Disclaimer: I know I don't own DBZ… But I can write Fan Fiction! You can't take that away from me Akira T.! (Maniacal laugh)
Chapter Four
The Scene from Yamcha's Point of View:
Shit. Where are the dragon balls when you really need them? I mean, what stupid being created them so they'd be so hard to collect? Honestly, having them all together would be really helpful in this sort of predicament. Maybe if there was only one, it'd be so much more efficient. I would just tell that massive dragon guy to like, take Vegeta to the furthest corner of the universe. Perhaps put him on a planet where his only companion is a photograph (indestructible at that) of yours-truly. Ha, ha. His head would probably explode or something. Oh, he'd be so pissed. He'd regard my sexy face forever and ever, which is not necessarily a horrible thing.
Oh, right, back to reality. I kind of wish I were on one on those god-forsaken planets or just near a very large hole in which I could just jump into and end it all. Or perhaps a black hole to get sucked into, where I'd be broken down into the smallest form of matter and crushed into non-existence. No pain whatsoever, and who knows, maybe I'll be transported to another dimension? Yamcha in space (the newest major motion picture)! Sigh… You may think that my situation cannot be that bad and I'm overreacting. It's a bit of both, but yes, it is that bad. Here's the current situation. I'm stuck in the fiery pit of hell and Lucifer himself is glaring at me from across the kitchen table. Adjacent to the devil is the Wicked Witch of the West who has just completed her latest and most devious concoction. I've always said that she wasn't cut out to be a chef. Her untamed blue hair blows in an ill wind and her mouth is twisted in an artificial smile. Her eyes tell me to take her side or die a horrible and painful death. Seriously, I don't know which is worse. I'm scorned either way.
I look to my right side for backup and all I can see is a small cowardly blue mouse. Well, I'm not screwed at all! He looks at me with large puppy-dog eyes and we agree silently that I'm not coming out of this one alive. He then retreats to my pant leg, hides, shakes and makes me feel so much more comforted.
I'm alone and I need a plan. I need a way to please them both. But, how in hell can I do so? (No pun intended) Think Yamcha, think. No… thatdoesn't work.
I look around quickly for means of escape. The door is locked. Trust Bulma to double-bolt it.
Who do I plead to for forgiveness or support? Vegeta's ready to kill me, I just doubted his masculinity which equals an instant death sentence. I basically called him a wimp. Now he won't rest until he beats me senseless into the floorboards. Bulma is no better. Her wrath is almost as bad as Vegeta's. They'd actually kill each other if they ever went out. Whoa, now that's a scary thought.
Now I must use my "street smarts" (code word for idiocy) or in other words my… oh yes, my brain, to think my way out of this one. I contemplate for a short minute; patience is not one of Bulma's attributes. It then hits me like how I hit that pole the other day while walking home. My only hope, as I look to Bulma, is in her soup. If I can somehow stomach the creature from the black lagoon I can win her support. Beating Vegeta proves I'm right too, and he won't kill me. Hopefully… if not Bulma can protect me...
Come to think of it, I don't need a woman's protection. What kind of man am I? I should slap myself! It's decided. I will eat this poison to prove to Bulma that I am just as manly as Vegeta! I will do this for myself, hah ha hah, chow time baby (going insane)!
Bulma regarded Yamcha, trying to catch his eye. He was just sitting there, for god's sake, twiddling his thumbs. He has never been really smart. She looked warily over at Vegeta. Spoon in hand, he looked ready to shove it down Yamcha's throat or just throw straight it at his big head. Anyways, Yamcha needed to decide, and by that it meant he needed to take her side. He succeeded in getting the monkey mad, but the push over the edge was still needed.
Decided and prepared Yamcha, suddenly shouted out, adding to the already stygian atmosphere.
"Vegeta! I challenge you to a duel!"
A profound silence followed. Bulma almost danced in her glee. How perfect everything about the plan was falling into place.
"Vegeta ! I challenge-"
Yamcha said again, just in case Vegeta had misheard him yelling the first time around.
