-New Week. New Chapter. New Look.-
-Same Author. Same Style. Same Humor.-
-Deserved Gratitude-: Garowyn, TorankusuGohan, Godzilla2, sexy-jess, InuSaiyan007, SonChan, and Thomas Drovin for reviewing! Thanks for always making sure to review whenever I have new chapters out!
-Note-: As you may have already noticed, I've changed the summary of TST. A little remark from one of the reviewers brought me to my senses, and after reading the small summation three times over, I figured it just didn't fit my story. In other words – it's out. So get used to seeing this new one, okay? I only hope it doesn't sound too mysterious, as most of us comprehend that TST does contain a bit of humor. So, without further ado, here's the new summary, complete in its entire splendor (since FanFiction refused to let me put the whole thing in):
-Full Summary-: Bra. The only thing anyone could ever see of her was a cold, almost rigid exterior. She never let anyone see past this shell, but can one particular half-Saiyan break through and see her for the gentle person she really is? Or will she isolate herself from her agemates, in an effort to always be on top?
-Second Note-: This is one of those unusually long chapters. I can only hope that it'll satiate your hunger for new chapters so you'll stop begging poor me to come out with new ones fast.
-Disclaimer-: I don't own DBZ. But you already knew that. I also don't own the little description of a perfume that you'll see later on this chapter. It belongs to Bath and Body Works. How I got the idea to incorporate it into the chapter, I have no clue. Maybe someone can help me out.
-In this Chapter-: Bra gets in trouble for fighting at the mall! Pan gets even sneakier! Trunks gets enslaved, against his own wishes! Goten gets some bad news!
-Chapter 15-: The Soon-to-Be Future and the Soon-to-Be Past
-Subtitle-: You Make Fun of Me Once, Shame on You; You Make Fun of Me Twice, I Hate You; You Make Fun of Me Again, I'll Kill You
A few days later...
"Mom! Isn't this so cute?" Bra gushed lightly (in an unusually cheery mood) at the West City Mall, holding up a black T-shirt with 'West City' sprawled on it in a graffiti style. Her mother glanced at it for less than what Bra perceived to be a nanosecond, and then turned back to an outfit that she was looking at.
"It's nice, dear, but do you like this orange dress? Does it clash with my hair or my eyes?" Bulma questioned, holding up an elegant garment. She walked over to a mirror and held the gown to herself, smiling at how it looked. Not really paying much attention to her daughter's growing irritation, she cheerfully placed the dress gently in her shopping cart and continued to browse the other over-priced designer labels.
Bra rolled her eyes, mentally lecturing herself for selecting, yet again, the wrong parent to go shopping with. Just watching her mom duck in between the exquisitely designed clothes' shelves excitedly gave her a clear indication of her less than spectacular judging skills. It was great shopping with her mother sometimes, but she would've much rather preferred shopping with her dad. At least when it was her father, she was the center of attention (even if it was begrudgingly so), not an ongoing battle of the spotlight between her mother and herself.
'Dad.' She sighed. He was the only one in their dysfunctional family that she could somehow relate to. If anything, the only things that got to her were the many speeches he made about certain women (i.e. Bulma and Chi-Chi) understanding their role in life, respect, unappreciative brats, low-class Saiyans, the spawn of Kakarot... oh, it was actually an endless list.
She looked up at the pale ceiling above her and felt her eyes water up. He hadn't... he hadn't even said goodbye to her. Was he really that anxious to prove to the world that he was stronger than Goku to remember to bid farewell to his only daughter?
Oh, who cared. He'd come back in a few months. This whole ordeal would all be a dream when Goku finally turned into a grown man again.
She slowly edged towards the cosmetics section of the department store, Stacey's. If her mother didn't follow her, she could be certain that there'd be a handful of attendants awaiting her presence, waiting to cater to her every whim. "I'll be looking at some makeup, okay?"
