Here we go! Enjoy!
Vegeta:
"Heya Bulma!," Kakarot says.
He struts right up to my wife with his hands on his hips. His youngest dawdles behind him, wisely apprehensive of Tarble and Gure- stranger danger. Congratulations Kid; I'm happy to conclude you, like Gohan, may have missed out on the clown-gene. Perhaps common sense has trickled down your bloodline from Chi-Chi.
Goten runs to join Trunks and Adelia in the grass below the deck.
"Son-kun!," Bulma greets Goku.
Oh woman, I know this friend from childhood holds many bearings on your heart. I'm confident it's a friendly fancy and nothing more, but watching you drape your arm around Kakarot's shoulder and thump his back makes my gut churn.
The lawn chair squeaks beneath Kakarot's weight. He sits with his legs crossed beneath his ass rather than lounging back. He was the odd man out next to Bulma and our uninvited visitors. Of course, he indulges in their hapless chatter about life off this Earth. The children galivant on the garden lawn oblivious to the rest of the world.
POV Change:
Trunks swings his wooden prop sword. Goten dodges the sharp movements with great focus. Adelia zig-zags between them, cutting them off with harping giggles. They tip-toe around her and keep going without missing a beat.
Goten paused after sliding to the left, forgetting his task for a moment.
"Oh crap!," Trunks cries as he was unable divert the blow. The sword wacked Goten's head, right down the middle, parting his black hair.
"Be careful, please!," Bulma calls out, responding to the hollow thud echoing across the lawn.
"That hurt," Goten whines and rubs his head.
"Sorry, you're slow," Trunks teases him.
Adelia toddles between the two boys, milling around in the fresh spring grass. She grabs the stem of a dandelion with both hands. It's hairy stalk stains her small fingers yellow. The bulbous bloom is bigger than her fist.
"Dower," she pipes up.
She offers Goten the common garden weed like it is priceless and fine, something never cultivated by human hands.
"Awe, thank you," Goten titters over her before turning to Trunks, "Where did she come from?"
"Like I said," Trunks offers a bit confused, "She's my cousin."
"You told me that. Like where did she come from? Cause…,"
"Dude… Ew. I don't know. Like I'm going to go up to my uncle and be like 'so, I know we've only met once before, but uh is your daughter adopted cause she's like a totally different species than you.'"
"You don't have to be mean," Goten adds.
"Well, you don't have to be rude either."
"Okay, fine," Goten groans.
Goten pauses the conversation. He watches Trunks accept another dandelion from the strange little alien girl. The older boy squatted over his knees to get an eye level with her.
"They're yellow," Trunks murmurs with a smile, "Watch this."
Trunks plucks all the little golden petals off the flowers head and rains them down over the small girl. Her face glows beneath the sun's peaking rays as her thin brows climb high above her wide set eyes.
"Ah-way!," she cries, with delight coloring her cheeks.
"Oh wow!," Trunks copies her, "Again?"
She hops up and down as the petals danced around her. An idea rears itself in Goten's brain.
"Hey Trunks, you got like a sand bucket or something?," Goten asks.
"No-why?," Trunks says.
"We could pick a bunch for her and let her jump in 'em."
"Hold up. I've got a better idea."
Trunks leads Goten over to the gate of the garden wall. It's tall, a few inches higher than their heads and made from varnished oak. Shiny black rivets mark its hinges. Trunks reaches over the gate and pulls the lever. The restraining metal latch pops down. He swings the heavy door back with Adelia hot on his heels. Trunks gives the curious girl a calculated glance saying, "No Delly, stay here. We'll come right back."
Goten follows Trunks through the gate, leaving Adelia after she reoccupied herself with the flowers, turning her back to them at last.
Trunks makes a beeline toward his grandmother's storage shed, carefully crossing the asphalt delivery bay.
"Wait a second Trunks," Goten says in an accusatory tone.
"I'm not getting on another delivery ship. Monaka about froze us to death. I was grounded for a week!"
"Oh chill out," Trunks says, rolling his eyes, "We're just gonna grab Grammy's wheel barrel. Come on."
Goten allows relief to wash over him. He follows Trunks, right into the shed. Flower boxes score the bottom of the shed's windows. A flush grey tin roof caps the building. A scrunched up water hose is wound round and round a thick wooden wheel mounted to the covered porch. White and red tulips spill from the edges of the flower boxes.
This looks like a little play house- not a shed, Goten thinks as Turnks shuffles around the things inside.
"What color is it?," Goten asks, eager to help.
"Red," Trunks says as he moves clay garden pots and 10-gallon cans of paint.