"I heard you!" Vegeta interrupted coldly. "Just how dumb are you?"
Yamcha didn't answer that. "Do you accept?"
The spiky-haired man did not need more than a nanosecond to decide.
"I do not back down from challenges if that is what you're implying. Even petty ones," he said, causing Yamcha to grit his teeth. "Explain your duel."
Yamcha regained his composure. "The duel is to…" He paused for added suspense. "Eat this sickening soup until one of us dies!" A slapping noise was heard as Bulma's head dropped onto her palm.
"Not to the death idiot," she whispered to him, "Unless you really want to! Vegeta's primitive mind doesn't understand that it's not really until one of you dies. He won't stop until you really do fall down dead." Genuine shock was portrayed on Yamcha's face. He didn't think of that.
"Or until one of us surrenders" he added nervously. That corrected things.
"Fine," Vegeta replied and added, "Chicken". It took Yamcha second to register this.
"What did you call me?" Yamcha said venomously. Bulma put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but it was far too late. Flames, in a dramatic sense, danced behind his eyes. Vegeta seemed unconcerned.
"Chicken, you know those good-for-nothing fat feathered birds that hop around aimlessly whenever danger is present. Pathetic earth creatures. Quite like yourself and your friends actually." If a live audience had been present, the words "dis" or "brulé" (for my beloved French readers) would have been heard almost euphoniously.
Yamcha stood up, fuming. "You ass! You're welcome to this planet even after all you did! Then you have the nerve to insult my friends as well as me! Goku must have been mad to spare you! Damn him and his good heart!"
Bulma knew he went too far. Mentioning Goku at the table and how he almost finished Vegeta off was an unspeakable taboo.
"You say this when somebody far more powerful is sitting across from you, quite unwise," he growled. His eyes lowered in frustration.
"I'm not scared of you Vegeta!"
"Oh, I believe you," he said sarcastically. Vegeta looked right at him. "Your shaking limbs betray all." Yamcha stood up straighter, trying desperately to steady his body.
"I will beat you! And when I do, you, as the loser will be obligated to perform a task for me." Vegeta was intrigued.
"Fine. If I win though you will have to perform a task for me… as the loser you are."
Bulma chose this as the perfect opportunity to jump in before bloodshed occurred.
"Okay that seems fair. How about… whoever loses must wash the clothes of the other (unmentionables and all) for a whole week (actually, she didn't feel like doing laundry that week)". Both men nodded their heads in agreement, yet were thinking about how they did not want to be the one to do it, although Vegeta had no doubts.
"By hand, for further disgrace," Vegeta added, directing the comment at Yamcha.
Yamcha felt he needed to add something to this challenge as well.
"The loser must wash the clothes outside for the world to see and… they must dress as a butler!" He was pleased with himself until he realized that it would probably be him.
"How about a maid's ensemble? Oh, how fun, a duel, what an interesting idea it is," came a voice from the corner of the kitchen.
"Dad! Get lost!" Bulma yelled. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," he said as though he were a pervert witnessing a private moment.
"Well, get going!" Bulma replied. Her dad could not resist the idea of a challenge, even if he wasn't involved. But his idea was valid. Mr. Brief nodded, said good-bye then disappeared into the shadows of the living room. Bulma kept the whole concept of the duel moving, god; it was too good to pass up! Picturing Vegeta in a frilly maid's dress was so hilarious, she had to keep from smirking. The dress on Yamcha however, was not as funny to her. Why did it somehow seem to fit?
"Alright." Bulma stated, gathering herself.
"So the rules are… the one who consumes the most soup wins, but you cannot physically bother the other competitor. If you do so, you will forfeit the duel and the other competitor automatically wins. The loser thereafter will scrub the clothes of the loser for a week, by hand, and by the road in front of the Capsule Corporation grounds while wearing the typicalattireof a maid. (Which I will go buy, I guess...) The first to leave the table will forfeit the match to the other… Do both participants agreed to abide by these rules?" She sighed, hoping Yamcha would not be the one to lose.
