Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.
The Perfect Flaw
Chapter XVIII
That night, even Bulma partook in feasting on the birdlike predators--- she was that hungry.
She guessed it really wasn't just to complain; it was top quality compared to the slop served in the mess hall back at the Palace. And anyways, her hunger was more powerful than anything at the moment. She ate through her helping so quickly; there wasn't even time to absorb the exact taste.
After "dinner", Bulma stayed on her side of the fire, quiet. Vegeta, still eating (what a surprise), didn't complain, and as far as she knew he much preferred her silence.
But after a while, when Bulma's head began to throb from struggling with a plan, she looked away, her lips moving subconsciously:
. . . Lesiu-sa œs hâre me lœkl,
lesiu-sa œs hâre đâim me psaʼn.
Sapra eg' kđhorym men tœnh zhin nama ne
Sapra eg' kđhorym men tœnh es sipra ne . . .
She hadn't even realized the words were coming out of her mouth, until Vegeta stilled in his chewing.
She stopped immediately, a bright pink rising in her cheeks. "S-sorry," she uttered quickly.
"That song . . ."
Bulma blinked. Having expected ridicule or something of the sort, she could not hide her confusion when he instead stared with something unreadable in his eyes . . . almost "enraptured" in a sense (though that word was a bit extreme).
"It's 'Sellary's Hymn', isn't it?"
"Y-yeah."
"Hn."
After a waiting a moment to see what else he might say, Bulma ventured, "Why?"
Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest. "It's just interesting that you would sing that."
Not sure how to respond, Bulma looked up at the twinkling blackness just a shooting star sped across the sky. Silently she made her wish. "I always liked that song"--- Bulma let her eyes drift shut--- "though it's still hard to believe it's in reference to Saiyans."
Vegeta's brows drew together at that. "What do you mean?"
"It talks about Saiyans in wars. That I understand perfectly. What I don't understand is its talk about Saiyans having honor." Bulma's lips puckered bitterly as she continued. "If you ask me, your participation in the possession of slaves and purging of worlds is anything but honorable; it's despicable. And let me tell you something: you underestimate those slaves; they're stronger than you think. And one of these days, I guarantee they'll be your downfall."
Flabbergasted, Vegeta stared blankly while letting her calmly spoken words sink in. Then it was replaced with anger. "You know nothing of honor, so I suggest you shut your mouth before I shut it for you."
Bulma should have stopped there, but unfortunately her filter wasn't fast enough. "You can't hurt me; not now."
Vegeta smirked. "My orders were not to kill you. That doesn't mean I can't harm you. I can do whatever I want with you."
Whatever I want with you . . .
His words sent a chill down Bulma's spine, and she thus decided to change the subject. "Do you like the song?"
Vegeta expected a retort, and was taken slightly aback at the question. "What?"
"Do you like the song?"
Hesitating; "Y-yes."
Bulma cocked her head and grinned. "Would ya look at that?" she mused. "We have something in common."
Vegeta studied the woman dubiously, before making his next statement. "You're a strange one."
"Why is it so strange if I have a friendly conversation with you? Don't you ever talk to anyone?"
Vegeta only stared, his jaws grinding. Then without warning, he leaned back against the rock, his eyes averted. "Go to sleep. We're getting up early to search for the last Dragon Ball."
Bulma caught her breath as something heavy pressed against her chest. Without thinking, she asked, softly, "What--- exactly do you plan on wishing for?"
She received a glare for that, one that said 'that's none of your business', and quickly she added, "Just . . . curious."
Then Vegeta just laughed. "Let's just say you're looking at the Eternal Ruler of the Universe!"
Destruction played in Bulma's mind as soon as those words left his lips. She imagined the silhouette of a tyrant who stood engulfed in Hell's aura. Before him lied a dead and barren world, fire roaring about him, as millions of slaves roamed the ruins in chains like mindless drones.
He'd be worse than Frieza.
She couldn't let that happen--- she just couldn't . . .
the fate of the entire universe was resting in her hands.
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Bulma wasn't sure what time it was when she stirred. She opened her eyes to the night sky which sparkled like a thousand diamonds, and wandered her thoughts.
All those stars; they were all different solar systems, with various planets and civilizations, each and every one of them.
