Stuffing the Saiyan clothes back into a small bag, Yamucha continued his flight back to the base. First, he would tell Roshi that he only had a week to snap the main fighters into shape, and then he would tell Bulma that their time span had been considerably shortened. As he entered the edges of the human settlements, he let out a breath he had been unconsciously holding. Yamucha was no fool; he knew that if he were to be discovered, he wouldn't have a prayer fighting against the Saiyan elite.
Letting his body dip to the right, he turned towards the separate island that Master Roshi had inhabited. As he came closer, he could see a few people standing outside, mechanistically repeating basic moves in an elaborate pattern. As he touched down, he could make them out finally. Krillin, his friend and the most powerful False Saiyan looked as if he had been working the hardest, due to the sweat cascading down his face. Next to him, Kentaro, a genial man whose light hair and eyes made it very obvious that he was far removed from the original Saiyan parentage. On the far right, Toshiro, a quiet blond that moved deceptively quick. It was said that once, he outran a Saiyan elite. For that alone, Toshiro had become somewhat of a cult hero. When Toshiro voluntarily severed his tail, the few humans that had been born with tails had removed theirs, as well.
And there, next to Master Roshi, his wife stood, Yumiko. Yamucha though he'd never live to see the day when the old pervert actually acquired a wife. But, there she was, a fighter in her own respect. Young, athletic, helpful --and without a lick of sense about her. Yamucha shook his head sadly. If the Prince himself suddenly appeared in front of their ragtag group, Yamucha held no doubt that Yumiko would challenge the Prince to a fight. No, the concept of self-preservation was completely lost on that girl. Maybe that's why she married Roshi. No sense, that girl.
Roshi held his hand up, signaling for the training to break. The fighters collapsed onto the soft grass, too tired to make it inside the modest home to get some water. "Yes, Yamucha, what have you learned?"
Yamucha placed a stoic mask on his face. Honestly, he doubted their chances, but if he showed fear, it would spread like wildfire. "We have a week. The Prince is going to try to capture Bulma in a week, no doubt to execute her publicly."
Sighing, Roshi stared out over the span of water encircling his home. He breathed in the salty air, and slowly exhaled. "Then we have little time. You will start your training immediately."
"I'll return as soon as I tell Bulma."
"No. No time. Yumiko?"
"Yes?"
"Take the message to Bulma that we have a week before the Prince strikes."
Yumiko almost spat fire. "You're just trying to take me out of the fight! Those bastards killed my family, and you want to deny me the right to fight them! No way!"
Roshi hardened. "You have more than your revenge to worry about! I need Yamucha training!"
Eyes narrowing, Yumiko crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. But we will talk when I return." Without another word, she blasted off into the sky.
Krillin snickered. "Someone's got couch duty tonight."
Roshi frowned. "Krillin, go run around the island one hundred times while I think of what we need to train next."
Krillin grumbled, and stood. Dragging one foot in front of the other, he began making the circles around the island.
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"Bulma! Bulma!" Yumiko growled softly in frustration. "Where the heck are ya?" Landing, she began to walk the halls. "Bulma! Show your blue devil hide!"
"What is it?" A greasy Bulma stepped out of a side room, her tattered clothes and disheveled hair suggesting that she had been working on something. "Yumiko! What drags you out here?"
"Slight problem. Yamucha says that Princy-boy's coming in one week to grab you."
Bulma raised one eyebrow. "Then why isn't Yamucha here to tell me?"
"Got caught up training."
"Ooh!" Bulma fumed. "How dare he ignore me like that!"
"Sorry, sweetie. Got a plan?"
Bulma pursed her lips. "Only the same one as before. We're just going to have to speed it up. Tell Roshi that we need his fighters trained for catch and grabs."
Yumiko nodded. "Right. Need anything before I'm off?"
A twinge of mirth shone in Bulma's eyes as she disappeared into the side room again. "Just for the Prince of All Saiyans to stick his tail up his ass."
Yumiko laughed. "Can do, boss!" She mock-saluted, and took off, back to train further.
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"Your highness. Please. Reconsider this, you don't have to go alone."
Now hours before Vegeta had planned on leaving to capture Bulma, one of his aides was trying to convince the surly Prince to take an army with him for backup. As the Prince donned his armor, the aide paced around, trying to delicately nudge the Prince to change his stance. But, as he well knew, it would be akin to changing the tides.
"Are you saying that I am too weak to handle a few False Saiyans?" Vegeta spat, as if the notion were inconceivable.
"No, no!" the aide frantically backpedaled. "You are the most valued asset of this Kingdom. And no matter how indestructible the asset is, you always take extra precaution with it, your highness."
Vegeta spun around, snarling. "Did my father or his fighters take precautions with me when I was learning how to fight?" He unhinged the breastplate to show his back. "Did I get these scars through careful eyes and attentive medics?" Clipping the armor back together, Vegeta continued. "I can handle myself."
"Of course, your highness."
Vegeta sighed, and began to pull on his boots. "Are you planning on agreeing with everything I say, weakling?"
The aide's eyebrow rose fractionally. Always agree. "Yes, your highness," he sheepishly stated.
Without even glancing up from his footwear, Vegeta raised a hand and ki blasted the man into a thousand myriad pieces. "I hate yes-men."
Just then, the metal door slid open, and the hulking form of Nappa ducked inside. "Your maps are ready, sire."
"Good. Leave them on the table. I leave in one hour."
__________________
"Bulma, you ready to go?"
"Yup," Bulma shouted over the commotion inside the fortified base as people dashed their way through the corridors, scurrying to their assigned locations. "Just gotta make these last-minute location assignments."
Yamucha impulsively leaned over and kissed her. "No matter what happens, remember that."
"Just don't get yourself killed, all right? I need you front line for all of this."
A red flash of color and a piercing siren split the eardrums of the occupants. As everyone turned in horror, a voice echoed over the loudspeaker. "Prince Vegeta has been spotted on the outskirts. Five minutes until arrival!"
Bulma looked up at Yamucha. "Better hit your mark. Good luck."
"I won't let him take you."
__________________
Chuckling, Vegeta dismissed the towers that spiraled up past him as useless decoration. This is going to be a cakewalk.
AN Part 2:
K. Nightwing: Hell, I write this for you and me now. No one else reads the darn thing, so hey! Sorry, no B/V meeting this chapter. Next one, I promise. I don't think this story's going to be as angsty as Cleaving was. More drama and action oriented. But, you never know. Something always comes up. :)
And does Yamucha really need his butt kicked? I mean, he's going to lose the girl already. We all know that. ;) I don't think Veggie mellows out really until fatherhood. And even then… I'm trying to make it as logical a transition I can from the Veggie here to the one you see in Cleaving. And for that, we have to properly establish his ruthless nature.
OK, time for you to update again!