Vegeta heard the familiar high-pitched wails, even from a few miles away.
"No wonder Kakarot is an idiot. His brains must have melted from being
around that beast," the Saiyan commented. Bulma twisted herself around in
Vegeta's arm and kicked him the shin. The prince made no noise, but his
mouth twitched slightly.
"Be nice. You're not a good influence on me, either."
"Where are we going, Daddy?" Trunks asked from within the hold of his
father's other arm. He was staring at the ground a mile away, watching the
proud city fade into suburbia below them.
"To a place that you can take off that stupid looking outfit, son." Trunks
yelled in delight and started to babble in his toddler-talk about one thing
or another. Bulma sighed and glimpsed at the lazy red sun retreating behind
them.
"What is it, madame?! What happened to my niece?!" one of Bulma's crazed uncles demanded. Half of the guests rushed up to Chi-Chi, who was screaming alone in the side yard.
"Trunks is sick! They had to leave! That's what Bulma told me!" the maid of honor screamed to the crowd. Bulma's parents pushed though the crowd to Chi-Chi.
"They left? My grandson is sick?! Where did they go? What did they say?" Bulma's psychotic mother yelled directly into Chi-Chi's face. Never, ever was that woman so pushy before! Chi-Chi breathed deep and chopped clean through the stone frog statue next to her for dramatic effect. The pieces scattered apart like a rain of pebbles and the crowd grew dead silent.
"If you will LISTEN to me, Bulma told me that Trunks was sick, and she and Vegeta had to rush him to the hospital. I'm just giving you the message, so DON'T ASK ME ANY QUESTIONS! I've told you ALL I know!" Of course, the family started to hound her about more details: 'Did Trunks throw up?' 'Could it have been the clams? I knew they were a bad idea' and Chi-Chi's favorite 'The poor boy must have inherited some bad genes from that Vegeta. If only Bulma married someone stronger'
"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to the hospital now. Have a good night here without knowing if Trunks is okay," Chi-Chi said to the crowd. She threw out her capsule, jumped in and flew off. The guests didn't even notice that she was flying in the wrong direction: they were too busy searching their purses and wallets for their own dino-caps. Chi- Chi wiped the sweat off her face and guided herself home. Gohan will love to hear this.
"Here," stated Vegeta, stopping over a small meadow of grass bordering a thick forest on one side and a winding brook on the other. Vegeta let go of his two passengers once he landed and he instantly opened the brown bag. The Saiyan picked out his favorite black sweatsuit from the bag, then he tossed a small T-shirt and pair of overalls at the boy, and finally he threw the bag to Bulma's feet.
"Get out of that dumb dress. I'm sure your mother would hate if that ugly thing got dirty," Vegeta said to her. He sat down on a nearby boulder and started to pull of his shoes. Bulma grabbed the bag and sneered at Vegeta.
"I'm sure you are the expert on all things ugly, mister!" she yelled as she trampled off to the forest to undress. Vegeta finished changing out of that horrid tuxedo and into his sweatsuit. As he was helping Trunks with his overalls, he heard a scream.
"VEGETA!! I'LL KILL YOU! YOU EVIL, SLIMEY, LITTLE RAT!" For the second time that day, he laughed and laughed at Bulma, who stomped out of the forest with a face red-hot with anger. Trunks started to giggle also when he saw his mother dressed in a bright lemon yellow shirt and absurd purple polka-dotted leggings.
"Lookie! Mommy looks like a monster!"
"YOU'RE SO NOT HELPING, TRUNKS!!!"
"Now should you really be talking like that to the young brat?" Vegeta said to her, snidely calm. Bulma threw the bag straight at his head. Of course he grabbed it before it hit.
"You are SO impossible, Vegeta! I wonder, what could have ever made me believe you were one for revenge?! How can you hold a stupid grudge for five years?!"
"You let your guard down. Now get back into that forest and find some firewood. Boy, get a pile of stones from that river and bring them back here."
