Bulma stared groggily at the computer monitor, trying to make sense of the numbers and symbols blurring in and out of focus before her eyes. Today some bored nerd had thought it would be fun to hack into the Capsule Corporation network. That in itself wasn't usually a problem; somebody was always trying to hack in and gain access to plans and information about the Corporation's products, but they were stopped by a massive computer defense system—the majority of which Bulma had developed personally. It was foolproof.
Or so she thought until today.
Unfortunately, some idiot—who was now an unemployed idiot—had somehow concluded that he could improve upon Bulma's ingenious programming. The result was a complete system shutdown, giving free rein to whatever hackers happened to be around at 2:00 in the morning. Within a few minutes, thousands of blueprints, programs, and ideas had been stolen—the possible damage to the Corporation was inestimable.
Not to mention the auditory damage to the poor intern who had to wake up Bulma at 2:14 to alert her to the disaster…
But anger was always an incredible motivator for Bulma. Two hours after the break-in, she had one team of programmers already fixing the damage and another group tracing down the hacker. She wasn't about to let the intruding bastard get away with this blatant theft. No one—no one—could steal her brilliant ideas, her innovative concepts, her revolutionary revelations—and expect to live.
She would bust the hacker before the end of the day.
Although it already seemed like today was going to be a very, very long day.
Her back ached and her all her joints were stiff from sitting at her workstation for hours, but she was almost finished. She could almost feel the trap begin close around her prey. Only a few more lines of code, only a few more keystrokes before she could send the program on its mission of vengeance. There was no place in cyberspace for that hacking son-of-a-bitch to hide—she would find him. She was unstoppable. Her program would explode into his face—literally. The hacker would see a brief message telling him that Capsule Corporation regretted the incident and looked forward to seeing him in court—then his computer would be overloaded and burst into flames.
It was a program Vejita would like—if he were here to see it. The Saiyajin had completely left the planet to do whatever it was that he so desperately needed to do in outer space.
Maybe I should program the gravity room to self-destruct, Bulma thought spitefully. See how he likes that! She missed her husband much more than she liked to admit to anyone, even herself.
She shook herself and tried to concentrate on her work. If she could only keep her eyes focused on the screen…
Bulma gave up. She rolled back in her desk chair, stretched, and rubbed her eyes. She looked at the clock on the wall above her desk, squinting—it was 11:34. Her tired eyes widened in surprise; she'd been working for almost seven hours without a break. She wondered if her mother was taking care of Trunks, or if the "nanny-bot" she'd made was watching him.
I hope it's the bot. Mama can be so scatterbrained at times…
The door opened and Bulma swiveled around in her chair to see who it was. Speak of the devil, she thought with a faint grin as Mrs. Briefs came in carrying Trunks on her hip.
"Honey, are you still working?" Mrs. Briefs asked, mildly concerned. Bulma nodded tiredly.
"Trunks and I ate lunch together," Mrs. Briefs continued, swinging the baby around to face her. Trunks giggled and waved his hands, trying to grab at her blonde curls. "Didn't we have fun, Trunks? Papa was busy too, so we ate all alone! He's been working all day with the computers! I don't know what's gotten into him!"
Bulma sighed wearily and returned to her typing, tuning out her mother's high-pitched voice until it faded into a low droning in the background. She just had to finish up this last string of commands and then revenge would be hers.
Fear the Wrath of Bulma! She hit enter and sent the program on its merry path towards destruction. Take that, you bastard!
Now that victory was close, she could finally relax. "Let me see him," Bulma said, standing up stiffly to take Trunks into her arms. Mrs. Briefs relinquished her grandson, who gurgled and smiled. Bulma couldn't help but smile back. She held him close, bouncing him up and down. "Mommy's done working for today!" she told him. "Now she can play with you all afternoon, and then she'll take a nap when you take yours. And maybe she won't dream that your Daddy is home for once to take a nap with her…" She stopped, caught off guard by her own words. She suddenly hugged Trunks tightly as if he, the physical result of her bond to Vejita, could pass on the message to his distant father.
Trunks started getting fussy being cooped up in her arms, so she set him down to crawl around the carpet. He pulled at her shoelaces and tried to put them in his mouth. "He's such a good boy," Mrs. Briefs commented. Bulma arched an eyebrow as she stooped over to detach her son from her shoes. He grabbed hold of her shin and clung to her as she wandered back to her computer to check on the program's progress.