And soon, if she didn't do something, they would all be under Vegeta's rule . . . she couldn't stand the thought.
How Bulma had managed to fall asleep was beyond her. But the point was, she was awake now, and could not afford to do so again. She still had to think of some way to . . .
Suddenly, Bulma was jolted from her thoughts by a small sound. Curious, she turned her head to the source.
Vegeta lay against his rock, his head lolled forward in slumber, both gloved hands empty, the Radar having fallen from his grasp.
. . . having fallen from his grasp . . .
Bulma did a double-take, her eyes wide in disbelief.
The Radar . . . was on the ground. Had the Prince really been that tired, to be that careless and fall into such a deep sleep?
Probably that sun, thought Bulma, still feeling weakened by the heat earlier that day. Surely it had affected him as well.
But . . . What . . . do I do?
A part of Bulma's mind--- the part with common sense--- flatly told her to ignore it, reminding her that grabbing the thing was not a formidable plan.
But yet, as Bulma did her best to obey her conscience, something kept pulling her gaze to that goddamn Radar. She could gradually feel her heart rate quicken, and her silent breaths became deafening in her ears.
What if she were to grab it? she thought, biting her lip. Was it even possible? What would Vegeta do if he caught her--- that is considering he didn't wake up before she even got a hold of it?
Bulma juggled these questions feverishly in her head, yet feared to answer any of them.
What if . . . ?
I made a vow that I would get that radar.
Yeah, her conscience protested, but you're not going to succeed this way!
Bulma's eyes clenched shut. What alternative do I have! Time is running out! There's no other way!
The blue haired girl kept her eyes closed for another moment, waiting. There was no response.
Her lids fluttering open, Bulma was met with the sight of her father's invention which lay but feet away. But that feeling of temptation, she noted, was no longer there, churning in her stomach. Instead, a wave of conclusion had flooded over her.
Bulma climbed stealthily to her feet.
And the robbery commenced.
It was nerve-wracking as she took her first step. She kept her eyes glued on Vegeta's form, and due to the flickering shadows thrown across him, there were multiple times when it seemed his eyes were open, and those empty dark orbs were locked on her. Though even with this eerie observation, she continued to make her way toward him.
The scouter on his right ear had been brought to her attention also. She knew--- after having dealt with the contraptions on several occasions--- that it also served as a motion detector. However, it was only able to pick up average walking speed or higher. If she were to move slow enough, there was a possibility she would not be detected.
Keeping this in mind, each step took a little more than 40 seconds, approximately--- just in case.She didn't want to take any chances.
Stopping, Bulma bent down with her trembling hand moving to the Radar. But something froze her there, and she wouldn't have been able to move, even if she'd wanted to.
For it was just sinking in:
she was going to die. Whether it was in just a few moments, or when she was taken back to Vegeta.
What would the next life be like though? Surely she'd go to Heaven? To a place far away from enslavement or those despicable Saiyans? But then . . . what if there was no Heaven or Hell? What if death was death, and there was no afterwards? Just--- nothingness; no thought; no sound; no light; no dark . . . just . . . vast, wide, empty nothingness . . . for eternity?
Now that was a scary thought (one that made Bulma think twice about doing this), a thought that Bulma nervously pushed away. Then her hand began inching forward again. Her fingers skillfully wrapped themselves around the devise, and as slow as cold honey, she slowly brought it to her chest.
She'd done it; he hadn't woken up.
Bulma bit back the girlish giggle as she cautiously turned and began tiptoeing off in the other direction. Now it was time to get out of there for good.
And suddenly, Bulma felt inexplicably stupid. And just how was she supposed to make it out of there? Did she really expect to tiptoe the entire way? Goddammit! She had overlooked this part! She hadn't expected she make it this far.
Guess I'll just have to make it till I'm out of the scouter's range, then make a run for it.
Wasn't much of a plan, but it would have to do.
Step by step, Bulma made it farther away from the area. She'd already escaped from the ring of light cast out by the fire, and from earshot of the crackling flames. After a few minutes, she grew impatient, and her pace quickened ever so slightly.
Then finally, Bulma tasted victory. She looked back over her shoulder at the campsite that was yards away, grinning. I . . . made it.
