~* Regret Nothing *~
By Zaria
"Security is a superstition - it does not exist in nature. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure."
-Helen Keller
Chapter Two: Ignorance is Bliss
~*~
(A/N: Three pizza pies and forty fanfics later.)
~*~
I made my way blindly, and guilty to my room, leaning against a support beam I sigh to my self- what a fucked up morning, who knows about they rest of the day. What else could go wrong? Scratch that: famous last words. I really don't want to know what else the day will bring.
Now what could that have been? Long, brown, fuzzy, Vegeta doesn't mind. it suddenly clicks. My eyes widen in fear; they are saiyans!
The ruthless slaughterers that the whole country of Chikyuu is currently fighting, including my Yamcha! What am I doing hear helping them? I need to tell Izamami, we have to do something.
But. she must already know because she was really the one that dressed all their wounds. I was only allowed to dress arms and heads, not even the chests of guys, just because I am fifteen but I have my own well-built boyfriend.
Why, oh, why didn't she just tell me who they were? Why? Is she covering for them? I feel so much like a child right now, not a felling usually welcomed by me, for one major reason: it imparts the gift of worst-case- scenario seeing even if it is Martians invading the world to sell while killing off everyone in the process. I roll my eyes, oh, the things I had thought up as a child; the thought gives me some comic relief.
Being realistic now. why would Izamami cover for the monkeys? They could have paid her, but they were unconscious. However the people who brought them here weren't. or she could be one? Old people do not wear the most form fitting things, which knows if she could hide a tail in her kimonos?
Inhaling deeply, I try to stem the flow of unreasonable and intolerable thoughts now filling my head. I really need to rest.
Lack of sleep and stress on top of it really cannot be very healthy so you wouldn't expect someone whose job is to heal people to shake you roughly awake. I guess it's my fault I have no will to see the morning in any way shape or form.
I can only hope two things: one; my nap would be dreamless and two; Izamami won't fire me for sleeping on the job.
I practically trip over my cot as I move to lie down on it.
Izamami won't like me falling asleep again.
Damn confusion.
'Sleep on it.'
I do.
~*~
"Bulma?"
"Bulma!" someone's shouting for me.
"Bulma!!!" whose voice is that?
"BULMA!!!" Izamami.
"I'm going to the market; see if anything's new." Ugh, why doesn't she jut ask the damn ass-holes in the other room? They could probably give her a first-hand account of whatever happened.
"Watch the kettle." Isn't she the one that said 'a watched pot never boils?' "Bye! Take care of the samurai!"
Grubbing about bossy, loud hypocrites I dragged myself out of my cot for the second time that morning, Kami, was it only morning?
Praying that it wasn't, I glance at the sundial out side. Only seven.
It was going to be a long, long day.
~*~
When I entered the kitchen to become a pot-watcher an over flowing kettle welcomed me.
"Great, just great, simply marvelous." I sarcastically muttered to my self and any invisible beings around that I would rather be.
No being able to stand the silence pressing in on my ears and not nearly content enough with the perky birds caroling outside the window I began it sing softly "damn the world to hell and see if I give a da-amn-amn-amn-amn" (A/N: this tune would eventually be known as 'Deck the halls').
As I proceeded to mop up the hot water that had extinguished the fire I didn't notice a figure limp up to the doorway and lean against it, well, that was until it spoke.
"I hope, for your sake, that water on the floor was never intended for my lunch."
"Wahhhhhh" I was so shocked that I flipped over and almost landed did land in a puddle that I had failed to mop up as of yet. After glancing at the short ass that had dared to leave his cot I looked down at the water that was literally beneath me.
"Fuck" now glaring at the troll I hissed "Yeah, that was your lunch and if you don't leave me alone I won't bother refilling the damn thing."
"Well, aren't you the little lady." He sneered.
"More so then you - I hope." Honestly are they trying to give me a low opinion of all guys, well Yamcha didn't. Wait a sec, yes he did, but that story was for later.
"That's not saying very much considering the fact you certainly aren't any type of lady I ever heard of."
