"Eternity"
by Acey
Author's Note: For those of you that didn't find my note in my profile page, I couldn't update because my computer of eight years (well, my parents' computer) finally died. Luckily, my daddy let me use his laptop from work, and though all my files from the old computer are dead I decided that I couldn't not try to update something (right now I don't have the patience to rewrite that 2,000 words+ final chapter of "Letters" that was almost finished). So, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
"... the dice was loaded from the start..." -"Juliet," Dire Straits
It was hot that summer, a miserable heat that practically threatened to singe one's hair as they walked out into it, a heat that alarmed some of the weather forecasters and annoyed everyone else. Bura took special care to avoid the sun's rays on the warmest days, shallowly feeling that a nice tan was not worth going out for when it involved blisters. Trunks teased her about that, saying that maybe she should go and borrow a hat from Marron instead of sulking around the house and yelling at everyone outside about sunburns.
"That's easy for you to say. You go borrow it."
Trunks grinned. For a moment he looked changed, different. The glasses did not fit him when he smiled-- they looked wrong, meant for someone else's poor vision and not his own. The smile mocked the cold sternness of his businessman's attire, mocked everything about his orderly manner and world. Then the smile disappeared and the glasses and clothing fit again.
"I can't, not right now. I have a meeting."
"You're always at meetings." Bura scrunched her face up to resemble Bulma's, though the illusion was easy enough to sustain. "You should go other places, Trunks, go have some fun, maybe you could meet a nice girl..."
"Someone has to look after the company. Mom won't be around forever. You shouldn't play around so much, maybe if you actually--" He glanced at his watch, more as a means of ending the conversation than anything else. "I have to go."
"Have fun and meet a nice girl while you're there!" she said in a singsong, and he absentmindedly glared at her, mind on paperwork and budget deficiencies now and only to a small extent on his sister. Trunks turned a corner in the house and was gone.
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Bura found her mother at a computer, typing endless commands into it, her fingers a blur on the keys. Bura had had a few keyboarding classes in high school but never made much use of them, and watched Bulma type with interest as her deft hands moved across the keys with rare backspaces.
"What're you doing, Mom?" she asked, making nothing out of the gibberish she put into the screen, words that didn't mean a thing in any spoken language, words that thus didn't mean a thing to Bura.
"Programming for some of the machines. It isn't too difficult, to be honest, as long as you know what you're doing."
She nodded, uninterested.
"So, how are you, Miss High School Graduate? Now both of you are out of there-- I feel old."
Bura's response was annoyed.
"Mom." It escaped her why Bulma said that every chance she got. Bura felt that if you were in fact aging that there was no point in bringing it up and waving it around like a flag. It made you look old. She scrutinized her mother's face, eying the wrinkles around her mouth and forehead. Bulma had kept herself up well, no one would guess the age she was nearing. As Bura thought this a disturbing picture came to mind, of her, Bura, sitting at a computer some forty or fifty years hence, looking exactly like her mother did now-- or worse, sitting around in a gargantuan room of the Capsule Corporation, staring at faded, beautiful pictures of herself from years ago in has-been movie star fashion. She put the thought from her vain mind immediately. That would not happen for decades.
Bulma saw the look and acknowledged it.
"So you agree with me! Some daughter you are," she said jokingly, without a pause in typing. "I'll remember that look when I write my will."
The humor was lost on Bura.
"Mom."
"Oh, Bura. Why don't you go outside?" she asked, turning from her work to look out the window. "It looks like it's going to be a nice day."
"Mom, it's hot. Haven't you been out?"
"The sun never bothered me too much when I was your age."
"I don't want to go out and lay on the beach when it's practically a hundred degreesin the shade."
"I didn't say you had to. Just drive around a bit, go over to the mall-- something like that. Unless you'd like to spend the day learning how to program machines..."
Even now, her mother treated her like a child. It was as if she couldn't see Bura beyond the age of six, or else, refused to see it. Bura was the little girl with her hair in a ponytail, wearing red and enthusiastically cheering on her friends at tournaments, and then at home, playing with dolls, usually with some playmate or relative. The dolls had changed to cars, but that was a difference Bulma could handle.
"Fine. Bye, Mom."
"Bye, honey."
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She went outside and threw a capsule on the ground, watching as it burst and revealed a scarlet convertible. Bura had decided to go along with her mother's advice and head toward the mall after stopping at Pan's for a little while.
Bura's friendship with Pan was more of one made from convenience than anything else. Their families had known each other since before either of them was born, even before Pan's father was born. Bulma had gone on escapades with Pan's grandfather as a teenager, searching for magical dragonballs that were supposed to grant wishes. After that neither of them had entirely gone their separate ways, though it was highly doubtful that the families would merge. That would likely be no more than a total embarassment for Vegeta and a full removal of the engaged son or daughter's inheritance, or so he had intimated when Bura had had a crush on Goten when she was ten years old.
Pan and Bura's personalities clashed too much to be best friends, even when they were only four and six. But they were close enough that each could go to the other's house without question, and trusted each other to a decent degree. Privately they annoyed each other with their unconsious quirks, Pan's instilled want to spar conflicting badly with Bura's need to shop. Bura only thought of how they differed completely once she got over to her house.