"A spoiled little brat. That's all you are!" Bulma shouted as she huffed back into the forest. Trunks splashed around in the river, looking for stones as if they were Easter eggs. "And don't you forget it woman!" The kid already brought back an armful of rocks and Vegeta arranged them into a circle. Within ten minutes, Bulma came back with some wood and with a small blast of energy, a roaring fire lit the small meadow.
"Let there be light," he muttered. The flickers of flame reminded him of the times he and Nappa worked together as Planet Traders. How long ago was that? Maybe eight, nine years ago. But it sure did feel like an eternity to the Saiyan prince. So much had occurred since those young, simple days. After all of the battles, all of that time he spent getting stronger, all of the potential he had gained; and where was he? On Earth with a family. A family. For a second, fear overcame Vegeta. His blood started to pump wildly and he considered just abandoning this stupid planet once and for all. Just escaping.
"I can't run anymore," he whispered, defeated, his head in his hands. Bulma was pointing out the stars to Trunks, not noticing the turmoil that Vegeta was fighting. He could not understand it! What gift (curse?) he had acquired to be so patient with this planet, the humans, and most of all the two beings that were gazing at the night sky across from him? His blood calmed down and he tried pushing his emotions to the back closets of his mind. But it was getting harder and harder for Vegeta to close the door on those emotions. Especially when she was around. He stood after a few more moments and addressed Trunks, staring down at his son as a king would his faithful subject.
"Boy, go into the forest and bring back an animal to eat. A deer or something."
"But Daddy." whined Trunks. Bulma stared at Vegeta in shock.
"Go. Unless you want your poor mother to starve tonight. Prove to me that you are strong and not weak and pathetic." Trunks pouted, turned away from the fire, and dashed alone into the forest.
"What do you think you are doing?" Bulma demanded. If looks could kill, she just pointed a bazooka at Vegeta's chest. "Trunks is only a young boy! And he-"
"He's clever and strong. And he is out of our way for a good amount of time." Bulma's anger turned into puzzlement. Where was Vegeta going with this?
"Here, I'm only going to explain this once. I brought you out here for a specific reason and-" he tried to say before Bulma cut him off.
"No, let me explain something, Vegeta. Before I listen to one more word of what you say, you have to promise me that we are still getting married tomorrow. The legal one. No family, no frills, so I think you can live with it. Understand that the exchange of our rings is not just a stupid human tradition, but a stupid human tradition that means a lot to me. Get it?" she demanded. Bulma expected him to complain or argue. But.
"Sure. No hair off my back." He turned and picked up two small boulders from the water's edge and placed them in front of the fire. Bulma could barely breathe.
"What? 'Sure?' Is that what you really said?" she gasped. He only gave her one of his stiff, serious looks and sat on one of the boulders.
"Do I look like I have a speech impairment?" Vegeta responded. Bulma's eyebrows arched up. What is this guy planning?
"Thank you for so kindly interrupting me. Anyway, we are going to perform a ritual. A Saiyan tradition. You have your rings, well this is my equivalent of that. Sit down first." A very, very shocked Bulma meekly obeyed the command.
"I'm going to explain how this once and only once. Back on the planet Vegeta, where I spent my childhood, the occurrences of Saiya-jin life-mates were abnormal. Staying with only one other person was seen as an inconvience for most warriors. But there were life-mates, and there is a ritual to symbolize it." Vegeta was staring directly at the fire. He didn't need to look at Bulma; he knew that her blue eyes were brimming with tears and her hands were trembling. He continued.
"It is a very private ritual that must not be viewed by anyone else. My father's sister and her warrior decided to go through with it. I was a curious boy, so when I came across the opportunity to see something super- secret, I took it. And never in my darkest years did I ever forget what occurred on that night." Vegeta paused again. He knew that the woman was a bowl of mush. But he enjoyed pushing her emotions to the max.
"Well? What happened? Was it-" Bulma started to say. A high voice pierced the night air, coming from the edge of the forest. Trunks!
"I caught something, Daddy! It is tough and gigantic and looks tasty!"