"Agreed," said Vegeta with his arms crossed tightly. He was ready to disgrace Yamcha even further. What an idiot he was to challenge the mighty Prince Vegeta!
Yamcha was a little more hesitant. All together the entire duel sounded like too much. It was like a crossover between Fear Factor and America's Funniest Home Videos. What if he lost? Bulma would put a paper bag over her head to hide her shame and he would be forced to live in an abandoned shack somewhere in the woods all alone as a hermit… his beauty would go to waste, and his other spectacular and amazingly perfect talents as well, because he couldn't save any pretty damsels anymore and get their phone numbers cause, of course they think he's hot, but he's stuck in the woods living as a honourless hermit… etc. etc. (Even in his head he rambles… Or is just plain delusional… Ice L.)
Finally he answered apprehensively. "Agreed…" He said sadly.
"Good!" Bulma said cheerily. "I'll get more soup!"
Twenty-five long minutes pass…
"Are you ready yet woman?" Bulma ignored this.
"Almost Vegeta…" She said wearily.
Placing the steaming tub of supposed "soup" on the table, Bulma filled their bowls full.It's prettyequal, she thought. She then grabbed a nearby pen and a blank sheet of paper and wrote the names "Vegeta" and "Yamcha" upon it. Squeezing the pen she turned to Yamcha, who nodded and then to Vegeta, who glared. They were ready.
"Okay guys… 3… 2… 1… GO!"
The Scene from Bulma's Point of View:
The only word to describe the scene is… horrific. The moment the word "go" emitted from my mouth, both Vegeta and Yamcha transformed. They became…inhuman. Their spoons were blurs and their mouths opened and closed at what could be defined as light speed. In a way it was a spectacular feat. I was honestly amazed, seeing as how this soup could make your typical worm indulgent vomit. What was even more amazing was that Vegeta was actually going along with it! I pictured Yamcha diving into his bowl while Vegeta sat watching, suppressing his laughter. It would have taken Yamcha minutes to realize… I've got to hand it to him though. Vegeta is actually being sportsmanlike.
Yamcha on the other hand is beginning to falter, but I've got to give it to him too. Facing Vegeta is not something a lot of people wish to do in their spare time.Yamcha actually hates him… he wouldn't do this if he didn't. I try to support him, in betweenkeeping score and my stomach from turning. I kind of regret triggering this duel… it's actually really sickening.
Yamcha has tears and sweat pouring down his face now, but he refuses to surrender. Every bite is a tremendous struggle. Ugh, nasty, I don't even want to know what was in that spoonful! I know I made it but… Things at the back of the fridge really aren't identifiable. They can be described as shapeless,mould-habitat, or otherworldly. The fact that somebody is actually eating this mess proves that there are absolutely no limits to male competitiveness. I kind of wish somebody would just give up… before I'm sick.
Vegeta was so disgusted, so utterly sickened, it was unthinkable. What would his father think if he saw him competing with a human; he'd probably just knock some sense into him…. The earthling was slowing… Good riddance, he thought. The stuff was nauseating; he couldn't believe he agreed to this. Well, he couldn't back out now, call it Saiyan pride, but his honour was at stake. He needed to reinstate fear back into the hearts of the earthlings, for they were truly becoming unworried. He enjoyed the way they used to scramble in fear at the sound of his name… And he loved the way their faces twisted and contorted with horror in his presence…. On the other hand, his clothes needed a good wash (he couldn't afford to trust the woman anymore).
"Yamcha!"
Bulma jumped forward to help him out of his soup, in which he fell in when he exhausted himself entirely. Bulma pulled his face out of the foul-smelling liquid and had to smile. Yamcha was grinning, his face covered in soup and ancient egg noodles; he had tried his best.
"You win Vegeta," he said softly and turned to Bulma. "Sorry Bulma, I'm not an eating-machine like Goku." She smiled again.
"You did so well!"
Vegeta suddenly threw his soup spoon on the tiled floor. He was appeared quite angry, and stormed out of the kitchen grumbling. The door slammed behind him.