Bulma nodded, still preoccupied, and closely examined the material of the dress. She abruptly flew through a clothing rack angrily, and her very inattentive attendant came running back to her in a frenzied hurry. "Excuse me, Trixxie. You handed me a size way too large. Are you trying to suggest something?"
"N-No, Miss Bulma," the young woman stammered, a red flush already lighting her cheeks. She couldn't upset Bulma or her daughter, the two most extravagant spenders of the store, or she'd have to experience the manager's (Miss Maria) wrath again... "It was my mistake; I'm really sorry-"
"It's okay, I guess," Bulma butted in, not really intending for the poor girl to get into any more trouble. As Trixxie let out a relieved sigh, she added, "Just don't let it happen again. I'm sure Miss Maria wouldn't want to hear that you've been messing up again. Now, I'm going to need some help with picking out the perfect purse and shoes to accompany this dress..."
Meanwhile...
Pan sat at the foot of her bed in frustration, staring sullenly down at the deep red carpet below her. Shoulders slumped back miserably, she lightly kicked her feet against the small garbage bin that was situated near the bed, not knowing just how to begin Plan Two.
As she continued to kick the garbage container, an idea suddenly came to mind. Growing excited, she accidentally kicked the garbage can too hard, inadvertently spilling its contents on the floor. Staring critically at the many balled up pieces of paper, she bent over and picked up an old family picture, gazing at it in a scrutinizing manner.
She grinned, still holding the picture in her hand. The plan was absolutely perfect now, with no flaws or mistakes; and neither her mother nor her father would guess what was going to happen until it finally did.
She'd need a diversion, of course. Someone who'd distract Bulma effortlessly and would help to cancel out any skepticism her father and mother would get. Someone who was close to her; yet so very far apart from her. Someone who was an easy victim. A chump, a pushover, a sucker...Whatever. Someone who was so credulous and gullible that he'd never know what exactly he was doing for her.
Smirking snidely, she picked up her phone and dialed for Goten.
Back at the mall...
"Trixxie?" Bra called for her personal store attendant upon first arriving to the cosmetics department, but wasn't too astonished when she saw the redhead scrambling frantically to make her mother content. She sighed and took a seat on one of the red leather stools near the perfumes. Nothing was too surprising these days.
She was, however, shocked to see Valese, Goten's girlfriend, a few stools away, trying on some lipstick. She seemed to be completely oblivious to Bra, but finally turned around as Bra offered a tiny 'humph,' insulted that she hadn't been noticed earlier. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Valese asked at last, applying a deep red color on her lips. She moved her blank gaze back to the mirror and kept it there while Bra spoke.
"We met at my mom's business. It was my mother's spaceship that sent my brother, father, and friend into space a few days ago," Bra told her flatly. Wasn't this their third encounter? Was she really serious about not remembering her? 'How dare she!' "And it was your lousy excuse of a boyfriend who forgot to come on time." Valese paid no attention to the remark, and smacked her lips to even out the lipstick. "Ew, did you just use the 'Sample' lipstick without wiping it?"
Valese peered closely at the tube of lipstick, and turned it over on its other side to examine it further. "Huh? I thought that was the name of the color of the lipstick..."
"Jeez, what a dimwit. But what am I saying; she and her boyfriend go together perfectly," Bra muttered sullenly, and picked up a sample perfume bottle in mild interest. INVITING: Be whisked away to your very own paradise with this luscious blend of fresh coconut, lime, and fragrant verbena warmed by vanilla and musk. "Hmm... This actually looks pretty good."
It was expensive, too. Even better.
"So, how's life?" Valese tried to bring about some idle conversation.
Bra wasn't having it. "What do you mean, 'How's life?'" she mimicked in a high-pitched, girlish, cheerleader-like, valley-girl (oh, whatever anyone wanted to call it… they know the type) voice.
