The Rekindling
By Otaku No Phantom
Chapter One: The Phone Call And The Tower
I remember the first time I met Vegeta. He pushed me in the mud, and, instead of crying, like every bully expected the kid they pushed to do, I grabbed his leg as he was walking away, and he fell in the mud too. So the kindergarten teacher had two very muddy, very stubborn five-year-olds to clean up, and explain to two sets of parents why their children were wearing clothes from the lost-and-found bin.
But that was a long time ago. Ouji and I don't talk any more, not since…then.
Now, I'm on my own, as a single mother, raising my fifteen-year-old son, trying to provide for the both of us, and occasionally dating here and there, only to find out that my new bow was just another gold digger after the legendary Briefs Millions. Life isn't exactly a bowl of cherries, but I found out long ago that just because everything isn't the way you want it to be, it doesn't mean some things won't work out, and maybe make a change for the better. One of the lessons I learnt when Trunks was teaching himself to crawl—he always got rug burn on his knees, or fell on his face…but pretty soon he was going faster than I could clean the messes up after him, and then he was walking. So something good came out of that.
But forget the 'I love living, because nothing's perfect, but lots of things are good,' speech. Everyone has one, I know, so why did I bother with mine? I guess everyone just needs to get that kind of crap out of their system once in their life.
"Mom, I'm home," Trunks walked in the front door of our elaborate household, and turned a corner seeking me out. I was in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables, and he tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned, he handed me a piece of paper. "Can you sign this?" He asked as I took it from him, and began to inspect it.
"What is it?" I didn't want to waste my time skimming through all of the over-employed pleases and thank-yous the teachers at Trunks' public school spewed for every notice that went home.
"Ah, nothing, really." Trunks shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the corner. I stopped cutting for a second, faced him, and raised my eyebrows. "The top of the sheet says 'Orange Slip.' What the hell is that supposed to mean to me?" I questioned, slapping the paper down on the counter next to Trunks.
He groaned. "Aw, can you just sign it, Mom?"
"Explain what this 'Orange Slip' is, first."
"Just something the office gives you," Trunks insisted on being vague with the explanation. This couldn't be good, my mother's intuition told me.
"Oh, God, should I just go next door and ask Chi-Chi to sign it for me?" Trunks raised his voice a little, and I sensed his tone changing from impatient to annoyed.
"I bet she'll know what this is, good idea! I'll phone her!" I turned towards the sink, where a phone hung overhead, and reached for the receiver, when it began ringing. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused, and surprised at the timing, and picked up quickly, not waiting for the second ring to show my Caller ID. "Hello?"
"The tower," a hoarse voice told me.
"Excuse me? What the—"
"Korin's Tower!" The voice whispered fiercely, seeming more urgent. Something about it seemed familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. No matter, the caller could be anybody, using a voice changer.
"What about it?" I asked.
"Go there, alone. Seven, evening, tomorrow. You'll be watched, don't think I won't know if you bring someone else." The voice sounded like it was in panic, and the tone was urgent enough not to be fake.
"Who is this?" I demanded.
The other line went dead after I heard the user fumble with the receiver on the hook, trying to hang it up properly. Supposedly they were using an old phone…or a pay-phone. Great, so it was untraceable. Damn it…
"Who was that, Mom?" Trunks looked confused.
"I don't know, Trunks. Don't worry about it." I reached over to the phone again, and started dialing Chi-Chi's number to get to the bottom of this 'Orange Slip' business.
"I'm going out now, Trunks, behave, 'kay?" I called into the family room from the coat rack in the foyer.
"Where you going?" My son's voice returned.
"Just out, nowhere special." I decided to play it safe, and not tell anyone about the call to meet at Korin's Tower, just in case they really would know if someone got curious and followed me. I didn't want any trouble.
"Oh, really?" Trunks said. "Sounds interesting, can I come?"
"No," I said firmly. "You're grounded."
"But Mom…it's Friday! The weekend!" Trunks protested.
"Well, you should have thought about that before you went to the office, and brought home an Orange Slip for me yesterday." I replied.
"But—"
"But nothing! No guests, no going places. You can use the phone, okay?" I slipped on my jean jacket, which hung on the closest rung on the coat rack.
"…Fine," Trunks slumped in defeat, and walked sulkily back towards his place on the couch, where he proceeded to watch television.
When I stepped out of the door, a light breeze hit my cheeks, and moved the messily tied back hair on the back of my head. It was one of those warm summer nights…the kind where you can wear a T-shirt outside at night, and you don't feel really cold at all. June…and Trunks was getting restless in school. Hence the office referrals, and Orange Slips…
I started walking towards a Capsule Bus Stop. I sat down on the bench, pushed the red button, and a few minutes later, a robot driving one of West City's finest buses pulled up to the stop. A line of people started to board the bus, dropping tickets and change into the deposit box as they walked by, then picking out seats. I was last to board, and showed my ID to the robotic driver. He processed the numbers on the bar code, nodded at me, and let me past. Being the daughter of the Capsule Bus' inventor helps some times.
I watched buildings, trees, and other cars and buses whiz by on either side of the bus, and waited as patiently as I could for my stop to come. I knew this route well enough, I still visited Korin's Tower sometimes, even though I figured I would never speak to Vegeta again. The other fighters were still my friends, and I'd known most of them before I even knew he existed.
I thought about who'd called me last night. Who could it be? And why would they pick Korin's Tower as the meeting place? Only fighters went there…could it be, that Vegeta wanted to see me again? He wanted to continue the relationship we'd let suffocate, and eventually die over the past ten years? No, couldn't be. He's too damned stubborn to ever want to admit that he was wrong. He and I will never see eye to eye again, and he and I will never speak again.
So, if it wasn't him, who was it? I was fully aware of the chances that it would be someone hoping to kidnap me, and trick Trunks into giving them money from our large vault until they'd milked every drop of treasure from our family, and not even free me in the end, but I was also fully aware that Korin's Tower was full of high-lever fighters trained by the masters of Martial Arts from all over the world, and that they were my friends. They'd never let harm come to me under their own roof.
Here was my stop. I pulled the yellow cord, and the "NEXT STOP' sign lit up neon yellow. The driver sensed the signal, and prepared to pull over at the next boarding stop.
The bus came to a hault in a few seconds, and I stepped off, brushing dirt from the old seat off of me as I walked. I should have driven myself, or gotten a taxi, maybe even my personal driver, but I wanted to be as discreet and secretive about this as possible. If someone I knew saw my car, they might try to catch up to me, and a chauffer, or taxi driver might get curious and follow. So, the bus seemed good enough.
I walked up one street, hung a left at the bent over "Do Not Enter' sign, and came to the small field where there was space for Korin's Tower and Kami Sama's Tower to stand peacefully.
Glancing at my watch, I saw I was a couple minutes early. Would I risk going up to say hello? I'd better not. I walked to the base of the tower, and leaned against the edge. I checked my watch again, and again, then a few more times. These last couple minutes seemed to drag on to no end. As soon as I was about to go up and say hello, when I stood up straight, not using the wall to support myself, I was pushed back by an unknown force. I looked around me, and saw mothing. I checked my watch one more time. Seven o'clock on the dot.
"Good Evening, Bulma." The same voice from the telephone was speaking in my ear.