"He's going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up! Oh, his first girlfriend!" Mrs. Briefs practically squealed with delight and put her manicured hands to her face. "I'm going to be so jealous! I remember your first boyfriend, that wonderfully rugged Yamcha boy. He was so handsome! You were so embarrassed when I asked him if he was going to marry you!"
"Mama, please!" The computer beeped, signaling it had found the hacker. Trunks let go of her leg in order to investigate the source of that interesting sound. Bulma's eyes lit up with anticipation. In a few seconds—a minute at most—somebody would literally be feeling the heat and wishing he never heard of Capsule Corporation.
Her mother rambled on obliviously, "Oh, but I'm so glad he didn't marry you! Vejita is much better looking! And stronger! Trunks is going to be just as handsome and strong as his father, and as beautiful and smart as his mother! Ooh, what a wonderful grandson I have!"
Just then Trunks pulled out the plug of the computer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As much as she loved her son, Bulma could have committed infanticide at that moment.
But instead of killing anyone, she merely cursed and yelled and threw blunt objects at the wall. Her mom quickly carried Trunks to safety in his nursery and suggested Bulma go downstairs for a cup of coffee.
On her way down the hall, the doorbell chimed just as she was passing the front door. Bulma hesitated, momentarily considering whether she should let one of the house-bots answer it or open the door herself. Sighing, she mentally cursed the visitor that had come between her and her caffeine, and opened the door.
"What do you want?" she demanded, not caring who the visitor was.
"Hi, Bulma. Nice to see you, too."
She started at the familiar voice and actually looked at the man standing on her doorstep. He was short and wore khakis and a plain white shirt. He had uncombed black hair hanging into his eyes and a gruff beard like that of an island castaway, but the wide, emotional eyes hidden in his rough face gave away his identity.
"Hello, Kuririn!"
"Can I come in?"
"Sure." Bulma opened the door wider, and Kuririn picked up his suitcases. "Do you want some coffee?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kuririn sat on the couch, feeling the warmth of the coffee through the mug in his hands. He watched Bulma as she gulped down her third cup. She had changed her hairstyle again. Her blue hair was crimped into delicately frizzy waves that hovered just above her shoulders. Her face looked tired, her shoulders appeared stiff, and her baggy sweatsuit was rumpled. But when she plunked down her mug on the living room coffee table, she regained the lively spark he had come to expect from her.
"Kuririn, what happened to you?" she asked, gesturing at his head.
He shifted his coffee cup to one hand and ran the other through his hair embarrassedly. He knew she would ask; he had just hoped that she wouldn't. He hid his discomfort with a sheepish laugh. "Um, well, I kinda forgot to shave!" Best to make a joke out of it…
She laughed, then stood up and ran her own hand over his hair. He tried not to flinch away. "You look so different! And the beard! You look like a wild man!" She laughed again.
"Um…"
She fell back into the armchair across from him. "I know a great place that could fix up your new look. So how have you been?"
How have I been? I've been crazy with grief and loneliness, that's how I've been! I've been a "wild man" hiding from this sick world where best friends die and innocent girls are turned into machines…
"I'm alright," he answered. She looked at him with concern, and he shrunk under her gaze as if she could see through him. Maybe that's why he decided to come here—in the hopes that somebody could understand him and make his life make sense again; he sure didn't know how to figure himself out anymore. The world had tossed him upside down after Goku's death, and now he didn't know which way was up.
"I miss him, too," Bulma told him after a moment of silence.
Kuririn felt the blood leave his face and took a big draught from his coffee cup.
"I never thought he'd ever be gone, not really," she continued, leaning forward and clasping her hands beneath her chin. "Son Goku was always so full of energy, so full of joy at being alive—you wouldn't think someone so physical, so real could ever just…pass away." She picked up her empty coffee cup and turned it around in her hands absentmindedly. "The first time, after Radditsu, it was nothing like this. We knew he'd be back again. Son was the hero, the savior of the world—maybe that's when we began to take him for granted."
They sat together in a moment of silence, honoring their friend and hiding their shame.
"So why did you come here, Kuririn?" Bulma asked, bringing them back to the present. She put the cup back on the table and nodded at his two suitcases next to the sofa. "Planning for an extended visit? It's nice to see you again, though."
"I decided to leave Kame Island for a while," he explained. "I was hoping I could stay here until—until I can get a place of my own."
