Author's Note: Thanks to all the wonderful people who have been proofreading (ALEX!!! I owe you!) and offering me encouragement, especially all the nice people who left helpful reviews! The end of this chapter may seem like useless filler stuff, but trust me, it's there for a reason.
NOTICE: This chapter contains a scene with someone jumping from a skyscraper, the destruction of a downtown building, and the deaths of innocent people. This was written before September 11. This may seem in poor taste, so I apologize.
Something was falling from the sky. At first it was just a small speck, but the shape rapidly grew larger on its downward plunge. Someone looked up and uttered a cry of terror, prompting the other people on the street and sidewalks to glance upwards curiously and gasp in alarm.
A woman was falling from the sky.
The people who had noticed her jostled against each other, a disturbance in the normal flow of pedestrian traffic, and gaped at the falling woman with a mixture of fascination and horror. Some tried to push their way out of the crowd to avoid the gory mess that would certainly follow, while others fought for a clearer view of the woman and the place she would hit. "We've got a jumper!" a man called out, drawing even more people to the scene.
Juuhachigou saw the cluster of people gawking up at her and consciously slowed her descent. A collective gasp of surprise hissed through the crowd.
A second later, Juuhachigou landed lightly on her feet on the sidewalk. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, evaluating the circle of morbid spectators standing around her. She mentally dismissed them and began to walk down the sidewalk. The crowd automatically made way for her, then drew back together in her wake and trailed a few feet behind her, pointing and talking in hushed voices.
Juuhachigou stopped and turned around, fixing each of them with her cold blue eyes. "What?"
A businessman with brown hair spoke up nervously, "How did you do that?" Juuhachigou stared at him.
"I mean—you fell from—up there," he continued, pointing at the skyscraper Juuhachigou had jumped off only a moment before. "You—you're not hurt?"
The corner of her mouth turned up slightly as she replied, "No."
"So—you're like a stunt person?" the man asked hopefully. The others looked around for hidden movie cameras and muttered among themselves.
"Idiot." Juuhachigou closed her eyes as if the man's stupidity was painful to look at.
The man breathed a sigh of relief, taking her response as a sign that it was obvious she had to be a stuntwoman. The people around him nodded knowingly and began to leave, bored now that the show was over. "Oh, that's okay then! It was nice to meet you!" he added as he went on his way. Juuhachigou stood quietly as the movement of people around her returned to normal.
"Could please we have your autograph?"
Juuhachi's eyes snapped open. Two young women, a blonde and a brunette in matching blue business suits, were each offering her a pen and a little notepad. "We've never met a female stuntman before!" said the brunette. "Stuntwoman, you mean!" the blonde corrected, elbowing her companion. Eyebrows raised, Juuhachigou took the pen and paper from her, then hesitated; she didn't know what to write.
The women thought she had paused in order to think of an elaborate message to put on the autograph. "Oh, that's quite all right, just sign your name!" the blonde said with a smile.
Just sign my name?
The pen trembled in Juuhachi's hand.
I don't have a name!
The women waited expectantly.
All I have is—a number—Juuhachigou hastily scribbled "#18" on each notepad and returned the pen, then turned on her heel and walked away.
" 'Number 18'?" she heard one woman ask the other. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"
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Juuhachigou wandered through the city, simply following the will of the crowd without caring where she went, just observing everything and everyone around her. She had landed in the business district of the city, but as she walked on, the high office buildings and banks slowly gave way to huge department stores and little shops with noisy street-side cafes. There were also fewer businesspeople in this area; she no longer stood out in her casual clothing, and no witnesses of her spectacular arrival followed her anymore. No one paid her any attention; no one cared if she didn't have a name, or a past, or a completely human body—she was just another face in the crowd. She was no longer alone; the noise, the people, the entire city comforted her.
As she wandered, Juuhachi's eyes roved over the window displays of the stores she passed; each store proudly touted its fashions as the latest must-have trend. After a while, though, they all seemed to blur together into a bright rainbow of fabric, the same clothes repeated over and over, differing only in color.