"What's eating him?" Yamcha asked. Bulma just shook her head, Vegeta was like a locked door, and there was no way in unless one had the key. He'll forever be a mystery… Shrugging away the though shereturned her attention back to Yamcha.
"Are you sure you're okay. I mean, you had (she consulted her sheet) over fifteen bowls of it." She looked down. She had made him eat it. Her and her stupidplot for revenge against Vegeta.
"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. It was my idea," she told him guiltly. She felt really horrible and hoped Yamcha wouldn't be too mad at her. Yet to her surprise he was not.
Yamcha looked startled. "What do you mean Bulma? It's my fault, I started the whole thing."
"But I triggered it, and I provoked you." Bulma wanted to take all the blame.
"Who accepted the challenge, me or you? It was my choice; I probably could have backed down if I had wanted to. Pride is the only thing Vegeta and I have in common. That's why he couldn't refuse either, as much as he wanted to, I bet." He grinned, making Bulma feel far worse then she already did.
"Vegeta won fair and square, so find me a nice maid's outfit okay? I still have to hold up my end of the deal," Bulma nodded silently, ashamed at what she did to both Yamcha and Vegeta. She was so mean; Vegeta deserved what he got, but she felt guilty. Yamcha on the other hand was truly innocent.
Vegeta stomped back into the kitchen, mumbling to himself.
"Vegeta, I…" Bulma started. She wanted to apologize anyway, monkey or not.
"Lousy day," he said to himself. "I just want to punch something." His voice was malicious so there was no use trying to talk to him.
He grabbed a glass of water, chugging it down to wash the horrible taste in his mouth out. His stomach made an interesting noise, as if pleading for mercy. He left then, silently, and angrily made his way to the training capsule.
It was silent for a moment. "I think he's really pissed at us," said Yamcha. Bulma followed his slumped figure as he walked through the seemingly nice afternoon. It came to her then.
"No, he's not mad at us…." She replied knowingly.
In the capsule, Vegeta began his usual afternoon training. Yet on this day he was angrier than usual. He shouldn't have been; he had walloped Yamcha. But there were other things on his mind. The same thing that was always on his mind, and replayed like a broken record. No matter how hard he tried not to listen, he still could not shut his ears completely. It was Kakarot, and even the pathetic earthlings knew. Kakarot was far stronger than him … And everyday he felt like he was falling further behind. Although he'd never admit it, he actually thought for a moment (not a very long moment) that Yamcha was going to beat him. The soup was incredibly difficult to consume…. He had pushed himself. Yet he felt the horrors of his weakness once again, even in a task so insignificant. Vegeta despised the very thought and feeling of losing brought up by the "idiot". Try as he did to forget the sensation,he could not. He hated himself for being weak, a Saiyan Prince; always a few steps behind a peasant like Kakarot. Even the mysterious boy from the future had transcended. They were bothfar ahead of him. Hatred of them boiled inside his body, and he released it through sheer ferocity. He would never give up.
Bulma sighed and sat back in her chair. She was exhausted, mentally. She felt really horrible, and when she saw Vegeta's face she forgother reasons for revenge. He was really upset; it wasn't actually all her fault though… The look on his face was still the same when he returned to the kitchen, his mind occupied. She knew what was bothering him, finally...
While Yamcha was mentioning the time when Vegeta was almost finished off by his nemesis, she saw Vegeta'sface drop. Not subtly, but she witnessed the way his eyes darkened and his fist clenched. The way his muscles tightened and his smirk vanished from sight. She knew that Goku bothered Vegeta; however she did not suspect the deepness of his hate. Not hate, his inability to reach the same level. Did his weakness consume him? Was that the reason why he accepted Yamcha's measly challenge? She sighed heavily then. What must it feel for the powerful prince to be beaten and surpassed again and again? Would she ever know?
Yamcha walked out from the upstairs bathroom and stretched. He felt sick to his stomach, as if someone had punched him right in the gut…. Repeatedly.
