For everybody else, the 130 days necessary to recharge Namek's dragonballs passed like a dream. Using friendliness Gokuu had taught them long ago, the inhabitants and associates of the Capsule Corporation welcomed the Nameks with open arms and warm hearts, and together they began the post-Freeza healing process. Golf was learned, Poker was played, and the dinosaurs that had been caught up in the Namekian transport found themselves perfectly at home in the Capsule Corporation's capacious greenhouse. Even Captain Ginyu found his place as leader of the duck pond.
And apart from them all and not bothering to heal one bit, Vejiita trained and lived alone, waiting for the day of Kakarotto's return.
Vejiita's purpose in life had been considerably narrowed since the defeat of Freeza and the ascent of Kakarotto to Super Saiyan. Before, yes, it was true that his purposes had been limited; he'd had the goal of conquering, of becoming Stronger, of upholding and maintaining the power and pride of being Saiya-jin. Of evenutally growing powerful enough to give to Freeza the humiliation that the lizard king had given to him.
Now, that had all been subtly altered.
He still wanted to be the most powerful. He was still concerned with upholding his pride and the glory of the Saiya-jin race. He still wished he could take horrific, bloodied revenge on Freeza.
But now, his revenge was gone; another had taken it. His right to glory as Super Saiyajin had also been given to someone else - stolen, in fact, by one who not only did not deserve the privilege, but adding insult to injury, did not even know what a Saiyan really was. Vejiita had lost his position as the strongest Saiya-jin in existence to a halfwit; lost his chance to get at Freeza thanks to that same man; lost his earned glory and pride due to the combined efforts of a fool and Freeza the lizard king.
As far as he was concerned, life at this moment had narrowed to one, focalized point: grow strong enough to defeat Kakarotto and take his pride back. Of course, that would involve becoming Super Saiyan himself. Lacking the benefit of the years of training Gokuu had received, of the extended and specialized instruction from gods and aliens alike, Vejiita was forced to rely on the training he'd had before, combining it with extra strength training to try to catch up. He never even considered that he might not make his goal; single minded, he trudged on at all hours, training, eating, sleeping - and doing little else. For seven days, those three things comprised his entire life.
And then, came Bulma.
At nine o'clock in the morning, on the eighth day of his self-imposed schedule, Vejiita walked into the kitchen and was forced from that moment on to regard Bulma as part of the program.
Bulma was in the kitchen, still in her bathrobe and curlers - and she was also in the way.
"Move," he ordered, and of course expected her to do so.
Bulma turned around - removing the toothbrush she'd had sticking out of one side of her mouth before speaking - and gave him a sleepy morning-glazed glare. "No," she replied.
His eyes widened in shock. "You... I SAID -"
Before this could turn into an actual argument, Gohan and a gaggle of Nameks suddenly trouped into the kitchen, talking merrily about some sport or other and completely unaware of the high tensions of its occupants. Unwilling to deal with the overwhelming sociability of the situation, Vejiita gave Bulma a warning scowl and then left.
Bulma stood where she was, chewing her toothbrush meditatively; then she shrugged and went back to rummaging in the refrigerator. Nothing else came of this for another two weeks.
"And that was important, Dende, sir?" Mr. Popo asked, looking slightly puzzled. It seemed to him that most encounters with Vejiita were variations on this little story.
"Well, it was to him," Dende explained, leaning forward and almost breathless with the excitement of learning something new. "You see, with the exception of the few beings who were actually stronger than he was, no one had ever dared blow off Vejiita before. Nobody. And he knew SHE knew he was stronger than she was, and he also knew that she was smart enough to know just how dangerous. Basically, it surprised him that she'd dare do something so stupid. See," he went on, shifting in his seat. "By doing this, she lodged herself in his mind; he could never stand insubordination, anyway, not from anybody - and so from that moment on, Bulma gained a permanent place in his head as Something To Humiliate."
"Humiliate?" repeated Mr. Popo, beginning to wonder if Dende had picked the best subjects for his experiment.
"Yes," Dende said. "And it really started to work that way...."
Two weeks later, Vejiita saw Bulma again - specifically because he'd lain in wait for her for much of the night. He was not doing this because he was lonely; "lonely" was not a part of his makeup. To put it simply, he was doing this because he was bored.