"You know, how's life without your brother, how's life without your father... I know you just adore him. Goten told me that you're his little 'princess.'" Valese smiled absently. "Of course, he'd never be as good as my own dad-"
"And you would know, how?" Bra was discreetly amazed at how quick her tongue was in defending her father. And why, of all people, on Valese? Did she honestly miss him that much? She muttered a few small remarks under her breath as she continued to examine the perfume.
Valese didn't seem to hear her insults, and scooted her stool closer to her. "Hey, speaking of Goten-"
"I didn't even say anything about him!"
Valese chose to ignore this particular outburst. "Anyway, you didn't hear this from me, but I think he's secretly an angel," she said confidentially, dropping her voice down to a mere whisper.
Bra snorted, and proceeded to spritz the perfume gently on her wrist. "You don't say? But what makes you think that, pray tell?"
"Well, he can fly, duh! And he's so nice," Valese said matter-of-factly. She leaned her face on her hands and sighed dreamily. "Anybody could see that!"
Bra was steamed at what she was hearing. Was Valese implying that she was dumb? "Take it from me, hun. You want to see a real angel? You're looking at one," she responded nevertheless, hopping off the seat and hovering a few inches above the ground. Sure, that was all she had ever accomplished in flying, but Valese didn't necessarily need to know that. Plus, it was worth it to see that oh-so-satisfying look on her face.
Valese became pale, and began to tremble. "Oh, my... You must be Goten's real girlfriend, here to warn me not to be with him!"
"Please-"
"That's it. I'm going to call him when I get home," she announced. "But I won't tell him that I talked to you. Were his past girlfriends always this jealous?"
Bra landed on the ground. That was the final straw - or as that hotshot ex-boyfriend of her mother used to say (Bulma always seemed to recall that Yamcha was a professional baseball player who enjoyed the sport immensely), three strikes, and she was out. She wanted to punch this girl. And hard, too. Who cared if Trixxie, her mother, and the three other attendants present (Mamie, Sharon, and Stephanie) would all have to hold her down so she wouldn't pound this girl's face into the tiled floor? And who cared if she personally received a slip from Miss Maria, banning her from ever shopping in Stacey's again, because of 'violent misconduct?' Too bad. They were going to lose out on a very good customer. "He's not my..." she tried, but someone's voice interrupted her own.
"Hey," Bulma intervened. Behind her was Trixxie, who was carrying six shopping bags filled to the brim with clothes. "I decided to buy that shirt you wanted, along with that dress I was looking at. Oh, hello, Valese!"
Valese waved distractedly and left, presumably in a hurry.
"Wow, that was rude," Bulma remarked, as Trixxie handed her the bags and left as well. "Does she always look like that? All spaced out?" When Bra nodded, she continued, "Gosh, I wonder what Goten sees in her."
"I wonder what Valese sees in him!" Bra huffed, walking alongside her to exit the store. She appeared angry, but every now and then, she guiltily adjusted her red headband. She hadn't meant to, well, break Valese and Goten up; she wouldn't want to do that to anyone. It seemed to be too late to change Valese's mind, however, and Goten would get over it soon, right?
...Right?
"Look, Mom. I want to go check out a few stores," she told her. She needed to shop all of this off - er… walk all of this off. Seeing her mother's face light up, she put her hands on her hips and added crossly, "By myself. I'll meet you at the food court, in fifteen minutes, okay?" Besides, fifteen minutes was all she needed sometimes to at least clear out three stores.
Bulma nodded stiffly, a bit hurt, and the two went their separate ways.
"Are you from Tennessee, sweet thing? 'Cause you're the only 'ten' I see," a familiar voice drawled from behind Bra, as soon as her mother was out of earshot.
She wheeled around to view the person. "Oh, it's just you." She smirked leeringly at the cast the guy had on his wrist. "Didn't learn from last time, huh? Guess I'm going to have to re-teach you."
The guy raised his hands in protest, and caught up with her brisk strides. "So we started off on the wrong leaf. My bad. Let's just start over, okay?"
She didn't even look at him. "Leave me alone."