From there she broke out into a jog.
I made it.
Her legs were weak and tired, but she didn't care.
I'm free.
Then all hope vanished, as Bulma's foot caught something. She gave a yelp, and pitched forward.
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Vegeta woke immediately to a short shriek that could be heard over the flames. The first thing his eyes darted to was the spot at which the Bulma had been laying.
It was empty.
Something undecipherable rolled in the pit of the Saiyan's stomach, and no particular assumptions came to mind. Then something flashed instinctually in his head, and he looked down into his empty hands.
. . . his empty hands . . .
His eyes darted back up, and this time, dancing flames could be seen shining in their depths.
And not the fire's flames---
but flames of rage.
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"Shit!" Bulma whispered hoarsely, acknowledging the fact that she'd just done what she thought she'd done. Frantic, she pushed herself to her feet and started forward again, looking over her shoulder to see if Vegeta had aroused.
But Vegeta wasn't there . . .
Bulma screamed when she ran full force into what felt like a wall--- the impact of which threw her painfully to her bottom. Disarrayed, she looked up to see Vegeta towering over her, his face rigid, his gaze blank and burning--- and his tail lashing. Only one word came to mind: murderous.
Without thinking, and with a small squeak, Bulma again sprung to her feet, not sparing him another glance as she started in the opposite direction. She wasn't sure why she thought this would get her anywhere; for immediately she felt his fingers furl around her arm. This didn't stop her though. "Let . . . GO!" She screamed and howled, doing her best to yank herself free from his grasp. It was futile; his grip only tightened, like a vice, until the point where that was the cause for Bulma's shrieks.
"Going somewhere, Woman?"
Next thing she knew, Bulma was jerked back and spun in one swift movement. She could feel the Prince's body heat radiating into her as he closed the distance between them, and she was so close to him, she could feel each warm breath distinctly on her face.
But soon that was the last thing on her mind.
Again she found herself locked with those eyes. It was like they were all she could see. The anger in them had somewhat subsided, and they now shone with a strange glint, something indefinite. But all she knew, was that as she stared into those eyes, everything else seemed to melt away, and nothing mattered anymore. She'd forgotten who she was, who he was, why she was here, why she was afraid . . .
Bulma wasn't sure who'd gone in first, but it didn't matter, for before she even realized what was happening, her lips were on his.
This was a new feeling, a new experience, and Bulma wasn't exactly sure what to do. The other's lips were rough and warm against hers, so she was rough, too. She dove into them like she was starved, taking in the sweet sensation of his mouth on hers, relishing this strange, new feeling.
She felt weightless . . . carefree.
When suddenly, it hit her. It all swam over her like a tidal wave: who she was, who he was, why she was here . . . and why she was afraid.
And soon she couldn't feel anything anymore.
Whether it was out of terror for what she'd just done, or something he did to her, she didn't know. Soon she could feel no sensation, as her world went spinning into darkness . . .
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A/N: I really hope you liked this chap; if you didn't, please go easy on me.
9 REVIEWS PLEASE. (126)
Translation for text above:
. . . You can strip him of his armor,
and even of his pride.
For honor is all of which a soldier has,
and honor is all of which he needs . . .
8-28-05
This is something I should have done last chap. I've finally reached 100, and it's all thanks to you! Thanks go to:
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Other News: Has everyone been watching the news about Hurricane Katrina? I was watching it earlier today, and I dunno why I'm writing this, but I just wanted to try to describe this feeling I have. It's the strangest feeling: it's like, as I see all those people standing in line to take shelter, it's almost as if I feel like I should be there, too. Not because I think I can do anything or anything like that, but cuz I feel like, like I should be sharing those individuals' dread and fear, like I should be there to weep with them and share their same pain. For you may say you know of their pain, and you do, but you can't really feel it, unless you're there with them, experiencing it first hand. I almost feeling too fortunate--- or guilty; here I am in my warm, safe bed, when what--- a thousand people or more are facing a chance that their lives or the life of a loved-one may be coming to an end. I dunno, it's just a weird feeling--- hard to describe really. Just kinda felt like writing about it, maybe see if anyone else can relate. : reviewers look at author worriedly; "Uhhh . . . Juclesia? Are you feeling alright?":
