Well, I get to use MS Word tonight! Yaay! Formatting! Spell Check!! Okey dokers!
Okay: 10 years later. I think. Yeah, 10 years. Jeez, brain rot.
centerbThe Gold Wolfbcenter
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"So, they say they're coming?" Bulma asked, wondering exactly what this "Cloud" character would be like.
Vegeta nodded, looking around the outside of the stadium for "they". After a few seconds, he smiled and said loudly, "Speak of the devil!"
Lynx, not too far off, turned at the sound of Vegeta's voice, along with the young man that stood beside her.
The boy was maybe eighteen at most, not incredibly tall, but not short. He wore pressed khaki pants, a pressed white silken long-sleeved shirt, and, over the shirt, a sleeveless wine-colored sweater. He stared over his glasses; black, half a centimeter thick-framed glasses. His gold-blonde hair was short and spiked, and he looked to all the world like Gohan's twin, but his face was truly Vegeta's.
Lynx pulled the boy toward Vegeta and Bulma, ignoring his protests of "I just got that shirt back from the cleaners!" and "Mum! Leggo!"
When Lynx and her "son" were standing within talking distance, Vegeta said flatly, "Hello Cloud."
The boy stared blankly. "Huh." Then he smiled, as his memory finally started working. "Haven't seen iyoui in ages. Hard to believe you even recognized me!"
Vegeta tilted his head to the side. "I'll always recognize you, Cloud. Although, I might have to disown you. What's with the clothes?"
Cloud stood up straighter. "I'm a freshman at Harvard! Alex and I both decided a long time ago to change. Alex works at Wall Street now. He's a stockbroker! I know it's not exactly what iyoui would've wanted, and we're both sorry, but. . . oh rot it! There was no way neither of us would ever become fighters! And even Libre-lobo! He's running for Indiana senator!"
"The whole damn family's turning into a bunch of nerds and politicians," Vegeta growled bitterly. "Whatever happened to the Saijin pride!?"
"We're more intelligent than we are powerful. We'd do the world much more good as politicians and, in my case, lawyers than as some warrior. Politicians and lawyers make more money, too. So guess which choice won out?"
Vegeta still wasn't pleased. "Then what about the dynasty!?"
"That'll be taken care of, Vegeta," Lynx cut in. "Once Cloud graduates, he'll take up the kingdom. I just wanted him to have a better education than iIi got. So I have a major in journalism. Big freakin' whoop! I may write for the Indianapolis Star, but that doesn't change the fact that I never went for that Ph. D in Veterinary Medicine like I should've."
"And you actually expected to get anywhere? You haven't aged a day since the tournament ten years ago! Literally! You're still thirteen!" Vegeta shook his head. "What good does ithati do you?"
Lynx grinned evilly and turned on her heel, calling back, "I win an ass-load of awards!"
Cloud sighed. "It's a wonder I'm still sane. With a mother like iheri one would expect to be dead at the least!"
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bSecond Match of the Tournament: The Z-Senshi's Suiteb
Alex, dressed similarly to Cloud minus the glasses and with a dark green sweater (A/N: Who expects brothers to dress alike?), was sitting in a back corner completely ignoring the match. He was poring over his clients' stock portfolios, too engrossed in his work to care about fighting at all. Gohan and Cloud were arguing about a made-up case presented to Cloud in one of his classes. Libre-lobo was hissing angry orders at his campaign manager, the unlucky fellow at the other end of Lobo's cell phone. The three of them completely confused Bulma: Alex, the great almighty con artist, a stockbroker; Cloud, the son of Vegeta and some psychopathic midwestern girl, a Harvard Law honors student; and Libre-lobo, grandson of both Goku and Vegeta, a US senator. It was beyond comprehension, that any of Vegeta's descendants could become such politically powerful and intelligent men.
It was Lynx that was the imosti confusing, however. The smack-talking champion of the previous tournament reading iSherlock Holmes: The Hound of the Baskervillesi. For the third time at that! The girl that seemed so uneducated becoming such a well-read newspaper reporter. Newspaper reporter. That was something Bulma never would've expected. And a Purdue University degree. Even more unexpected.
Panthara was fighting however. She hadn't changed. She was still the loud-mouthed wrangler with an emphatic love of horses. Panthara had, thankfully, not lost her love of fighting. Panthara was still Saijin, for all anyone could tell. That was somewhat reassuring: that the Saijin blood wasn't being entirely bred out of Earth-born Saijins or half-Saijins.
Bulma thanked Panthara for a lot. It was Panthara's son, Libre-lobo, that had made Vegeta and Goku realize that there iwasi something more than hatred and anger between the two of them. She had Panthara to thank. And her own son, Alex, even if he had turned from his heritage to take up a quieter life at Wall Street. Those two and Libre-lobo had ended years of feuding. That thought in mind, Bulma remembered something Vegeta had said twenty-two years ago: that feuds often ran deep among Saijin clans, especially between the Raven's and Drache's. Ancient family arguments often couldn't be broken, no matter what.
*iWell, three people changed centuries of war. They changed Saijin culture as everybody knows it,i* Bulma thought. *iIf three people are capable of ithati, then maybe the entire race can be saved someday.i*
Her train of thought was completely disturbed by Gohan asking her a question about the untrue case him and Cloud had been debating about for the past twenty minutes. It was sickeningly obvious how irrelevant the question turned out to be. "Gohan, stop asking stupid questions! Talk about it with Libre-lobo. He's the politician!"
Gohan didn't argue or act hurt or anything, he just went right back to fighting with Cloud, and now Libre-lobo, about the case. He gave up after a few minutes: there was no way he would be able to beat an uncle-nephew team like Lobo and Cloud, even if Lobo was ihisi nephew too.
It was amazing to see Cloud and Gohan getting along as well as they did. Bulma had noticed from the start that Cloud was much more patient and kind, and usually air headed, than Vegeta. It wasn't Goku versus Vegeta all over again. The only obvious differences between Cloud and Goku were their looks and the fact that Cloud was actually intelligent, which was more than could be said for Goku!
Bulma couldn't tell whether to worry about Cloud and Gohan's friendship or just let it be.
"Haven't you seen how well Gohan and that Cloud boy get along?" ChiChi asked quietly. "It's almost like they don't even care who the other's father is. I never imagined it possible!"
"Me neither. We best leave them alone. Whatever it is that they have in common may be able to stop whatever argument the Raven's and Drache's have."
"It's the scholar issue. They're actually ignoring the fact that Saijins are supposed to be great warriors and not lawyers! Maybe that's what could change the Saijin race so that they can survive: intelligence and patience over hatred and fighting. Chancellor Kyleran says that the Saijin survivors have found a new planet."
That was, in fact, true. The survivors of Vegetasai had discovered an uninhabited planet. The government was currently undergoing a severe reworking to support Cloud's intellectual and strategic way of commanding. Clan territories were being established in a less violent-more logical method. And searches for any remaining survivors on Earth were being conducted. About twenty or so Saijins had been found somewhere on Earth, much more than any other planet. Kyleran, DeLito, and Lynx were more than pleased.
The future, as far as anyone could see, looked promising for the Saijins. What government officials remained just hoped and prayed that their plans would, for once in a century, work out.
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Wow. . . 3 ¾ of a page! Whoopee! And formatted. I hope. Okay, that chapter was increasingly boring. Pardon me, but I'm not in the mood for writing anything. . . action. Bleh. . .
Well, tell me what you think. I reeeeally appreciate it. Just. . . don't flame. Please. Be nice.
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