"It's too small. Throw that measly thing to the dinosaurs and get something ten times larger. At the other side of the forest," Vegeta yelled back. They heard some rustling in the forest and Trunks retreated back into the dark night.
"That just ruined the whole friggin' atmosphere. I'll get to the short end of it then." Vegeta stood up, kneeled before Bulma and held her shoulders.
"Stories. They were the backbone of Saiya-jin society. Those years when I was alone, stories of my race were all I had. And together we are going to create our own tale. It is a fantasy tale that represents the unavoidable fate and intertwinement of our lives. That is the ritual." He let go of Bulma's shoulders. She collapsed backwards off her rock, her legs twitching. A wave of disappointment washed over the prince's face. He sighed deeply and started to turn towards the fire. "I knew this was hopeless. Forget it then. I'll call the boy back and-" Vegeta muttered. Bulma then jumped back up, hugging Vegeta with stars in her eyes.
"Over my dead body you will! This is the most romantic thing ever! How do we start?! How do we create this story?!" Vegeta nearly collapsed in shock himself.
"Romantic? You think? Well, um." For lack of anything better to say, Vegeta put his hand on the back of her neck and started to kiss her passionately. She definitely didn't mind. After a minute, the parted and they sat back down on their boulders.
"Was that the first step?" Bulma asked. Vegeta grinned and shook his head.
"That was just something to jog my memory. We're seated correctly, the fire, and. okay. I have it now. First, stop gawking at me and look into the flames." For the first time that night, Bulma really looked at the fire. It definitely was not normal; there were way too many blues and purples in it. But it was so beautiful.
"Stare at the fire," Vegeta continued. "Concentrate your mind and energy so that only the fire can be seen and my voice is heard." Such beautiful flames.
"Think of three events in your life: the most joyful, the most depressing, and the most important. Remember being at those situations. Smell, hear, see those events." Bulma nodded her head and recalled those three pivotal moments. Vegeta's voice was getting peculiarly softer; he was being pulled into the trance just like she was.
"Push away those thoughts. They don't matter anymore. You are not you, just as I am not myself. Our story is going to be told, one sentence at a time."
"What if I mess up? Will we remember the tale when it is over?" she asked dreamingly. Her vision swam with the soft tones of blue and purple. Her mind felt as if it were floating upon the gentle waves of a summer ocean.
"The story is ours. It is impossible for you to mess up. And you will never, ever forget. Start. You are the one who must begin it," he faintly responded. The woman that was barely Bulma anymore started the story. After her sentence, the man that was barely Vegeta responded, and they went back and forth, adding to the tale. The last shred of thought that Bulma had before she was completely absorbed by the legend was the memory of talking to her friend earlier that day.
" 'I.I just wanted something different. A wedding that was unlike any other I had ever imagined. Something special.'"
The tale went on for an hour, although neither could remember any trace of it later. The tale could have been about an arrogant knight and his sassy princess, or maybe of two clumsy and misguided adventurers stumbling across each other in a foreign land, or it could have simply depicted the sweet life of two bright flowers swaying in a field of grass. Their story never was forgotten; and although neither could remember it consciously, Bulma and Vegeta's dreams would replay the hidden story until time itself ended. Eventually the two storytellers were so exhausted that they fell asleep, collapsing upon each other, their heads and shoulders supporting each other's weight. The fire was falling dim; the blues and purples had disappeared and small red licks of flame were all that remained. As soon as Vegeta started snoring, a small figure jumped out of a nearby tree and walked to the fire.
Trunks.
The small boy quietly went into the brown leather case and pulled out two blankets. The night had gotten cold, so Trunks threw a larger quilt around his parents and pulled the smaller blanket around himself. The fire died out, and in the starlight, young Trunks looked at the sleeping couple. Both had faint smiles on their faces.
" 'Mommy, why are you getting married?' 'Oh, Trunks, its just to show the family that your daddy and I love each other. That's all.'"