He continued with dogged determination, and walked in front of her, forcing her to stop. "Come on, babe. You should be glad that you, of all girls, have caught my attention."
"Get out of my face."
He frowned as she lightly brushed him aside to continue walking. "No woman has ever rejected me. Ever."
'Well, buddy, you just met one.' "Look." This guy was really trying her patience. Bra stopped in her tracks again and punched a tight fist into her palm strongly. A few heads swiveled around as she began to scream, growing red as well, "I'm sick and tired of goons like you insulting me! Why don't you find other girls to bother?" It was amazing how differently men treated her when her father was present, and how they treated her now.
A security guard turned his head upon hearing the commotion, but didn't say anything.
The man's frown grew deeper. "Look, babe. You're lucky you look as good as you do. You're even luckier that I enjoy a girl who plays hard to get. Come on. Just you, me, and my empty car. Your precious daddy will never know. That's right. I know you're nothing but a pathetic Daddy's girl - without him, you're nothing-"
He cried out in pain as Bra's balled-up fist collided painfully into his jaw. She answered by lunging at him, flying at him with her fists ready for another hit. Wordlessly, she continued her frenzied attack, this time using both fists to strike his face. She could see nothing but a blurry view of the man, who was now cowering before her, uttering out a few weak pleads of "P-Please!"
He abruptly screamed at the terrible agony searing into his face, and knocked her off of him.
With only the sounds of his screams of anguish and the thoughts of how her father would have dealt with him helping to fuel her anger, she began to swear obscenely as she jumped back into the fray, causing the security guard to step in.
"'Scuse me, miss. You're going to have to stop, or else-"
She paid no attention to him. Her left arm lashed out, knocking the guard through the thin glass into the nearest store, which was, not surprisingly, full of female shoppers.
And that, as they say, was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Amidst the horror and confusion, the guard immediately took action and grabbed the seemingly deranged, frenetic girl, pinning her to a nearby wall. She promptly calmed down, breathing heavily and twitching as the guard eyed his free arm, which was now littered with glass shards. A few tears began to fall from her splotchy cheeks, most likely from her mixed and confused feelings. "All I wanted was for him to stop bothering me..." she mumbled. A fresh sheet of water threatened to spill from her eyes again. "He shouldn't have mentioned my dad..."
The guard, who wasn't at all fazed by the blood now dripping from his arm, seemed to empathize with her. "Look, dear. I'm willing to let it slide. You sound like you've had a pretty rough week."
She said nothing, and moved his huge arm away from her stomach. She began to leave the scene, the astonished silence of the crowd ironically ringing through her ears.
Of course, she had forgotten about her harasser. He had taken the liberty to slip out of the guard's sight, and had disappeared.
Apparently, she'd also underestimated his brilliance. He took an extremely sleazy shot by popping out of nowhere and elbowing her sharply in her perfect lips as soon as her face was turned. She instinctively let out a small cry, and then kicked at his stomach, sending him flying into a nearby boutique.
She heard the many unsuccessfully stifled gasps, and heard the security guard shout again. She immediately broke into a mad dash for the food court, feeling her lip swell and turn black and blue.
Swearing profusely, she took a seat at the nearest empty table and began to cry. It wasn't as if his hit had hurt her... It was just the change of events that had gotten to her. This... what happened to her... It just wasn't her! Why had she allowed an airhead, a flirty jerk, and a thick, burly security guard to ruin her day? She hadn't even meant to begin hitting the guy! Why... oh, why did she allow him to embarrass herself...
She suddenly frowned. What would her father say to all of this? He'd wonder why she was crying, first of all. She wiped the rest of her tears away, and assumed her usual stoic, indifferent exterior. 'Thank God I'm not wearing mascara...'
Bulma, who ventured into the food court only five minutes later, blanched upon seeing her daughter. "Bra! What happened?" she demanded, assuming a motherly role once again. She probed at the busted lip with a gentle, soft finger.
"Nothing," she mumbled sullenly, flushing. "Just a careless act on my behalf."