"Then perhaps you should get out of your testosterone driven, intelligence deprived slave camp more often." I shot back while getting up.
"You're the only slave here."
"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU I AM NOT A SLAVE!?!" I raise my hand to slap that arrogant smirk off his chiseled visage with the wet cloth still in my hand.
"Ah-" my wrist is jarred painfully in the air as he catches my arm effortlessly.
Clenching my teeth in pain I manage to glance at the face of the bastard who refuses to let go of my wrist.
Writhing to get away I manage to glare straight into the empty eyes of my captor. "Let go of me NOW." You could practically taste the venom dripping of my words.
"I will tell you this only once girl." His hushed, murderous voice carries readily over the silent room. "Never." He fluently twist my arm behind my back while spinning me around, catching me is what even I can recognize as a half nelson.
"Never." With each word he speaks he applies more pressure to my twisted arm.
Grinding my teeth together due to the throbbing agony I try not to listen to his hushed words whispered forebodingly in my ear. "Never. Raise. Your. Hand. Against. Me. Again. And. Expect. To. Survive. The. Consequences." He suddenly releases my undoubtedly bruised arm and pushes me to the ground, "Get back to work, girl, I expect my lunch soon." He arrogantly sticks his nose in the air and struts out of the kitchen.
Sputtering in indignation I glare daggers at his retreating back while trying to recall the ingredients for a very strong sleeping potion taught to me earlier last week.
~*~
An hour later I attempt to slide the door to the infirmary open with my elbow because my hands are carrying a try piled high with food. It isn't drugged, I decided I wanted to live to see the next day of my pathetic life.
Still battling with the door I realize I have to options: one, the nice little angelic way- put the food on the ground, open the door, carry the food in. But since I am in no way angelic I opt for my other choice.
Knocking my elbow on the frame of the door I shout, "Since you can obviously walk, get your lazy ass over here to pick up your damn food!"
A growl, the sound of footfalls, and uneven sound of unfurnished wood scraping against itself and I am faced with the king of all trolls with polls stuck up their asses'.
Shoving the food at him, though tempted to shove it in his face, I slam the door shut as well as you can slam a sliding door and march away with out a word, ignoring the stream of curses following me.
~*~
I carefully sneak my way in to Izamami's room, a talent well practiced by myself- sneaking into places forbidden to me. I step around a loose board, dodge to corner of the dresser and tread carefully over the hidden door. Cautiously rolling up the small bamboo mat and removing the hidden door I stare in awe at the volumes of knowledge that I am not even supposed to exists, much less understand. Seizing a dusty book I silently undo all else I have done.
As I quietly reset the angle of the small bamboo mat the sound of a door closing comes from the opposite side of the house. Izamami is home. I quickly slink across the room with only the flesh on my feet to cushion my footfalls against the wooden floor.
"Bulma-chan! I'm back!" she announces, there is a slight waver in her voice. Ignoring it, I dash down the hall and stuff the heavy book under my pile of clothing.
Panting slightly I try to regain my composure as Izamami, no doubt, comes looking for me. Cooling my flushed face with my bloodless hands I walk to meet her.
I find her piling up the dirty dishes that I was should have cleaned, oops. Looking up from her task at me I notice her eyes full of understanding sorrow.
"Bulma."she begins but trails off. Drying her hands on a sodden terry cloth she reaches into the folds of her obi (A/N: an obi is a large ribbon tied around the waist of a kimono with a large bow in the back) pulling out a folded clipping of newsprint. Handing it to me she whispers, "I'm sorry."
Confused I open the paper, forgetting I'm not supposed to know how to read.
The small bit of old paper contains words that will lead to a series of events altar all known to nigen, Saiya-jin, and Meta-jin kind.