The boy remembered that as he curled up in his blanket and dozed off. His grandparents and aunts and cousins shouldn't need to be shown a big, silly wedding. Trunk's parents loved each other. Wasn't their passion obvious to everyone? Images started to swell in Trunk's mind as he drifted off into dreamland, including a faint vision of the future featuring him and the woman he would eventually fall in love with. Both were sitting in front of a fire. The ritual continues.
"What is it, madame?! What happened to my niece?!" one of Bulma's crazed uncles demanded. Half of the guests rushed up to Chi-Chi, who was screaming alone in the side yard.
"Trunks is sick! They had to leave! That's what Bulma told me!" the maid of honor screamed to the crowd. Bulma's parents pushed though the crowd to Chi-Chi.
"They left? My grandson is sick?! Where did they go? What did they say?" Bulma's psychotic mother yelled directly into Chi-Chi's face. Never, ever was that woman so pushy before! Chi-Chi breathed deep and chopped clean through the stone frog statue next to her for dramatic effect. The pieces scattered apart like a rain of pebbles and the crowd grew dead silent.
"If you will LISTEN to me, Bulma told me that Trunks was sick, and she and Vegeta had to rush him to the hospital. I'm just giving you the message, so DON'T ASK ME ANY QUESTIONS! I've told you ALL I know!" Of course, the family started to hound her about more details: 'Did Trunks throw up?' 'Could it have been the clams? I knew they were a bad idea' and Chi-Chi's favorite 'The poor boy must have inherited some bad genes from that Vegeta. If only Bulma married someone stronger'
"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to the hospital now. Have a good night here without knowing if Trunks is okay," Chi-Chi said to the crowd. She threw out her capsule, jumped in and flew off. The guests didn't even notice that she was flying in the wrong direction: they were too busy searching their purses and wallets for their own dino-caps. Chi- Chi wiped the sweat off her face and guided herself home. Gohan will love to hear this.
"Here," stated Vegeta, stopping over a small meadow of grass bordering a thick forest on one side and a winding brook on the other. Vegeta let go of his two passengers once he landed and he instantly opened the brown bag. The Saiyan picked out his favorite black sweatsuit from the bag, then he tossed a small T-shirt and pair of overalls at the boy, and finally he threw the bag to Bulma's feet.
"Get out of that dumb dress. I'm sure your mother would hate if that ugly thing got dirty," Vegeta said to her. He sat down on a nearby boulder and started to pull of his shoes. Bulma grabbed the bag and sneered at Vegeta.
"I'm sure you are the expert on all things ugly, mister!" she yelled as she trampled off to the forest to undress. Vegeta finished changing out of that horrid tuxedo and into his sweatsuit. As he was helping Trunks with his overalls, he heard a scream.
"VEGETA!! I'LL KILL YOU! YOU EVIL, SLIMEY, LITTLE RAT!" For the second time that day, he laughed and laughed at Bulma, who stomped out of the forest with a face red-hot with anger. Trunks started to giggle also when he saw his mother dressed in a bright lemon yellow shirt and absurd purple polka-dotted leggings.
"Lookie! Mommy looks like a monster!"
"YOU'RE SO NOT HELPING, TRUNKS!!!"
"Now should you really be talking like that to the young brat?" Vegeta said to her, snidely calm. Bulma threw the bag straight at his head. Of course he grabbed it before it hit.
"You are SO impossible, Vegeta! I wonder, what could have ever made me believe you were one for revenge?! How can you hold a stupid grudge for five years?!"
"You let your guard down. Now get back into that forest and find some firewood. Boy, get a pile of stones from that river and bring them back here."
"A spoiled little brat. That's all you are!" Bulma shouted as she huffed back into the forest. Trunks splashed around in the river, looking for stones as if they were Easter eggs. "And don't you forget it woman!" The kid already brought back an armful of rocks and Vegeta arranged them into a circle. Within ten minutes, Bulma came back with some wood and with a small blast of energy, a roaring fire lit the small meadow.