She turned in the road, going toward the house. A few minutes later Bura had made it over there and rang the doorbell. Pan's presence at the other side of the door was obvious immediately as she opened it spiritedly.
"Bura! Come in!"
She did so.
"Hi, Pan," she said, idly glancing at the bandana on the other girl's hair, the boots and backpack, wondering when Pan was going to grow up. Wearing things like that was passable, even cute as a little kid, but Pan was sixteen years old, for crying out loud. Someday Bura wouldforce her to get some new clothes.
"How're you?" Pan said, remembering what remained of manners.
"Very hot. Mom made me get out of the house."
If Pan had heard the note of annoyance in Bura's voice she did not mention it.
"My mom usually has to make me stay inside." she said.
"I know."
"But you can't fight very well indoors. I thought Mom would know that since she used to be a fighter herself, but no." She sighed. "It's not like I'm going to be eaten by a dinosaur out in the woods. That's more of something for Uncle Goten's girlfriend to do."
Bura was interested.
"Paresu?"
Pan nodded, refixing the orange bandana on the top of her head.
"Yeah. I don't really like her. He's been going out with her for two years now, so I guess there's nothing I can do about it."
Bura had met Paresu twice and had gotten the sense that the girl was more naive than anyone she had met in her life.
"She was the one who didn't know what ice cream was, right?"
"Yeah. Or a hamburger."
"Well, at least--" Bura paused, looking over Pan again.
"What?"
"Where did you get that bandana, anyway?"
"Bura? We were talking about Paresu, not my bandana!"
"I know. I was just wondering, you've worn it for years but I never knew where you got it."
Pan, used to attacks for her fashion sense from Bura, replied,"I like my bandana!"
"I know, but where did you get it?"
"Oh," said Pan, mollified. "I got it from this guy. I was on my way to Grandpa's house to train when he saw me. He kind of glared at me; he didn't like me being there. He didn't say anything at first, just kind of stared-- he had a creepy stare. I thought he was some psycho, but he just asked me if I was related to Goku. I told him yes and he threw his bandana to me and said to ask Goku if he remembered him. Or maybe it."
Bura was intrigued. She pulled her headband back before asking,"Did he?"
Pan shook her head.
"I didn't remember his name. Grandpa didn't recognize the bandana so I decided that I might as well wear it. It covers up my haircut."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Pan's mind had reverted to the topic of her uncle's girfriend. "Paresu didn't know what a spa was until Uncle Goten took her to one for Valentine's Day last spring..."
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by Acey
Author's Note: For those of you that didn't find my note in my profile page, I couldn't update because my computer of eight years (well, my parents' computer) finally died. Luckily, my daddy let me use his laptop from work, and though all my files from the old computer are dead I decided that I couldn't not try to update something (right now I don't have the patience to rewrite that 2,000 words+ final chapter of "Letters" that was almost finished). So, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
"... the dice was loaded from the start..." -"Juliet," Dire Straits
It was hot that summer, a miserable heat that practically threatened to singe one's hair as they walked out into it, a heat that alarmed some of the weather forecasters and annoyed everyone else. Bura took special care to avoid the sun's rays on the warmest days, shallowly feeling that a nice tan was not worth going out for when it involved blisters. Trunks teased her about that, saying that maybe she should go and borrow a hat from Marron instead of sulking around the house and yelling at everyone outside about sunburns.
"That's easy for you to say. You go borrow it."
Trunks grinned. For a moment he looked changed, different. The glasses did not fit him when he smiled-- they looked wrong, meant for someone else's poor vision and not his own. The smile mocked the cold sternness of his businessman's attire, mocked everything about his orderly manner and world. Then the smile disappeared and the glasses and clothing fit again.
"I can't, not right now. I have a meeting."
"You're always at meetings." Bura scrunched her face up to resemble Bulma's, though the illusion was easy enough to sustain. "You should go other places, Trunks, go have some fun, maybe you could meet a nice girl..."
"Someone has to look after the company. Mom won't be around forever. You shouldn't play around so much, maybe if you actually--" He glanced at his watch, more as a means of ending the conversation than anything else. "I have to go."
"Have fun and meet a nice girl while you're there!" she said in a singsong, and he absentmindedly glared at her, mind on paperwork and budget deficiencies now and only to a small extent on his sister. Trunks turned a corner in the house and was gone.
*************************************************************************
Bura found her mother at a computer, typing endless commands into it, her fingers a blur on the keys. Bura had had a few keyboarding classes in high school but never made much use of them, and watched Bulma type with interest as her deft hands moved across the keys with rare backspaces.
"What're you doing, Mom?" she asked, making nothing out of the gibberish she put into the screen, words that didn't mean a thing in any spoken language, words that thus didn't mean a thing to Bura.
"Programming for some of the machines. It isn't too difficult, to be honest, as long as you know what you're doing."
She nodded, uninterested.
"So, how are you, Miss High School Graduate? Now both of you are out of there-- I feel old."
Bura's response was annoyed.