Suddenly she came to stop in front of a place called Schinky's Boutique; there, in the window stood a fashion dummy wearing a black miniskirt and a blue tank top with a sheer blouse over it. Juuhachigou suddenly wanted that outfit. Following the impulse, she pushed open the door and stepped into the cool interior, breathing in the faint smell of leather and polyester. Soft piano music played throughout the store. A few other shoppers were browsing through the clothes and ignored her completely. Juuhachi smiled slightly; she was beginning to enjoy this freedom of anonymity.
"Good afternoon. How may I help you, ma'am?" A saleslady with tightly braided green hair approached her. She wore huge gold earrings that dangled to her shoulders, and she kept touching them as if to make sure they wouldn't get caught on her shirt and rip her ears off.
"I want that outfit." Juuhachi pointed at the dummy in the window.
The saleslady sized up Juuhachi with practiced eyes, nodded, and said, "I'm sure a size 8 will fit perfectly. Follow me, ma'am."
The lady led her through a maze of clothing racks, snatching up hangers here and there. Finally they reached the dressing room, and the saleslady handed her an armful of clothes. "I'll be right outside if you need any assistance," she said, but ran off to find another customer as soon as Juuhachi went in.
Juuhachigou hung up the various hangers on a hook inside the dressing room. The piano music was louder in here than in the rest of the store. Juuhachi listened to it for a moment, feeling slightly relieved; the dreaded silence couldn't follow her here.
She undressed and changed into the new outfit without glancing in the mirror. Tugging the hem of the skirt a little, Juuhachi looked down at herself. The skirt was snug, but comfortable, and the shirt and blouse fit nicely. She finally hazarded a peek at the mirror; the saleslady had been right, a size 8 did fit her well. A smile flitted across her lips.
Juuhachi put on her old cowboy boots and tucked her other clothes under her arm. She walked out of the dressing room in her new outfit, feeling pleased. As she headed for the door, however, an alarm went off and two salespeople—the green-haired woman and a tall, skinny man—rushed over. Some curious shoppers looked over to see what the fuss was about.
"Where do you think you're going?!" shouted the man, whose nametag made him the store's manager.
"Out," replied Juuhachi. Someone turned off the alarm, and the piano music came back on, but by now the entire store was staring at the three people by the entrance.
"You need to pay for those clothes first, ma'am," explained the saleslady.
"No." She felt dozens of pairs of eyes on her and heard whispers branding her a shoplifter, a criminal, a crazy woman, a psycho.
The saleslady played nervously with an earring. "We can't let you do that, ma'am. We'll have to call the police."
Juuhachigou put her hand on the door.
"Stop, thief!" yelled the manager, and both he and the saleslady leapt at Juuhachi. The cyborg's blue eyes flared with anger. She stepped aside and instantly nailed each of them with a swift chop to the back of the neck; the pair slammed to the floor, necks broken.
Juuhachi faced the remaining people in the store. "I will not be labeled by another man! Not by any of you!" she shouted.
Then she turned and stormed outside, where she took to the air, hovering about twenty feet above the store. She clutched her bundle of clothes tighter and fired a single blast with her free hand. Schinky's Boutique exploded in a massive fireball, and anything—or anyone—that had the misfortune of standing within a 20-foot radius of the store was incinerated.
"Never again," she said between clenched teeth. "I'm already—different from you—forever."
By the time the dust settled and the police arrived to the scene, Juuhachi was already flying back to her brother's cabin.
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Mrs. Briefs loved to entertain visitors at Capsule Corporation—especially young male visitors. Today Yamucha had the misfortune of being her involuntary guest. His car had broken down only a block up the street. Rather than forking out his admittedly limited money for a tow truck and overpriced mechanic, he'd walked to Capsule Corporation in the hopes Bulma or her dad could fix it up for a much better price.
Now Yamucha was starting to wish he and Dr. Briefs had never pushed the poor car into the Briefs' driveway. Mrs. Briefs' protocol when entertaining was to seat her visitor in the living room, serve him tea and pastries, then chat amiably until the guest passed out from sheer boredom.
"—so I told him I couldn't possibly go out with an older man such as him. I suppose he was handsome in a rather gray and wrinkly way—but he just wasn't my type! He looked old enough to be a grandpapa! I don't look old enough to be a grandmamma, do I?"
"No, Mrs. Briefs. Not at all." At least he didn't have to lie; Bulma's mother was still attractive, especially for her age.