"Let there be light," he muttered. The flickers of flame reminded him of the times he and Nappa worked together as Planet Traders. How long ago was that? Maybe eight, nine years ago. But it sure did feel like an eternity to the Saiyan prince. So much had occurred since those young, simple days. After all of the battles, all of that time he spent getting stronger, all of the potential he had gained; and where was he? On Earth with a family. A family. For a second, fear overcame Vegeta. His blood started to pump wildly and he considered just abandoning this stupid planet once and for all. Just escaping.
"I can't run anymore," he whispered, defeated, his head in his hands. Bulma was pointing out the stars to Trunks, not noticing the turmoil that Vegeta was fighting. He could not understand it! What gift (curse?) he had acquired to be so patient with this planet, the humans, and most of all the two beings that were gazing at the night sky across from him? His blood calmed down and he tried pushing his emotions to the back closets of his mind. But it was getting harder and harder for Vegeta to close the door on those emotions. Especially when she was around. He stood after a few more moments and addressed Trunks, staring down at his son as a king would his faithful subject.
"Boy, go into the forest and bring back an animal to eat. A deer or something."
"But Daddy." whined Trunks. Bulma stared at Vegeta in shock.
"Go. Unless you want your poor mother to starve tonight. Prove to me that you are strong and not weak and pathetic." Trunks pouted, turned away from the fire, and dashed alone into the forest.
"What do you think you are doing?" Bulma demanded. If looks could kill, she just pointed a bazooka at Vegeta's chest. "Trunks is only a young boy! And he-"
"He's clever and strong. And he is out of our way for a good amount of time." Bulma's anger turned into puzzlement. Where was Vegeta going with this?
"Here, I'm only going to explain this once. I brought you out here for a specific reason and-" he tried to say before Bulma cut him off.
"No, let me explain something, Vegeta. Before I listen to one more word of what you say, you have to promise me that we are still getting married tomorrow. The legal one. No family, no frills, so I think you can live with it. Understand that the exchange of our rings is not just a stupid human tradition, but a stupid human tradition that means a lot to me. Get it?" she demanded. Bulma expected him to complain or argue. But.
"Sure. No hair off my back." He turned and picked up two small boulders from the water's edge and placed them in front of the fire. Bulma could barely breathe.
"What? 'Sure?' Is that what you really said?" she gasped. He only gave her one of his stiff, serious looks and sat on one of the boulders.
"Do I look like I have a speech impairment?" Vegeta responded. Bulma's eyebrows arched up. What is this guy planning?
"Thank you for so kindly interrupting me. Anyway, we are going to perform a ritual. A Saiyan tradition. You have your rings, well this is my equivalent of that. Sit down first." A very, very shocked Bulma meekly obeyed the command.
"I'm going to explain how this once and only once. Back on the planet Vegeta, where I spent my childhood, the occurrences of Saiya-jin life-mates were abnormal. Staying with only one other person was seen as an inconvience for most warriors. But there were life-mates, and there is a ritual to symbolize it." Vegeta was staring directly at the fire. He didn't need to look at Bulma; he knew that her blue eyes were brimming with tears and her hands were trembling. He continued.
"It is a very private ritual that must not be viewed by anyone else. My father's sister and her warrior decided to go through with it. I was a curious boy, so when I came across the opportunity to see something super- secret, I took it. And never in my darkest years did I ever forget what occurred on that night." Vegeta paused again. He knew that the woman was a bowl of mush. But he enjoyed pushing her emotions to the max.
"Well? What happened? Was it-" Bulma started to say. A high voice pierced the night air, coming from the edge of the forest. Trunks!
"I caught something, Daddy! It is tough and gigantic and looks tasty!"
"It's too small. Throw that measly thing to the dinosaurs and get something ten times larger. At the other side of the forest," Vegeta yelled back. They heard some rustling in the forest and Trunks retreated back into the dark night.
"That just ruined the whole friggin' atmosphere. I'll get to the short end of it then." Vegeta stood up, kneeled before Bulma and held her shoulders.