"Battle near Fuji-yama*
Honshu was attacked by a small ban of Saiya-jins, who, never the less, caused vast damage. The Saiya-jins attacked our encampment of soldiers at aproxemently 2:30 in the morning on the twelfth of June, a Getsuyoobi**. Out of the one hundred men stationed there, at least sixty-four have been reported dead or wounded. An unknown number of samurai have been reported missing. Those confirmed either dead or missing include Fujita Lee, Raffia Xu, Akiyama Xu, Miki Wong, Kuririn*** Chestnut, Yamcha Wolff, Raidon Yang, Shinichi Sho."
The list went on but I couldn't read anymore because my vision blurred with the tears now running down my face to smear the ink on the parchment.
"Yamcha." a hollow whisper escaped the lifeless figure before Izamami that was me.
The little bit of paper fluttered silently to the floor from my none-to- steady hands. I stare blankly at the place in the air where my boyfriend, my lover, my.hope.where HIS name used to be, disbelieving.
Izamami reaches a hand out for my shoulder, not only to steady me, but also to comfort. The movement catches my attention jarring my from my trance and bringing me painfully to reality. Shocked, disbelieving and horrorstricken I glance at her for one fearful moment before racing out of the room blinded by my tears.
Eventually I find my way to my room, tossing my head wildly, tears splashing down on my silken kimono. I kneel, practically falling down before my rucksack, digging feverishly through it I search almost in vain among the clutter before my hand finally grasps the wide wooden cylinder box and small glass bottle, both wrapped in a thick, protective woolen shawl.
Laying the bottle on the floor I open the sachet first, carefully pulling out the statuette from my prayer dolls that I had received for my thirteenth birthday, only because I was the first child of my father to live that long, and because he didn't want to go back on his bet.
I gently hold the small, glass figure, speaking in a horse whisper words of comfort, for myself, to it. Caressing the black horsehair scalp, the smooth white skin, smoothing the small, formal kimono I think enviously of the charmed life royalty must live.
Clutching my idol of the empress to my chest I sit on my cot slowly rocking back and forth, back and forth, staring blankly at the occasional splash of a salty tear staining my kimono, thinking of everything I cannot change.
~*~
After an eternity the tears stopped, my insides settled to an extent and time started moving again. Too soon for my taste. Stretching my legs I walk across my room in two steps to put 'the empress' away in her box, while rearranging the cotton around her I look to the other side of the box to the other figurine I brought- the jester. Unless he wants to be chucked across the room he will stay in there. Once I finally get the cotton to settle correctly, so I can close the lid, I look the other item I took out- the bottle.
Not a hand spans tall, or three fingers in diameter but three-quarters full of a completely clear liquid. Less then a spoonful is needed but I don't have one on hand.
Removing the small cork anyway I wrinkle my nose at the horrible perfume now polluting my nostrils. Ignoring the stench I raise the glass to my lips and kick it back, though only allowing a small bit to pass my lips.
I swallow quickly because the taste is worst then the odor. I do not have long to dwell on that because it is only a few seconds until the blissful sensation of being problem-less fills my head before leaving mind numbing bliss in its wake.
Half consciously in my drunken state, I strenuously put the box and bottle back in my bag before allowing myself to finally- finally falling into the blissful state of unconsciousness.
~*~
(End Chapter Two)
* Japanese Word for Mount Fuji
** Monday (Hate 'em)
*** That's Krillen's name as it is spelt in the magna so that's the way I am spelling it.
Well that was an interesting chapter. You learned important things about Bulma, ne?
What you learned you have to find out how it is relevant.
I would like to thank Mariah Ashley for reviewing, here's the next chapter. I finished Beautiful, very good, I like the morbid-ness.
And my pet.wait he's gonna read this (he don't know his nickname, well now he does) umm .err, oh well. O-chan thanks I will be out as soon as it's edited and Kami knows my editors nor I can do that for our lives..
Ok, I confess I didn't Beta-read this chapter that well, any mistakes or confusion please tell me so I can change it. Thank you all. Review, Flame, Let me know you read it! *Still is armed with the Fire extinguisher* Wait a sec why do I have this- I'm a pyro-maniac. *lights black candle* *grin* *is an idiot* I know this was out only a day after the first chapter but that was because I had finished both chapters before I posted one, I have no idea when the third chapter will be out.
