Earlier: Future Bulma has traveled to a small town, searching for the modest, hardworking loner whom the villagers fondly call "fisherman." Memories of what could have been torment Vegeta.
Time and calamity had not crushed the temple's edifice - or its spirit. Once inside, Bulma's gadgets spoke in tech languages that only she understood. The inner sanctuary appeared to be swept clean. A door to a rear corridor caught her eye. She braced herself for a fiery, less-than-enthusiastic welcome from the inhabitant, whenever he arrived. She "overlooked" telling Trunks about venturing into the belly of the beast, but given Vegeta's natural disposition toward reclusiveness, her choices were limited.
She became upset after seeing where he slept. The room and its contents were a step below a barn. He didn't seem to have anything there to keep him warm at night. Other chambers had fireplaces at least. Straw was bunched up against a wall, partially covered by a blanket that looked more like a burlap tarp.
She removed the scouter, crying softly into her palms. "Oh, Vegeta. No matter how angry, she wouldn't want this for you. She wouldn't want this."
"How in the hell would you know?" a jaded voice asked.
Bulma rigidly turned to face him, sniffling. "You have some massive balls to ask me that, Vegeta."
Vegeta grunted. "Tch. I didn't invite you here. You broke in, Bulma."
Feeling livelier, she replied, "You can call me Brooke, actually."
"The hell I will call you by that utterly absurd name!" he thundered, feeling fierier himself. "Unless you're having some kind of midlife crisis –"
Bulma's fists clenched. "Count backward from one hundred before you say something you'll regret, Saiyan. My temper isn't great."
"Then return to wherever you came from. You're a hallucination or someone's dark magic conjured to drive me insane, but I won't give in. You underestimate me."
"You just took a jab at my age, Vegeta. You're aware that I am flesh and blood and feel me standing here. But let's put that aside. When have you had a proper night's rest?"
Vegeta pivoted, leaving the room. "Return to your son. He had the right idea by not coming with you. Whatever you're looking for in me – whatever memories you're chasing – I am not the missing puzzle piece."
"You self-centered jerk," Bulma hissed. "The man I loved died. My memories of what we could have had were laid to rest with the slaughtered body I buried and headstone I carved. Then I moved on because I had a child to raise, on my own, in the middle of hell on Earth. I am not chasing one goddamn thing."
Vegeta's shoulders drooped as the strength in his voice faded. "Then why are you here?"
"Because, Vegeta, there are Saiyans who need you here - especially your baby boy."
"Tell me, 'Brooke,' did the man you loved look like a father to you? I sure as hell didn't to Bulma."
"You and I both know that's total bullshit. Neither of us were trying to force anything on anyone, but I know for a fact that the Bulma you loved believed you eventually could be a good father."
"Get out! Get out! Get out!" Vegeta ran up, shaking her left forearm. He could have easily carried her away, but they continued arguing until Bulma abruptly stopped. Ironically, both realized how much their row felt like a replay.
Bulma blinked, taking his other hand. Then she embraced him with as much power as she could. "It's OK."
Vegeta's frenzied panting lessened. He felt a lump in his throat. He didn't want to release this tenacious woman who was determined to beat back his lonesomeess. "No, it's not OK. It will never be OK. She's gone. I didn't say goodbye. Even Kakarot cared about my well-being. I don't understand any of it."
Warmth filled their quiet embrace. Vegeta pulled up, removing Bulma's hat. Life experience and perseverance made her even more breathtaking. He saw it all without Bulma having to say another word. Her eyes averted as he touched her cheek and lips.
"Please don't look away," he asked. "Please."
"I'm not her," Bulma said softly.
"And I'm not him," he replied, kissing her. "But there's enough of them in the both of us to matter."
Bulma hadn't felt a man's desirous touch in so very long. The next thing she knew, her hands had grabbed Vegeta's face, hungrily accepting his invitation. She smiled as his lips studied her neck's curves. His hands – oh those appreciative, strong hands – held the rounds of her backside. The friction of his hardness increased on her abdomen.
Vegeta's broad chest rose, keeping their senses heady and febrile. Bulma tried to reclaim some self-control, but the fisherman entered her body before she could, pushing and groaning, holding one hand against the wall. Bulma's arms folded around his neck as their heads touched. Trails of ecstasy-laden gasps followed.
Vegeta's eyes drank in all of it with the utmost pleasure. Bulma's head tipped back as their bodies rocked more forcefully with his thrusts. He wanted to bring her to pleasure more than he wanted his own, knowing that this would be the first and last time together. Bulma's fingers scraped his back as he drove deeper and deeper and deeper. Her shouts echoed down the corridor. After she climaxed, tears flowed as they kissed. Vegeta wiped hers until they stopped.
She sighed, rubbing his fingers. "I'm old enough to be like, um, your mother's youngest sister."
Vegeta took her hand, walking her to another room with a fireplace. "So you're going to torture me with unpleasant jokes too? If that's my fate, I will never set foot on Capsule Corporation's grounds or in Doc and Bunny's home again."
Sounds like he's warming to the idea of returning. Bulma tried to suppress her hope. "So you're not kicking me out your fortress, then?"
Vegeta kneeled to light a couple of logs. "I'm neither walking nor flying you back to town, so make yourself comfortable. I'll assume that you capsulized proper bedding for the evening."
Bulma proudly pounded on her chest. "I have extra bedding, in fact, if you'd like to substitute that horse-food mattress you're sleeping on now with something more comfortable."
Vegeta's hand waved, declining her offer. "I am fine with the horse fodder. I have some business to attend to now, though. I suggest you stay here. I feel snow coming."
