's nothing against you. I just want to continue having fun, like we've been doing. Why can't we keep it at that?
Yamcha sighed and hung his head. Because it's not enough for me. I miss you whenever I can't be with you, and I'm worried that when this horrid-sounding Vegeta guy shows up, something will happen and we won't be together ever again. If you're my wife I promise I'll make you happy. I'll do whatever you want, and all I need from you is to say you'll be with me together.
I'm sorry, Yamcha, I just can't, she replied quietly. If you can't handle that, then it's probably best we don't see each other any more.
Yamcha stood and placed the diamond ring on the bedside table. Then I guess this is goodbye, Bulma. Keep the ring in case you change your mind someday. You're the only woman I'll ever consider marrying. But don't be a stranger, alright? I'll always be there for whatever you need. I love you. He rushed to put on his pants and left the room carrying his socks and shirt. His footsteps receded down the hall, and after a while the sound of the front door shutting floated up to her ears.
Bulma hung her head. I'm so sorry, she whispered, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
But Mr. Piccolo, I don't want to learn how to fight, the little boy said, balling up a fist and rubbing his eye with it vigorously as he stared at the grass.
Piccolo scowled, the corner of his mouth parting in a snarl to reveal his pointed white teeth. Do you think this planet cares about what you want? he snapped, folding his arms across his chest. Remember your training so far. When you had to fend for yourself in the wild did nature care about what you wanted?
Gohan looked up at him, big dark eyes quivering with tears. No, I guess not, but why does that mean I have to fight with you? he pleaded in his small voice.
Piccolo's snarl increased. Because you've got more raw power than I've ever seen, and if I can't teach you to use it we both might die. Do you want to die, boy? Do you want your mother to die? he spat, glaring at the child. He hated children. Especially this whiny little runt, this mommy's boy.
No, I don't want anyone to die, Gohan replied sadly, rubbing his elbow with a grubby hand. But I don't know if I can protect them.
Piccolo sighed. Maybe what he was doing was wrong. Maybe the kid should be out in a field somewhere chasing butterflies or just playing, doing whatever it was that innocent children do. If I say you can then you can, Piccolo said gruffly. Are you telling me that you don't think my training will be good enough?
Gohan's eyes widened in shock. Oh, no, Mr. Piccolo! You're the best! I just don't think I'm strong enough, that's all, he said, voice trailing off as the end as he started to draw circles in the dirt with the toe of his boot.
You are. I know you are, and your father knows you are. Even if you don't think you are, you have to become it so that you can protect people when the time comes. Now listen here, if you need convincing, Piccolo said impatiently. The kid was bright, but stubbornly pacifist. Your uncle Radditz came to Earth to see why your father didn't destroy it. He was going to destroy it himself! And your uncle thinks that another Saiyan will come here to retrieve him, a Saiyan who's many, many times stronger than even Radditz. If you don't learn to protect him, who will?
Gohan stared at Piccolo in disbelief. Even stronger? he whimpered, then shook his head. Uncle Radditz didn't want to hurt me, though. He just wanted to get away, he reminded Piccolo shrewdly.
Piccolo growled. I know that, but who's to say that this next Saiyan will just pick Radditz up and leave? He might try to kill us all, and we have to wish your dad back far in advance, otherwise he won't be able to get back here in time if the Saiyan really does show up. After all, the planet that Radditz left is only a few weeks away from here. If your dad can't spend the entire year training, then you'll have to, won't you? he said, unable to believe that he was having to reason with a five-year-old. He reminded himself once again how intolerable children were.
I guess, Gohan said, one eyebrow lowered in disappointment. But you're the best person to train me, if I have to be trained, aren't you, Mr. Piccolo! he cried in excitement. Thank you so much! he said, and scurried over to give Piccolo's leg a gigantic hug. You're the best, Gohan sighed, and nuzzled his cheek against the soft cloth of Piccolo's pant leg.
Piccolo felt the blood rush to his cheeks and he looked about in embarrassment. Maybe the kid wasn't so bad, after all. Thanks, kid, Piccolo grumbled, and reached down to tousle Gohan's hair.
Vegeta lay in bed and closed his eyes, the skin on his body tight and raw after his bath. That damned Zarbon was turning out to be handy, Vegeta mused as he tried to force his muscles to relax. His new aide had made sure the bath was ready for him, the razor, soaps, and towels all laid out for him as he entered the large marble bathing chamber. Zarbon had stood there with a robe as Vegeta slipped out of his torn bodysuit, covering the Prince's nakedness immediately for the small distance from the antechamber to the tub. He had forgone his own grooming to stay and chat business with his new lord, a gesture that Vegeta was able to designate sufficient significance to, knowing as he did how strict Zarbon was about his personal cleanliness. Vegeta smirked to himself as he mulled over the fact that for him, and only for him, would Zarbon ignore the dust and blood that clung to his skin and attend to duty instead. Yes, he thought, the alien would be most useful in the implementation of his empire.
During the bath Zarbon had discussed with him various precautions that should be taken against Freeza. After all, who knew better than the two of them what to expect from their former employer? Between them they had devised a certain system of communication between the sentries. Vegeta smiled to himself in the darkness as he recalled their plans to thwart Freeza. Freeza was more likely to send scouts to find out what had happened. Frankly, Zarbon had expressed surprise that the scouts hadn't already arrived, but Vegeta had merely noted a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach and dismissed any misgivings. He had splashed idly in the warm water, feeling the liquid soak away some of his pains, as they decided that anything unusual should be reported to Vegeta himself, or at least Zarbon, before any action should be taken. Vegeta noted that the Arlians were incredibly stealthy, and Zarbon has concurred that the entire surveillance should be secretive after being splashed by a quick movement of Vegeta's tail.
Vegeta sighed. He hoped the scouts would come soon, bringing with them their pods, scouters, and armor. Then he would finally be able to escape this damn planet and put into motion the plans he had been concocting his entire life. He would show that fool Freeza what a mistake tampering with the Saiyans had been. He winced as his skin stretched uncomfortably over his snarl. He would repay Freeza for all the horror he had been put through as a child. He would kill the tyrant slowly, a single blow for every beating he had suffered, for every feeling of helplessness, for every Saiyan soul that had been wasted.