"Stories. They were the backbone of Saiya-jin society. Those years when I was alone, stories of my race were all I had. And together we are going to create our own tale. It is a fantasy tale that represents the unavoidable fate and intertwinement of our lives. That is the ritual." He let go of Bulma's shoulders. She collapsed backwards off her rock, her legs twitching. A wave of disappointment washed over the prince's face. He sighed deeply and started to turn towards the fire. "I knew this was hopeless. Forget it then. I'll call the boy back and-" Vegeta muttered. Bulma then jumped back up, hugging Vegeta with stars in her eyes.
"Over my dead body you will! This is the most romantic thing ever! How do we start?! How do we create this story?!" Vegeta nearly collapsed in shock himself.
"Romantic? You think? Well, um." For lack of anything better to say, Vegeta put his hand on the back of her neck and started to kiss her passionately. She definitely didn't mind. After a minute, the parted and they sat back down on their boulders.
"Was that the first step?" Bulma asked. Vegeta grinned and shook his head.
"That was just something to jog my memory. We're seated correctly, the fire, and. okay. I have it now. First, stop gawking at me and look into the flames." For the first time that night, Bulma really looked at the fire. It definitely was not normal; there were way too many blues and purples in it. But it was so beautiful.
"Stare at the fire," Vegeta continued. "Concentrate your mind and energy so that only the fire can be seen and my voice is heard." Such beautiful flames.
"Think of three events in your life: the most joyful, the most depressing, and the most important. Remember being at those situations. Smell, hear, see those events." Bulma nodded her head and recalled those three pivotal moments. Vegeta's voice was getting peculiarly softer; he was being pulled into the trance just like she was.
"Push away those thoughts. They don't matter anymore. You are not you, just as I am not myself. Our story is going to be told, one sentence at a time."
"What if I mess up? Will we remember the tale when it is over?" she asked dreamingly. Her vision swam with the soft tones of blue and purple. Her mind felt as if it were floating upon the gentle waves of a summer ocean.
"The story is ours. It is impossible for you to mess up. And you will never, ever forget. Start. You are the one who must begin it," he faintly responded. The woman that was barely Bulma anymore started the story. After her sentence, the man that was barely Vegeta responded, and they went back and forth, adding to the tale. The last shred of thought that Bulma had before she was completely absorbed by the legend was the memory of talking to her friend earlier that day.
" 'I.I just wanted something different. A wedding that was unlike any other I had ever imagined. Something special.'"
The tale went on for an hour, although neither could remember any trace of it later. The tale could have been about an arrogant knight and his sassy princess, or maybe of two clumsy and misguided adventurers stumbling across each other in a foreign land, or it could have simply depicted the sweet life of two bright flowers swaying in a field of grass. Their story never was forgotten; and although neither could remember it consciously, Bulma and Vegeta's dreams would replay the hidden story until time itself ended. Eventually the two storytellers were so exhausted that they fell asleep, collapsing upon each other, their heads and shoulders supporting each other's weight. The fire was falling dim; the blues and purples had disappeared and small red licks of flame were all that remained. As soon as Vegeta started snoring, a small figure jumped out of a nearby tree and walked to the fire.
Trunks.
The small boy quietly went into the brown leather case and pulled out two blankets. The night had gotten cold, so Trunks threw a larger quilt around his parents and pulled the smaller blanket around himself. The fire died out, and in the starlight, young Trunks looked at the sleeping couple. Both had faint smiles on their faces.
" 'Mommy, why are you getting married?' 'Oh, Trunks, its just to show the family that your daddy and I love each other. That's all.'"
The boy remembered that as he curled up in his blanket and dozed off. His grandparents and aunts and cousins shouldn't need to be shown a big, silly wedding. Trunk's parents loved each other. Wasn't their passion obvious to everyone? Images started to swell in Trunk's mind as he drifted off into dreamland, including a faint vision of the future featuring him and the woman he would eventually fall in love with. Both were sitting in front of a fire. The ritual continues.