She leaned closer to Yamucha; the scent of perfume wafted towards him. "Would you believe," she whispered confidingly, "I actually am a grandmamma!" She settled back to let this astounding fact sink in; Yamucha suppressed a sigh and glanced at his watch, wondering how long it would take before his car was done.
"More tea?"
He gritted his teeth into a smile and let Mrs. Briefs pour more tea into his dainty china cup. Next she offered up a matching china sugar bowl. "Some more sugar?"
"No. Thanks."
She looked briefly disappointed, but compensated for his refusal by spooning half the bowl of sugar into her own tea. "A man as sweet as you doesn't need more sugar anyway," she reasoned. "I wonder why Bulma didn't marry you. We were just talking about you just the other day! Are you single?"
Puaru interrupted the conversation with a loud, satisfied burp. Yamucha carefully kept his expression neutral. "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Briefs, "The pastries are all gone!" She picked up the empty tray and excused herself to get some more baked goods from the kitchen.
Yamucha shot a look at Puaru, who was lying on the floor, and both of them burst out laughing. " 'Scuse me!" squeaked the cat belatedly, setting off another round of laughter. Then Yamucha heard Mrs. Briefs talking to someone in the hall and—thinking it was Dr. Briefs telling her he was done with the car—motioned Puaru to be quiet.
"—hair is gorgeous, Bulma, darling!" they heard her squeal. "But—oh! Kuririn!"
Kuririn? "What's he doing here?" Yamucha wondered aloud. He stood up and walked out to find out for himself; Puaru slowly lifted himself off the floor and floated after him, groaning about the weight of the half-dozen pastries in his stomach.
They found Mrs. Briefs standing just outside the kitchen door, still holding the empty pastry tray, and talking to Bulma and Kuririn about which hair salon they had visited. Yamucha's eyes widened—the perpetually bald monk had hair! Kuririn's black hair was slicked back except for a few select locks that dangled onto his forehead; it gave him a look of careless sophistication. Yamucha was so stunned that he completely forgot to greet either him or Bulma until the conversation completely died and he noticed them staring at him. He blinked and sheepishly said hi. "I didn't know you were in town, Kuririn," he added.
"I just got here yesterday."
"He's staying here while he looks for a place of his own," Bulma explained. "You should have seen his hair before! But Giorgio is an incredible stylist, don't you think? Thank God you got rid of that beard, Kuririn. You look years younger!"
"You look good," Yamucha agreed, struggling to picture Kuririn with a beard, and Puaru nodded. Kuririn grinned and scratched the back of his head embarrassedly. Mrs. Briefs disappeared into the kitchen.
"Hey!" Bulma punched Yamucha's shoulder. "You haven't said anything about my new look yet!"
"Huh?" He turned and looked at her. Her bangs were swept sideways across her forehead and the rest of her hair was layered and flipped outwards, framing her face. She smiled at him expectantly and for a moment he remembered why he had loved this girl for so many years.
"It—it looks—" His usual suaveness had left him; he felt like the nervous teenager fresh out of the desert. He cleared his throat. "You look beautiful—as always." He grinned widely.
She looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you here anyway?" Mrs. Briefs came back out of the kitchen, minus the tray, the pastries forgotten.
"My car broke down."
Bulma arched an eyebrow and glanced at her mother for confirmation. "Papa is working on it right now," stated Mrs. Briefs.
Bulma responded, "I better go help him out so we get Yamucha out of here as soon as possible." Yamucha gave her a pained look, but she ignored it.
"Show him Kuririn's new haircut, honey," Mrs. Briefs suggested.
"Fine. C'mon, Kuririn."
Yamucha, Kuririn, and Puaru trailed a little behind Bulma as they walked outside.
"Hey, Kuririn, you doing anything tonight?" Yamucha asked.
"No. Why?"
"He wants you to go on a date with him because all the girls have turned him down," Bulma remarked snidely. Yamucha reddened, but let the comment go.
"I'm going out with my girl," he explained to Kuririn, aware that Bulma was listening. "I was wondering if you'd care to join us and see how we party in the Western Capital? Her roommate is single." He winked.
Bulma snorted, but Kuririn's eyes lit up. "Sure!" he replied. "You wanna come to, Bulma?" he asked good-naturedly.
She just laughed and walked faster.