By Zaria
"Security is a superstition - it does not exist in nature. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure."
-Helen Keller
Chapter Two: Ignorance is Bliss
~*~
(A/N: Three pizza pies and forty fanfics later.)
~*~
I made my way blindly, and guilty to my room, leaning against a support beam I sigh to my self- what a fucked up morning, who knows about they rest of the day. What else could go wrong? Scratch that: famous last words. I really don't want to know what else the day will bring.
Now what could that have been? Long, brown, fuzzy, Vegeta doesn't mind. it suddenly clicks. My eyes widen in fear; they are saiyans!
The ruthless slaughterers that the whole country of Chikyuu is currently fighting, including my Yamcha! What am I doing hear helping them? I need to tell Izamami, we have to do something.
But. she must already know because she was really the one that dressed all their wounds. I was only allowed to dress arms and heads, not even the chests of guys, just because I am fifteen but I have my own well-built boyfriend.
Why, oh, why didn't she just tell me who they were? Why? Is she covering for them? I feel so much like a child right now, not a felling usually welcomed by me, for one major reason: it imparts the gift of worst-case- scenario seeing even if it is Martians invading the world to sell while killing off everyone in the process. I roll my eyes, oh, the things I had thought up as a child; the thought gives me some comic relief.
Being realistic now. why would Izamami cover for the monkeys? They could have paid her, but they were unconscious. However the people who brought them here weren't. or she could be one? Old people do not wear the most form fitting things, which knows if she could hide a tail in her kimonos?
Inhaling deeply, I try to stem the flow of unreasonable and intolerable thoughts now filling my head. I really need to rest.
Lack of sleep and stress on top of it really cannot be very healthy so you wouldn't expect someone whose job is to heal people to shake you roughly awake. I guess it's my fault I have no will to see the morning in any way shape or form.
I can only hope two things: one; my nap would be dreamless and two; Izamami won't fire me for sleeping on the job.
I practically trip over my cot as I move to lie down on it.
Izamami won't like me falling asleep again.
Damn confusion.
'Sleep on it.'
I do.
~*~
"Bulma?"
"Bulma!" someone's shouting for me.
"Bulma!!!" whose voice is that?
"BULMA!!!" Izamami.
"I'm going to the market; see if anything's new." Ugh, why doesn't she jut ask the damn ass-holes in the other room? They could probably give her a first-hand account of whatever happened.
"Watch the kettle." Isn't she the one that said 'a watched pot never boils?' "Bye! Take care of the samurai!"
Grubbing about bossy, loud hypocrites I dragged myself out of my cot for the second time that morning, Kami, was it only morning?
Praying that it wasn't, I glance at the sundial out side. Only seven.
It was going to be a long, long day.
~*~
When I entered the kitchen to become a pot-watcher an over flowing kettle welcomed me.
"Great, just great, simply marvelous." I sarcastically muttered to my self and any invisible beings around that I would rather be.
No being able to stand the silence pressing in on my ears and not nearly content enough with the perky birds caroling outside the window I began it sing softly "damn the world to hell and see if I give a da-amn-amn-amn-amn" (A/N: this tune would eventually be known as 'Deck the halls').
As I proceeded to mop up the hot water that had extinguished the fire I didn't notice a figure limp up to the doorway and lean against it, well, that was until it spoke.
"I hope, for your sake, that water on the floor was never intended for my lunch."
"Wahhhhhh" I was so shocked that I flipped over and almost landed did land in a puddle that I had failed to mop up as of yet. After glancing at the short ass that had dared to leave his cot I looked down at the water that was literally beneath me.
"Fuck" now glaring at the troll I hissed "Yeah, that was your lunch and if you don't leave me alone I won't bother refilling the damn thing."
"Well, aren't you the little lady." He sneered.
"More so then you - I hope." Honestly are they trying to give me a low opinion of all guys, well Yamcha didn't. Wait a sec, yes he did, but that story was for later.
"That's not saying very much considering the fact you certainly aren't any type of lady I ever heard of."
