Don't own it!

Vegeta, having no where else to turn to, decided to collected his thoughts instead of going on a mass murder spree. Though that did sound quite interesting to his perverse mind. Now, this certain Saiyan had a tiny secret. One that would cause massive panic if it were ever to be leaked out to the public. He was an avid music lover. Surprised? Probably not, but for the sake of the story, just pretend. Not only was he an accomplished piano player, but he was known to even compose a few pieces of his own. However, he never uttered a word to anyone of this, including his father. He had been known to even dispose of his professors to ensure this. How would it turn out? Oh, here comes the big, bad Saiyan prince. He's here to destroy our race and blow up our planet! But have you heard? He's a wonderful composer. Oh yes, very respected piano player. Isn't that all tea and crumpets? Yeah, not exactly something to strike terror into the hearts of the people.

So now he lay in his private room, his only remaining place of solitude. Even the training rooms were filled with idiots now a days. He sat before a grand piano, the wood looking more like polished marble and the keys made of the finest ivory one had to offer. Though it had taken forever to receive as it came from a planet called "Earth," he believed it was far worth the wait, not to mention price as it took a lot to keep those idiots quiet. He let out a frustrated sigh and lightly tapped on one of the keys. He only played in minor, the dark and depressing chords he felt that were made just for him. Pulling out a sheet of paper, Vegeta skimmed over the notes. It was his first symphony, based on his life. It would never see the light of day, let alone be published, but it was his life's work and that was enough motivation.

He began to play, his skillful hands gliding over the keys like water. He was in his element.

---

As Fate would have it, Buruma chose that time to look for that certain man. She had spent the last hour searching the common rooms, training rooms, and even a few science labs. She had now approached the dungeons. Though the dreary atmosphere and cold, damp air was enough to make her turn around, she was a woman on a mission. She walked past the many torture chambers, the smell of bile and urine enough to gag her. To help, she pulled out her hankie from the skirts of her dress, covered her nose, and kept walking. Eventually, she reached the end of the corridor. Frustrated, as this was obviously her last resort, she slammed her back against the wall. Instead of finding a resting spot, she instead found herself flinging through.

Vegeta just happened to be playing when she landed behind him.

Quick as light, Vegeta had her pinned to the opposing wall, reading to kill whomever discovered his secret. However, he found himself eye to eye with his fiancé. His eyes narrowed as he lowered her slowly to the ground. Buruma, however, chose that moment to begin her assault.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO DESEARVE THAT! WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM ANYW…wait. Where are we?" She roughly shoved Vegeta aside to inspect the new room. The room, though neither large nor small was rather a decent size. About enough to fit 20 people comfortably, she found it odd that Vegeta, the prince of darkness, would be doing in such a bland room. The room itself was completely white. The walls and ceiling had holes punctured in them, meant to absorb sound. One giant halogen light was all that lit the room, but that was enough to make the room horrendously bright. She felt she was in the medical hall, that is, until she saw the only other thing in the room besides Vegeta and herself. A grand piano. Though most Saiyans would not know what one was, Buruma was an educated young woman. She looked back to the scowling man behind her, quirking an eyebrow in obvious confusion.

"Vegeta, why the hell do you have one of these?"

"I like to spar with it." He rolled his eyes, how could someone be that dense? "What do you think woman?"

Buruma now rolled her eyes, "What I mean is, how could someone like you know how to play?"

Vegeta slowly backed her up against a wall, their faces only inches apart, "I am a man of many secrets." He quickly walked away and faced the opposite wall, "You will not speak a word of this to anyone, or I will kill you. It's as easy as that."

"Ok, sounds fair, but on one condition." Vegeta spun around about to yell once more but was silenced by a raise of her hand. "I want you to play for me."

---

Vegeta took his seat on the bench, Buruma, though normally not one to want to be close to Vegeta, sat beside him. He began playing. Buruma watched his hands rapidly pace the keys. She found herself wondering how someone that killed so many innocents could produce such lovely music from the same hands.

It was then that she saw the notes he played did not match the ones written on the paper before them. She slowly put her hands on his and stopped the previous melody. Being rather bold she pointed to the paper in an unspoken gesture. Vegeta, scowled and roughly shoved himself off the bench, walking across the room. Afraid that she had lost him, Buruma found herself moving to the middle of the bench. She started playing the notes on the paper, following perfectly. However, seeing that he ignored her and seemed to be getting more irate, she began to purposely slip up.

Vegeta, hearing her miss certain notes and striking the wrong chords found himself drawn back over to the piano. Shoving her aside, he began to play the piece from the beginning. It was different than what Bulma had played when she was trying, but only by expression. It was a sad song, occasional outbursts that sounded angry and rash. But then, there was a part that was almost, soothing. Had she asked, Vegeta would have never told her. However, she read the title of that movement. 'The witch,' she thought, 'how odd.' She looked once again at Vegeta's posture. Instead of being rigid and untouchable like he usually was, he was, instead, relaxed. His eyes were closed in deep thought and still he played. 'He memorized this? He had to, the notes match perfectly.' It was then that Buruma felt peaceful. She found herself beginning to lean her head on Vegeta's strong shoulder, occasionally feeling the muscle move with his fingers stroking the keys. Though he would usually pull away, something just felt so right with the moment that he refused to stop her. Instead, he just kept playing.

Fuck, he would have to just be more of an asshole later to catch up.

"Vegeta." A grunt sounded and Buruma lifted her gaze to him. "You're amazing." She then kissed his cheek lightly, not surprised that Vegeta stopped playing immediately.

"Don't ever do that again."

"I know, I just had to right then." She gathered her skirts and stood up. "By the way, your father wants to see us. It's something about a woman called Esmonda.

Vegeta immediately left the room and Buruma followed, hearing him whisper something about a witch.

---

It's short, deal with it.