"Mom." It escaped her why Bulma said that every chance she got. Bura felt that if you were in fact aging that there was no point in bringing it up and waving it around like a flag. It made you look old. She scrutinized her mother's face, eying the wrinkles around her mouth and forehead. Bulma had kept herself up well, no one would guess the age she was nearing. As Bura thought this a disturbing picture came to mind, of her, Bura, sitting at a computer some forty or fifty years hence, looking exactly like her mother did now-- or worse, sitting around in a gargantuan room of the Capsule Corporation, staring at faded, beautiful pictures of herself from years ago in has-been movie star fashion. She put the thought from her vain mind immediately. That would not happen for decades.
Bulma saw the look and acknowledged it.
"So you agree with me! Some daughter you are," she said jokingly, without a pause in typing. "I'll remember that look when I write my will."
The humor was lost on Bura.
"Mom."
"Oh, Bura. Why don't you go outside?" she asked, turning from her work to look out the window. "It looks like it's going to be a nice day."
"Mom, it's hot. Haven't you been out?"
"The sun never bothered me too much when I was your age."
"I don't want to go out and lay on the beach when it's practically a hundred degreesin the shade."
"I didn't say you had to. Just drive around a bit, go over to the mall-- something like that. Unless you'd like to spend the day learning how to program machines..."
Even now, her mother treated her like a child. It was as if she couldn't see Bura beyond the age of six, or else, refused to see it. Bura was the little girl with her hair in a ponytail, wearing red and enthusiastically cheering on her friends at tournaments, and then at home, playing with dolls, usually with some playmate or relative. The dolls had changed to cars, but that was a difference Bulma could handle.
"Fine. Bye, Mom."
"Bye, honey."
*************************************************************************
She went outside and threw a capsule on the ground, watching as it burst and revealed a scarlet convertible. Bura had decided to go along with her mother's advice and head toward the mall after stopping at Pan's for a little while.
Bura's friendship with Pan was more of one made from convenience than anything else. Their families had known each other since before either of them was born, even before Pan's father was born. Bulma had gone on escapades with Pan's grandfather as a teenager, searching for magical dragonballs that were supposed to grant wishes. After that neither of them had entirely gone their separate ways, though it was highly doubtful that the families would merge. That would likely be no more than a total embarassment for Vegeta and a full removal of the engaged son or daughter's inheritance, or so he had intimated when Bura had had a crush on Goten when she was ten years old.
Pan and Bura's personalities clashed too much to be best friends, even when they were only four and six. But they were close enough that each could go to the other's house without question, and trusted each other to a decent degree. Privately they annoyed each other with their unconsious quirks, Pan's instilled want to spar conflicting badly with Bura's need to shop. Bura only thought of how they differed completely once she got over to her house.
She turned in the road, going toward the house. A few minutes later Bura had made it over there and rang the doorbell. Pan's presence at the other side of the door was obvious immediately as she opened it spiritedly.
"Bura! Come in!"
She did so.
"Hi, Pan," she said, idly glancing at the bandana on the other girl's hair, the boots and backpack, wondering when Pan was going to grow up. Wearing things like that was passable, even cute as a little kid, but Pan was sixteen years old, for crying out loud. Someday Bura wouldforce her to get some new clothes.
"How're you?" Pan said, remembering what remained of manners.
"Very hot. Mom made me get out of the house."
If Pan had heard the note of annoyance in Bura's voice she did not mention it.
"My mom usually has to make me stay inside." she said.
"I know."
"But you can't fight very well indoors. I thought Mom would know that since she used to be a fighter herself, but no." She sighed. "It's not like I'm going to be eaten by a dinosaur out in the woods. That's more of something for Uncle Goten's girlfriend to do."
Bura was interested.
"Paresu?"
Pan nodded, refixing the orange bandana on the top of her head.
"Yeah. I don't really like her. He's been going out with her for two years now, so I guess there's nothing I can do about it."
Bura had met Paresu twice and had gotten the sense that the girl was more naive than anyone she had met in her life.
"She was the one who didn't know what ice cream was, right?"
"Yeah. Or a hamburger."
"Well, at least--" Bura paused, looking over Pan again.
"What?"
"Where did you get that bandana, anyway?"
"Bura? We were talking about Paresu, not my bandana!"
"I know. I was just wondering, you've worn it for years but I never knew where you got it."
Pan, used to attacks for her fashion sense from Bura, replied,"I like my bandana!"
"I know, but where did you get it?"
"Oh," said Pan, mollified. "I got it from this guy. I was on my way to Grandpa's house to train when he saw me. He kind of glared at me; he didn't like me being there. He didn't say anything at first, just kind of stared-- he had a creepy stare. I thought he was some psycho, but he just asked me if I was related to Goku. I told him yes and he threw his bandana to me and said to ask Goku if he remembered him. Or maybe it."
Bura was intrigued. She pulled her headband back before asking,"Did he?"
Pan shook her head.
"I didn't remember his name. Grandpa didn't recognize the bandana so I decided that I might as well wear it. It covers up my haircut."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Pan's mind had reverted to the topic of her uncle's girfriend. "Paresu didn't know what a spa was until Uncle Goten took her to one for Valentine's Day last spring..."
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