"Then perhaps you should get out of your testosterone driven, intelligence deprived slave camp more often." I shot back while getting up.
"You're the only slave here."
"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU I AM NOT A SLAVE!?!" I raise my hand to slap that arrogant smirk off his chiseled visage with the wet cloth still in my hand.
"Ah-" my wrist is jarred painfully in the air as he catches my arm effortlessly.
Clenching my teeth in pain I manage to glance at the face of the bastard who refuses to let go of my wrist.
Writhing to get away I manage to glare straight into the empty eyes of my captor. "Let go of me NOW." You could practically taste the venom dripping of my words.
"I will tell you this only once girl." His hushed, murderous voice carries readily over the silent room. "Never." He fluently twist my arm behind my back while spinning me around, catching me is what even I can recognize as a half nelson.
"Never." With each word he speaks he applies more pressure to my twisted arm.
Grinding my teeth together due to the throbbing agony I try not to listen to his hushed words whispered forebodingly in my ear. "Never. Raise. Your. Hand. Against. Me. Again. And. Expect. To. Survive. The. Consequences." He suddenly releases my undoubtedly bruised arm and pushes me to the ground, "Get back to work, girl, I expect my lunch soon." He arrogantly sticks his nose in the air and struts out of the kitchen.
Sputtering in indignation I glare daggers at his retreating back while trying to recall the ingredients for a very strong sleeping potion taught to me earlier last week.
~*~
An hour later I attempt to slide the door to the infirmary open with my elbow because my hands are carrying a try piled high with food. It isn't drugged, I decided I wanted to live to see the next day of my pathetic life.
Still battling with the door I realize I have to options: one, the nice little angelic way- put the food on the ground, open the door, carry the food in. But since I am in no way angelic I opt for my other choice.
Knocking my elbow on the frame of the door I shout, "Since you can obviously walk, get your lazy ass over here to pick up your damn food!"
A growl, the sound of footfalls, and uneven sound of unfurnished wood scraping against itself and I am faced with the king of all trolls with polls stuck up their asses'.
Shoving the food at him, though tempted to shove it in his face, I slam the door shut as well as you can slam a sliding door and march away with out a word, ignoring the stream of curses following me.
~*~
I carefully sneak my way in to Izamami's room, a talent well practiced by myself- sneaking into places forbidden to me. I step around a loose board, dodge to corner of the dresser and tread carefully over the hidden door. Cautiously rolling up the small bamboo mat and removing the hidden door I stare in awe at the volumes of knowledge that I am not even supposed to exists, much less understand. Seizing a dusty book I silently undo all else I have done.
As I quietly reset the angle of the small bamboo mat the sound of a door closing comes from the opposite side of the house. Izamami is home. I quickly slink across the room with only the flesh on my feet to cushion my footfalls against the wooden floor.
"Bulma-chan! I'm back!" she announces, there is a slight waver in her voice. Ignoring it, I dash down the hall and stuff the heavy book under my pile of clothing.
Panting slightly I try to regain my composure as Izamami, no doubt, comes looking for me. Cooling my flushed face with my bloodless hands I walk to meet her.
I find her piling up the dirty dishes that I was should have cleaned, oops. Looking up from her task at me I notice her eyes full of understanding sorrow.
"Bulma."she begins but trails off. Drying her hands on a sodden terry cloth she reaches into the folds of her obi (A/N: an obi is a large ribbon tied around the waist of a kimono with a large bow in the back) pulling out a folded clipping of newsprint. Handing it to me she whispers, "I'm sorry."
Confused I open the paper, forgetting I'm not supposed to know how to read.
The small bit of old paper contains words that will lead to a series of events altar all known to nigen, Saiya-jin, and Meta-jin kind.
"Battle near Fuji-yama*
Honshu was attacked by a small ban of Saiya-jins, who, never the less, caused vast damage. The Saiya-jins attacked our encampment of soldiers at aproxemently 2:30 in the morning on the twelfth of June, a Getsuyoobi**. Out of the one hundred men stationed there, at least sixty-four have been reported dead or wounded. An unknown number of samurai have been reported missing. Those confirmed either dead or missing include Fujita Lee, Raffia Xu, Akiyama Xu, Miki Wong, Kuririn*** Chestnut, Yamcha Wolff, Raidon Yang, Shinichi Sho."