Vejiita had grown tired of working without a direct challenge, and her disrespect to him had at least offered some light distraction. She had, for some reason, stuck in his mind and he couldn't get her out. Well, better just to deal with it and be done, he reasoned. So, sipping a large glass of water, he waited for her at the kitchenette table, knowing from observation that sometime around 3am she'd come downstairs for a snack.
He was right.
Bulma, wearing her bathrobe again but this time sans curlers, stumbled into the kitchen and blinked to find him there.
"Vejiita?" she asked as if she doubted her senses, and Vejiita was just confident enough to misinterpret her surprise as fear.
"Correct," he rumbled, and waited to see what she would do. The circumstance was perfect; Vejiita himself sat wreathed in shadow, just far enough away from the crackling fireplace to enhance his unspoken threat. Firelight danced over his skin; his eyes seem to glow with ire - and she, poor human female, was all alone. He knew it was childish, but for some reason, he just wanted to spook her a little - maybe remind her of her place. It was certainly a harmless enough activity.
She stared.
Vejiita did not know it - could not - but the thoughts that ran through Bulma's mind at the moment were not comprised of fear or pain or torture; rather, they were comprised of desire - one so strong it almost hurt.
She'd never seen such a beautiful man in her life.
"Wha... th... zuh...." she said, and Vejiita raised his eyebrows.
"That's all? I was under the impression you were smarter than that, Woman," he mocked her lightly, leaning back in his seat and enjoying what he took to be her discomfort.
Her mouth wagged for one moment more, and then she ceased to act in a way that Vejiita understood. "Hot DAMN," she abruptly exclaimed to - apparently - nobody, and then walked past him very rapidly to the sink. A second later, she had cold water running and was busily splashing herself in the face.
He watched this insane behavior for a moment before speaking again. "Woman, what in hell are you doing?" he snapped, forgoing mystique for the sake of berating. "The shower is upstairs; I do not care to see you naked. Go bathe someplace else where no one has to look at you."
For some reason, his words snapped her out of her hormone-induced trance; for likely the same reason, they put her in a bad mood.
"Why the hell do YOU care where I bathe, Vejiita?" she said far too loudly, spinning to face him and leaving the faucet running. "This is MY house, and this is MY water, and MY rules, and if I feel like prancing around the entire COMPLEX NAKED I KAMI-DAMNED WI-"
Her last word was cut off for the simple reason that his hand was around her throat.
She hadn't seen him move; just... suddenly, he wasn't seated anymore and instead was in front of her, eyes glittering in the moonlight like onyx and with his fingers oh-so-casually resting on her neck.
He wasn't crushing, however, which gave her hope. On the other hand, it also severely ticked her off.
"Let GO of me, you CREEP!" she shouted, smacking at his hand - and nearly breaking her own in the process. "Ow! OW! DAMN it!" she swore, shaking her hand out and bending over it - and that's when she realized that he had let go and was laughing at her.
Oh, heck yes, he was laughing. As if it were one of the funniest things he'd ever seen in his life.
"Why don't you try head-butting me next time?" he taunted, still sneering. "Your face could use the improvement."
"OOH!" Forgetting all about her hand, Bulma grabbed the nearest pot and flung it at him; he sidestepped, smirking like all hell as it clanged noisily to the floor.
"That the best you can do? Bah. Freeza wouldn't have even bothered taking any of you for slaves... you're not even pleasant-looking enough to bother," he added as an after-thought, testing a new hypothesis.
Bulma gaped. "You... you... SON OF A SAPSUCKING FROG!" she screeched, grabbed another frying pan, and came at him again.
Laughing, he avoided her - and then flew right out the door.
"OOOH!!" she screeched, wiping furious tears from her face as she threw the pan after him. "That.... BASTARD! AHONDARA! BAKAYAROU!" she shouted, pulling up every disgusting name she could think of and hurling it out the door after him. It was a good two hours before she could calm herself down enough to go back to bed and get some sleep.
Meanwhile, Vejiita flew far enough away that he could not even see the lights of the Capsule Corporation; and once that was done, he doubled over and laughed himself sick. Oh, that had been WONDERFUL; much better than he'd planned. He could not count on the woman for something as mundane as physical training, that was certain - but he definitely could for amusement in between training bouts. And her vanity, it seemed, was a sore point; heh. Vejiita had been taught well in the art of psychological warfare; when button was found, push, push, push.
Relishing the slight rush he received from this, the first and only challenge he'd had in days, Vejiita settled into a comfortable sleep. All was right with the world.