"I don't think so... Did you get into a fight?"
"No! I just ran into a wall while I was looking for my car capsule in my purse," she lied. Seeing that her mother was in no way of buying the lie, she added, "It's really no big deal. I'll just pick up some ice at some fast food joint and I'll be set."
"Okay..." Bulma let out a sigh. Why couldn't Bra just open up to her for once? Whatever the problem was, she was going to have to find out. And soon.
As Bra sulkily trailed behind, she wasn't aware of one striking detail:
The man hadn't even mentioned anything about her father in the first place.
Somewhere in space...
"Ouch! Vegeta, that's no fair!" Goku shouted, holding his slightly bruised cheek.
"So?" he responded coolly, and easily blocked Goku's attempt to hit him.
"I'm in a smaller body! You promised to go easy on me!"
"But I am," Vegeta smirked and lightly punched at Goku's stomach, knocking him back. Enraged, Goku powered up into a Super Saiyan and flash-appeared before the Saiyan Prince, punching and kicking rather speedily. Vegeta caught each and every one of his attacks effortlessly with the back of his wrist, and pushed Goku's leg back with a strong arm.
"There's no way I'm going to lose to you again!" Goku told him exuberantly. He turned around for a mere two seconds. "Hey, Trunks, is the food ready yet - ow!" He swiveled around violently, cradling his hurt skull, his eyes tearing softly. "You caught me off guard!"
Vegeta merely answered by moving the back of his hand again and striking him across the back so that the miniature Saiyan crashed to the floor of the training room. This was the most fun he'd had since forever. He only wished he could have more opportunities like this...
Trunks, who was in one of the two big kitchens, frowned to himself as he slowly stirred a pot of soup. He turned to view the many other dishes he had prepared within the hour - a plate of marinara chicken, a pot of rice, cheesecake, macaroni and cheese, vegetables, bread, the whole nine yards. He'd only agreed to come with Goku to help find the dragon balls, to find his sense of adventure again; not be the cooking maid of S.S. Bound-for-Failure-Because-of-Two-Extremely-Lazy-Saiyans.
Okay, so Goku didn't necessarily know how to begin lighting a match, and Vegeta refused to do anything that remotely resembled housework, but it still wasn't fair. Where was Chi-Chi or his mother when he needed them?
Scratch that part about his mother being a help around the kitchen. For someone so intelligent, she was absolutely horrible at cooking. It perplexed him to no end. Gosh, even he knew that people put ricotta cheese in lasagna, not cream cheese. And any sane person knew that putting glue in cake batter just because they wanted to get rid of the tiny holes that would appear when the cake was done didn't fix anything. He grinned. Bra had gagged many a time because of the strange recipes their mother concocted. The strange thing was, if she didn't have anything else to do and was perfectly concentrated on the task, the meal would turn out absolutely fantastic.
Which rarely happened, of course. Bra and Trunks had had to learn to cook their own meals at times; and it was certain that all three of them (Vegeta included; he seemed to think that Bulma was trying to poison him intentionally) had developed a sort of immunity for Bulma's deadly foods.
The phone in the communications section of the spaceship began to ring. Trunks looked up wearily from the pot of soup, hoping that his father, or at least Goku would try to pick it up. However, he only heard an "Are you deaf, boy? Go answer the phone!" from Vegeta, so he moved to check it out.
Picking the phone up hesitantly, he wondered who the person could possibly be. "Hello? Oh, hey," he spoke casually, but at the same time excitedly, into the phone. "Haven't heard from you in ages - you sound different." He listened while the person responded. "Oh, okay. How's life been treating you? Uh-huh. Me, too. How're your parents? And how'd you know we were in space? Oh, my mom told you? Cool. Yeah, we found the first two dragon balls easily. They were both on the Moon, for goodness sake. But of course, the two Rulers of Lazinessville had to make me go out to get them while they sparred comfortably on the ship. As they always do… Hey, d'you think I'm too old to report for child abuse?"