The list went on but I couldn't read anymore because my vision blurred with the tears now running down my face to smear the ink on the parchment.
"Yamcha." a hollow whisper escaped the lifeless figure before Izamami that was me.
The little bit of paper fluttered silently to the floor from my none-to- steady hands. I stare blankly at the place in the air where my boyfriend, my lover, my.hope.where HIS name used to be, disbelieving.
Izamami reaches a hand out for my shoulder, not only to steady me, but also to comfort. The movement catches my attention jarring my from my trance and bringing me painfully to reality. Shocked, disbelieving and horrorstricken I glance at her for one fearful moment before racing out of the room blinded by my tears.
Eventually I find my way to my room, tossing my head wildly, tears splashing down on my silken kimono. I kneel, practically falling down before my rucksack, digging feverishly through it I search almost in vain among the clutter before my hand finally grasps the wide wooden cylinder box and small glass bottle, both wrapped in a thick, protective woolen shawl.
Laying the bottle on the floor I open the sachet first, carefully pulling out the statuette from my prayer dolls that I had received for my thirteenth birthday, only because I was the first child of my father to live that long, and because he didn't want to go back on his bet.
I gently hold the small, glass figure, speaking in a horse whisper words of comfort, for myself, to it. Caressing the black horsehair scalp, the smooth white skin, smoothing the small, formal kimono I think enviously of the charmed life royalty must live.
Clutching my idol of the empress to my chest I sit on my cot slowly rocking back and forth, back and forth, staring blankly at the occasional splash of a salty tear staining my kimono, thinking of everything I cannot change.
~*~
After an eternity the tears stopped, my insides settled to an extent and time started moving again. Too soon for my taste. Stretching my legs I walk across my room in two steps to put 'the empress' away in her box, while rearranging the cotton around her I look to the other side of the box to the other figurine I brought- the jester. Unless he wants to be chucked across the room he will stay in there. Once I finally get the cotton to settle correctly, so I can close the lid, I look the other item I took out- the bottle.
Not a hand spans tall, or three fingers in diameter but three-quarters full of a completely clear liquid. Less then a spoonful is needed but I don't have one on hand.
Removing the small cork anyway I wrinkle my nose at the horrible perfume now polluting my nostrils. Ignoring the stench I raise the glass to my lips and kick it back, though only allowing a small bit to pass my lips.
I swallow quickly because the taste is worst then the odor. I do not have long to dwell on that because it is only a few seconds until the blissful sensation of being problem-less fills my head before leaving mind numbing bliss in its wake.
Half consciously in my drunken state, I strenuously put the box and bottle back in my bag before allowing myself to finally- finally falling into the blissful state of unconsciousness.
~*~
(End Chapter Two)
* Japanese Word for Mount Fuji
** Monday (Hate 'em)
*** That's Krillen's name as it is spelt in the magna so that's the way I am spelling it.
Well that was an interesting chapter. You learned important things about Bulma, ne?
What you learned you have to find out how it is relevant.
I would like to thank Mariah Ashley for reviewing, here's the next chapter. I finished Beautiful, very good, I like the morbid-ness.
And my pet.wait he's gonna read this (he don't know his nickname, well now he does) umm .err, oh well. O-chan thanks I will be out as soon as it's edited and Kami knows my editors nor I can do that for our lives..
Ok, I confess I didn't Beta-read this chapter that well, any mistakes or confusion please tell me so I can change it. Thank you all. Review, Flame, Let me know you read it! *Still is armed with the Fire extinguisher* Wait a sec why do I have this- I'm a pyro-maniac. *lights black candle* *grin* *is an idiot* I know this was out only a day after the first chapter but that was because I had finished both chapters before I posted one, I have no idea when the third chapter will be out.