"Ah, you want a girlfriend in the big city, don't you?" she interrupted with a sudden grin. Kuririn blushed and shook his head vehemently. Bulma laughed and tossed a pillow at him. He caught it and conveniently hid his face behind it. "Sorry, I'm married! You can't have me!" Bulma said. "Although it's not like my husband is ever here. I might as well be single…"
He peered over the pillow. "Why? Where is Vejita?" He extended his senses delicately, but couldn't sense the Saiyajin's ki anywhere nearby.
Bulma's mouth twisted derisively as she spoke. "Ha! That man is never home! Whenever he has a problem, he leaves the planet!" Her voice rose as she continued, "Only a day after the Trunks from the future left, what do I hear? A huge boom, and Vejita takes off in a spaceship without so much as a goodbye to his beautiful wife. Hmph. Typical of him." She stood up without meeting Kuririn's eyes and picked up her cup again. "You want some more coffee?"
Kuririn looked at his mug and shook his head. Bulma left to go pour herself another cup. Kuririn sat back against the soft cushioning of the couch and let his eyes wander around the family room. Pictures hung on the walls: photos of Dr. Brief's many pets, some watercolor paintings of animals, and a portrait of the Briefs family when Bulma was young. Kuririn felt an unwarranted jealousy; he had no pictures of a happy childhood—no pictures of a happy family of his own either.
Then he heard Bulma scream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kuririn ran into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in the doorway. Bulma dropped to her knees next to the unconscious form Dr. Briefs sprawled on the tiled floor. "Papa! Oh my God! PAPA!"
Kuririn rushed to her side and asked, "What happened?" A little black cat was mewling pitifully by her father's shoulder and Bulma brushed it aside. She unbuttoned his collar, feeling for a pulse on his neck. She bent her head to check for sounds of breathing. She sighed deeply with relief, and explained, "He came in here, looking pale, and suddenly collapsed." She looked up. "Dammit, where the hell is the phone?!" Before Kuririn could offer to help, Bulma jumped up and slapped the intercom button on the wall and shouted, "CALL A DOCTOR NOW!" She immediately dropped back to the ground to her father.
Kuririn felt useless. He drifted back to the family room and picked up some pillows, thinking they could use them to prop up Dr. Briefs legs. Wasn't that what they were supposed to do with someone who had fainted? To help the blood flow to the brain? He carried them back to the kitchen only to find that Mrs. Briefs as well as a robot wearing a maid's outfit had joined Bulma. He stood in the door holding his stack of pillows, completely outside the sphere of the family.
Suddenly someone banged into his left shoulder and pushed past him into the kitchen; the doctor had arrived. Two paramedics followed right behind him and succeeded in knocking down two pillows. Kuririn stooped down to pick them up, then lingered for a moment, watching as the doctor's ministrations brought Dr. Briefs back to consciousness. The Briefs women breathed a collective sigh of relief. Bulma hugged her father, and Mrs. Briefs dabbed delicately at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Kuririn left the room to put the pillows back where they belonged.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three hours passed before anyone remembered Kuririn.
Bulma came into the living room and found him sitting in an armchair, his head hanging forward until his bearded chin touched his chest. She padded across the carpet and bent to peer at his face; he was asleep. She felt a brief pang of guilt for neglecting her friend—but guilt was never a feeling that bothered Bulma for long.
She grasped his shoulder. "Kuririn."
He moved his head and mumbled in his sleep. Bulma shook him gently. "Wake up, Kuririn!"
He blinked, then jerked up. "Wha—where—?" His eyes flicked about wildly, disoriented until they found and focused on Bulma. She hid a grin as he self-consciously wiped away a little drool from the corner of his mouth. "How's your dad?" he asked.
"Fine. He's resting in bed right now. The doctor said he was only hypoglycemic from skipping his meals today. We had to deal with a hacker and fix the entire computer system." She sighed and stretched her arms above her head. "It's been a long day, and it's still not over."
"I'm glad he's okay, though," Kuririn said and stood up.
"Yeah. He scared us for a moment back there." Papa is getting old—so is Mama—so am I. Oh, Vejita, where the hell are you? I'll be an old hag by the time you get back…
"Um," Kuririn said, interrupting her thoughts. She looked at him and he gestured helplessly at his suitcases. "Where should I put them?"
She raked a hand through her hair. "Oh, I forgot all about that! Between the intruder this morning and Papa's fainting—not to mention Trunks!—I've lost any rational thought I had left. Come with me, I'll show you the guest room upstairs."
Bulma picked up one suitcase, while Kuririn took the other, and they walked out of the room together.