His attention was turned when Goku and Vegeta both appeared in the room, looking hungry, curious, and impatient.
"Um, look, can you call back?" Trunks asked the person. He blanched as the individual raised his or her voice up quite audibly in protest. "I-I know I haven't exactly kept in touch, but we all lost contact! You think I've been hunky-dory with Goten all these years? We only re-met a week ago... No, I didn't mean to snap at you. Sorry. C'mon, my mom taught me better than that!" The person seemed a bit calmer. "See? Okay, well I hope to see you when we get back, too. 'Bye."
"Hey, who was that, Trunks?" Goku wondered, as Trunks slowly put the phone back into its receiver.
Trunks smiled inwardly as he stared absently into space. "Just an old friend."
At Chi-Chi's house...
"Son residence. Chi-Chi speaking! Who's calling?" the Son woman asked, picking the phone up on the second ring. She had just finished giving Goten his medicine, and it had been quite a struggle.
"Valese. Is Goten there?" a girlish voice requested from the other line.
Chi-Chi scowled. Not again. "Hold on," she snapped. "Goten!"
Goten zoomed down the stairs happily, having taken advantage of his mother's absence and spitting out the horrible medicine. He couldn't believe that his mother still had it in her head that the allergies could come back any second, no matter how much he tried to cajole her. "Who is it, Mom?"
"Who else?" she replied irritably. "If it isn't Gohan, Videl, or Bulma, it's Valese."
Goten shook his head and eagerly took the phone, while Chi-Chi waited impatiently. In a few minutes, however, he hung up, looking as pale as anything.
"What happened?" Chi-Chi asked her son. He shook his head, still in a daze, and took a seat at the kitchen table.
"Well, she, well..."
"Spit it out!"
"She broke up with me."
"She did? You guys are over? Yes! Yes!" Chi-Chi screamed happily. She jumped around the room in excitement, only causing her son more pain. A thought crossed her mind, however, and she stopped her wild jubilation. "Wait a second... What did you do to make her break up with you? It should've been you breaking up with her!"
"She said something about seeing someone at the mall. The person warned her about something. I don't even know what that has to do with me," Goten informed her morosely. "I had no idea Valese was superstitious."
"Who cares? She was two-timing you, anyway. Let's go into the city tomorrow. There's got to be a billion girls there with an IQ better than hers, at least," Chi-Chi suggested softly. No matter how furious she had been when he first began going out with Valese, she couldn't bear to see her youngest son so upset.
"I can't. Pan wants me to go visit her tomorrow," Goten told her, growing more depressed with each passing second. "I can't believe I thought Valese was the one."
"What? You couldn't have married her even if you wanted to," Chi-Chi snapped angrily. This was getting ridiculous. How long would it take for him to snap out if it? "I wouldn't have let you. She had too many past boyfriends. How about we wait until your father, Trunks, and Vegeta come back from space? They'd better find those dragon balls. Just to think he's a little kid again!" She began to cry.
Goten looked at his mother sympathetically. She was really vulnerable at this time, with Goku being a child and all. "How about we wait until after a few months? I'd get over Valese by then," he suggested.
"You're not over her yet?"
AND SO ENDS THE FIRST PART OF THE STRANGEST THING.
-Ending Note-: Before you even ask, no, this does not mean the end of the story. Would that make sense? It's just the ending of the first part. Perhaps during the second part, Bra will become wiser. And maybe there'll be more humor. And of course, the romance shall begin to blossom in the second part... Ahem. Back to my usual comments. Ah, the sweet smell of drama. So, Bra has a hidden temper, huh? Or maybe she just cracked. Either way, what a horrible way to end a seemingly perfect day at the mall! Was she just imagining the guy talking about her father, after all? And what does Pan have up her sleeve? Has Bra inadvertently caused the break-up of Valese and Goten? And just who was Trunks talking to? Find out this and more, in the next chapter!
Ladii-Chocolate