The choppy whirl of diesel engines and delivery ships rumble the nuts and bolts shelved in glass mason jars. Trunks is immune to the sound, so used to the coming and going of the loud, ever busy corporation that his mother runs. Lacking this conditioning, Goten's shoulders roll toward his ears. He turns back, looking through the shed door.
"Trunks!"
Goten clutches the older boy's shoulder and wrenches him around. In a millisecond, dread fills their hearts. Trunks lunges through the shed door. Before he can exhale, let alone think, he dashes toward the miniscule figure standing in the road. Delly stands there, toting Trunks' wooden sword with both hands, like it's a cumbersome piece of luggage rather than a plaything. An innocent, unaware smile squiggles onto her mouth.
Trunks envelopes her in his arms. Her mouth moves, but the roar of the delivery ship's engine drowns our her voice. He turns his back to the vessel barreling toward them. He knows it's too late, already being swallowed by its shadow; he squeezes her tight.
The sound of crumpling metal opens Trunks' eyes. The ships' carapace is caved around them, dented by his father's back. The untouched children look up at the panting Saiyan. The blue glow leaves Vegeta's hair. His eyes fade back to sharp obsidian. A stern grimace cuts Trunks to the core.
A chubby man wearing brown slacks skids to a stop next to them. He holds onto the bill of his hat as he huffs and puffs.
"Are you okay?," The driver asks out of breath.
"Fine," Vegeta scolds him, "Now get this hunk of crap out of here!"
The driver heeds Vegeta, running off to restart the vessel and back it up.
"Geta!," Adelia happily says.
"And you," Vegeta turns his attention to Trunks," I told you to look after her," he seeths.
"Dad, I tried," Trunks speaks up.
"Tried- tried to what? Get yourself killed?! You left the gate open. How many times have I told you-"
"I didn-," Trunks interjects.
"Don't interrupt me boy!," Vegeta yells at him red faced, "Instead of your stupid dog this time it would have been her!"
Tears well up in Trunks' eyes. They threaten to spill over, overwhelmed with looming embarrassment. Anger gnaws at his olive cheeks.
"I was trying to help her!," Trunks explodes, "She would have been okay."
"But you wouldn't," Vegeta says.
"And You don't listen."
"Son, Look at me. Look at me!," Vegeta said as Trunks reluctantly raises his gaze, "You are responsible for this. Your mother can pay for the ship damages, but her money can't buy back the dead!"
"I'm sorry," Trunks says bitterly.
"Sorry doesn't cut it. It can't put you or her in one piece again."
"Vegeta- sama," Goten's voice cuts him off, "Trunks didn't leave the gate open. I did."
Vegeta pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes.
Of course, Vegeta thinks as Tarble and Gure's clamoring voices arrive.
Gure runs through the open garden gate. She snatches Adelia from Trunks. She and Tarble frantically look the girl over- not a scratch to be found. Gure bows to Vegeta, collapsing to her shins.
"How can we ever thank you?," she rattles with an unmistakable tremor in her voice.
He bows back to her quickly and tries to tame his straining vocal chords, "Don't mention it," he keeps it short and to the point.
"Wow, Vegeta, you're super-fast," Goku says.
For a moment, Vegeta forgot his rival-turned-friend is even present. Goku and Bulma stand behind Adelia's doting parents. Goku scratches the back of his head, a lingering nervous tic from his childhood. He smiles with the hope of smoothing over some of the palpable tension. The always-approachable-Goku became stiff as he eye-balls his apprehensive son. Goten knows 'a talk' with his dad is coming. He considers it manageable as long as Chi-Chi isn't involved. He prays that his father sees fit to keep it between themselves.
Bulma stands tight lipped with her arms folded across her chest. She is clearly vexed; an irritated frown dimples her face.
"Er-oh ready to go Vegeta?," Goku says, desperate to escape.
"Now wait a second," Bulma starts, "First, you owe Trunks an apology!," Bulma confronts her husband, "And why didn't you just use instant transmission or whatever it is!," she yells at Goku.
"Later Bulma- Later," Vegeta sighs as he forces himself to slap his hand on Goku's shoulder, ignoring the sweat beading on his forehead.
"Oh you're not getting out of this," she adds.
Goku startles Tarble, touching the back of his arm. They vanish without a trace, like a glitch in reality itself, while Goku's nervous giggle echoed off the asphalt.
This chapter was actually really hard to write due to the narration change. I hope it doesn't make things too confusing. Normally, in these situations I don't even consider POV changes if I have concerns about clarity, but this seemed like the best option. Let me know what you think. I wanted to be able to give a little more insight for what was going on in the boys' heads.