Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, so you can't sue me! Ha ha too bad for you, anyways on to the story! (Note: you don't review, I don't post more)

Chapter 3

"Yamcha! It's beautiful!" Bulma gasped as she stared at the huge one-story house in the middle of the island. She hugged him tightly and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Yamcha blushed, not used to the attention, and moved towards the door.

A beeping sound went off repeatedly causing Yamcha to look down at his watch. He sighed and pushed a button that stopped the thing from beeping. "Come on, Bulma. Let's go inside, I want to show you our room."

Bulma had been staring at him strangely because he was obviously nervous about something. 'Did he just say my name? Am I imagining it or did he really say my name? He never says my- whoa! Wait a second! Our room!?' Bulma gaped at him momentarily before she said, "Our room!? We get to share a room!?"

Yamcha nodded. He opened the already unlocked door and held it open for her. "This way," he said in an emotionless tone. She nodded and followed a bit reluctantly. Her instincts were going crazy as they walked through the front room that Bulma guessed was the living room because of the cozy mood it gave off. Then they went into the kitchen, which was painted too bright for Bulma's eyes, and then into a hallway painted a sky blue that in Bulma's opinion clashed horribly with the rest of the colors in the house. The hallway had few doors and was very narrow, but just wide enough to fit Bulma and Yamcha through when they were walking side by side. Yamcha slowly led Bulma towards the bedroom, only speaking to point out a few things like where the bathroom was and things like that. He stopped so suddenly that she ran into him.

"Hey! What's going on here, Yamcha!? What the hell is going on!?" Her instincts were going even crazier than before, but she knew something was up and like always was determined to find out what.

"I hope you'll forgive me, Bulma." His voice was soft, almost inaudible.

'Forgive him?' Bulma was very curious but the way he said it had sent chills down her back making her choose not to ask him about it. They stood in front of the door for a few minutes before Bulma lost patience, sighed and asked, "Are you going to open the door and show me the room or do you want me to?" He shrugged and directed his attention to the floor. Growling, Bulma took it as a: "Yes, Bulma, I'm too lazy to be a gentleman and open a door for you, so would you open it?" She noticed him jump a little and thought, 'Probably because of my growl.' She wrapped her cerulean tail tightly around her waist. Her senses ran amuck as her instincts told her to flee with all her might. She glanced once more at Yamcha's nerve-wrecked complexion once more before opening the door cautiously. She screamed as-

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She gasped and got out of her meditating stance in a flash. She was visibly frightened and sweating. "Damn you, Yamcha," she mumbled before blinking a few times, trying to get a hold of her thoughts again. Sighing she climbed into the thing that the occupants on this ship had the nerve to call a bed (it's like a cot, but not hanging) and instantly fell into a deep sleep.

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Bulma awoke to a loud banging on the door. "Alright! I'm up! Stop already!" When it still didn't stop she screamed and yelled, "STOP, DAMN IT! I'M UP!" It stopped immediately after and she heard a muffled apology. Bulma sighed as she pulled on the clothes the bald one had thrown at her feet yesterday. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, remembering her request to the bald one. As soon as her eyes ran over the brush she picked it up and brushed her hair back into a ponytail, making sure to leave out two curls out of habit. 'A day in a half. I can't believe it! Ever since. god I'm too damn pessimistic!' Ever since she was 14 she'd been a pessimist. 'Thanks to none of then Yamcha and them.' Snarling she fought the vile that threatened to push it's way through her throat. Even the smallest thought of them still brought vile to her throat. Sighing, she looked at herself in the glaze of the window in front of her. She smirking, approving. 'I'll have to make sure to read their ki to the deepest extent.' She sighed. 'Well at least I'll have another goal, but then again. if they're anything around the power of the bald one it'll be the one of the easiest goals I've ever had to accomplish.' She laughed full-heartedly. 'Idiot. He obviously didn't know I was holding back.' Her laugh turned bitter. 'Next time I'll be ready for such dirty moves.' She licked her lips to give them a bit of a glossy look and glanced down at her outfit. 'Same as yesterday. well except that this shirt shows a lot more of my stomach.' Laughing, she realized these were a lot like the clothes she wore back home. 'And no shoes! They probably are good guessers. Yeah, that's what they are: lucky little bastards. Although. with the same clothes every day it must get pretty boring around here. Well then I'll have to spark things up a bit, now won't I?' She walked over to the door and lightly tapped on the door with her naturally black fingernails. "I'm ready," she murmured. The door opened with a barely audible creak. She stepped out quickly and said, "So, you're Turles, eh?" She looked up at him expecting to be looking at her like the bald one had upon their first meeting, but what she saw made her gasp. 'He looks just like Son-Goku!' She stared at him a while as she tried to say something. Finally she managed to mumble, "You look just like Son-Goku!"