He walked to the end of the hallway and brushed his bare feet on the cushy bluematerialof a nearby rug. He stopped to take a look at apicture hanging on the white wall beside him. It was an enlarged photograph of the Brief family placed in an eloboratesilver-plated frame. He located Bulma quickly and laughed at her blue afro. She looked young, maybe about seven, and she smiled her typical broad grin. She was wearing a red dress with a matching bow in her hair. She was really cute. He turned away then, exhaling deeply.
He was a fool. Maybe he should…
His cell phone rang right then, (with the Blue Velvet ring-tone), and he picked it up quickly. Checking both ways as you would when crossing a busy intersection, he snuck silently into a bedroom when he made positive the coast was clear.
"Hello?" He said quietly.
"Oh, hey, how are you? Yeah, I'm good." He paused for a moment, thinking. He looked both ways again, checked around the corner and continued.
"No, I'm not doing anything important, really…. Yeah, I am… Tonight? No, I'm not busy; I'm just sitting here… Okay… So, I'll see you then I guess… Yeah, sure… Bye."
Yamcha hung up, placing his cell phone back in his pocket carefully.
He exited the bedroom, closing the door behind him without making a sound. Heading back downstairs, he avoided looking at the old photograph completely.
The miniature training bots were no match for Vegeta's might. He fired consecutive blasts of ki in their direction, blowing them into fine powder. Vegeta did not stop there. He wheeled around to face the next round of attackers, and powered up prepared. His energy alone held back their attack.
Kakarot must have trained harder. He must have. Raising the force of gravity to a new high, he forgot the warnings old man Brief's had stated to him. Four-hundred G's… Vegeta bore the increased strain on his body with his determination alone. His muscles strained to hold him upright until he fell upon his knees. An image of Goku flashed in his mind then, as if he knew Vegeta had failed once again, perhaps for the last time. Usingalmost all of his energy to stand, he screamed out in anger and pain.
After a struggle he stood verticle once again. He breathed heavily. Kakarot did not give up and neither would he. His training must persist.Vegeta let out a blast at the flying object close by, as powerful as he could make it. He stumbled as he shot it though, causing the ki beam to bounce off of the nearby reflective wall.His own energy washeaded right towards him! Quickly, he shot out another blast to protect himself. The two beams collided, forming a large ball of energy to form.It continued growing unsteadily as Vegeta pumped more energy into it. Itwas growing too unstable;Vegeta couldn't control it anymore.Unable to shield himself, Vegeta was engulfed by the explosion that resulted.
In the kitchen, Bulma sat back in her chair and took a long sip of her drink. Yamcha had been gone for a long time, she thought. What could be taking him?
Just then she heard an unfathomable crash, as if the very earth was splitting apart from beneath her. Scared, she faced her fears and attempted to rush outside to see. Something was horribly wrong… and it was coming in Vegeta's direction.
The windows rattled, dishes shattered on the floor. The entire foundation was shaking unsteadily. Bulma almost fell but made it to the door, which she held to for support. She wanted to scream out, but found she could not. Her entire body was paralyzed with fear.
As quickly as it had started, the shaking ceased. Bulma loosened her hold on the doorframe and stumbled outside as quickly as possible. Breathing heavily, she froze when she beheld what had occurred. The entire capsule …. Her blood turned to ice in her veins.
"VEGETA!" She cried, and rushed towards the rubble.
Yay! Chapter 4 is done, finally. I've been incredibly busy, I have a part-time job now (it's so hectic) and I took some away from doing homework to finish it. What do you think of the story? I personally enjoyed writing about the Vegeta vs. Yamcha challenge. Also, if you know the episode in which this takes place I hope I'm kind of accurate. I have only seen it once, sorry! I did change a few things to the storyline (and left out a couple of things) just to make it a bit more interesting . Just pretend you are seeing the outtakes… ha ha. Well, anyways, thanks to everyone who has reviewed and returned to read more. I really appreciate it! Give yourself a round of applause, a pat on the back, whatever makes you feel better about yourself (joking, I'm not that mean, I really love your reviews). Thank you!
Please, come back for chapter 5!
Ice Lyon