Bulma checked notes on her watch, glancing up. "It's too early for that. The meteorologists say -"
"As long as I've lived on Earth, those weather hacks on TV have been correct less than forty percent of the time. The Bulma I knew had no patience for pretenders and consulted better scientific sources for greater accuracy – including those more in touch with nature, such as myself and other Saiyans."
"More in touch with nature?!" Bulma exclaimed with a giggle. "Oh my. You sound like one of those crank motivational speakers."
"Hn. Taunt me all you want, but I suggest recalling your relationship with Kakarot and his son - Saiyans."
"I don't need you to remind me of anything," Bulma said. "I know how much they loved the natural world, and they shouldn't have died the way they did. They deserved better than what life gave them. My son still mourns the Gohan who trained him, who loved him. I…did all I could to keep them alive."
"You did more than your best," Vegeta replied, departing from the room. "Building a time machine proved that. Don't mistake my observations for doubt, ever. I am not as obtuse as you may think."
"And you shouldn't make too many assumptions, Vegeta. Obtuse never crossed my mind – or ever will."
Asking Vegeta where he was going had crossed Bulma's mind, but this first success encouraged her. He had left seclusion, responding to a caring person. Being Bulma the elder helped, certainly, but she mostly credited her understanding the incomparable grief over losing one's lover too early. At times, Vegeta's antipathy toward admitting regret could be borderline pathological, but, in the case, his regrets dominated.
Bulma banged out a text to Trunks: "Hey handsome, tell Bunny and Doc that I found him. Love you, mom."
Trunks had expected more enthusiasm or even griping about Vegeta's attitude. He replied, "That's it? How is he?"
Bulma exhaled, hoping her son wouldn't henpeck when she really got old. Now she had to use the phone's voice-to-text function. "He's haggard and lonely, sweetheart, but he opened up to me. One step at a time, OK? I'm staying at his dwelling overnight."
Trunks's lips compressed. "You shouldn't."
Bulma understood his implicit warning. "I understand your concern. I am fine."
Trunks laid the phone on a coffee table, placing his hands over his eyes. Everyone had the best intentions, but he hoped Bulma wouldn't return home emotionally hurt. Father wouldn't be so stupid. He wouldn't take advantage of her. That's not the kind of fight he wants to start with me.
Bulma partly opened the double-window shutters, observing the overcast sky. Snowflakes spun like pinwheels in slow motion, sticking to the ground after their arrival. A few squat finches huddled together on a tree limb. The squirrels, true to their nature, remained busiest.
"Vegeta will give me an earful about this," she mumbled, latching the shutters. "Of course, he just had to be right."
Instead of venturing outside again, she made the room into another mini-retreat space, giving herself time to think about next steps. Sunset wouldn't appear for a while, but the heat from the fireplace relaxed her considerably. Vegeta accurately guessed that she would be napping by the time he arrived. He peeked inside, amused by the ball Bulma's body had curled into. A book sat unfolded beside her.
Already, having her near relieved some of his depression, but she'd have to leave. He couldn't attach himself to the Brief family again. They were joyful, open-hearted people. What did he have to give them or the other Saiyan children? Anger, restlessness, sadness, frustration, and a lack of direction. He wanted no part of their lives. He opened his haversack, inspecting the food he planned to make for dinner. The fare would be simple – root vegetables, fish, tea and sweet steamed buns for Bulma's dessert. He never took any when the chef at Cherry Blossom offered, but this time he flew into town for some.
Luna was genuinely honored, bowing as he tried to pay her. "You can have them whenever you want, free of charge. Thank you for allowing me to do something for you."
Vegeta bowed quickly, hurrying out of the kitchen's side entrance. Luna grinned as her husband surprised her with a cuddle from behind. Other workers laughed at the lighthearted couple's antics.
"Darling, something is afoot," she told him. "Fisherman didn't smile, but he carried no frown either. He was also very serious about choosing the buns."
Her husband led her outside. "Interesting. The first time I gave you buns, I declared my love for you."
Bulma found her way into the old kitchen, following the tempting aroma from herbs added to the vegetables and fish. Vegeta, who had his fill of food, brought a plate to her.
"Thank you. This looks and smells marvelous."
Vegeta nodded, opening the box of buns and wiping his mouth. "I have been behind in my work, so I'll start early tomorrow."
"You're planning to retire to bed now?" Bulma asked, sounding disappointed. "At least you can have a sweet or two with me."
"I don't eat them. When you're ready, there is hot water for tea."
"Vegeta –"
Vegeta stood, returning to the hearth. "I know that this structure and the forest relax you, so you're welcome to stay another day. But then you must leave. My life in West City is over."
Bulma took a bite of her vegetables. "Tell me why have you stayed on Earth then? Doc would have given you another spaceship had you insisted – despite any protest from Bunny. You could be anonymous just about anywhere now that Frieza's force is gone."
Irked, Vegeta faced her. "You're correct, Bulma. I can be a nobody just about anywhere, which means it doesn't matter where I roam. So, staying here is just as good as being someplace else.
Bulma put down her fork. "I didn't call you a nobody."
Vegeta's arms spread wide. "Look at me. I'm indigent, but the people here don't look down on that. They seek ways to honor me, even when I don't invite their companionship. They accept what I can offer to earn my way. When my mind is unclear and I struggle… and hear and see things that they don't, no one is frightened - mostly. They just let me be. They do not judge."
"Have you considered that their reaction says something good about you, Vegeta? Anything at all? Look at how the children gravitate toward you."
"You're not listening!" he protested. "Maybe you should leave tomorrow instead."
"Nope," Bulma said, inspecting the box of buns. "Too late to rescind the invitation. I can't eat these and not exercise. You're skilled enough to tell me how I can avoid breaking my legs while you're gone."
"I'm politely offering the opportunity to leave on your own, woman," Vegeta warned. "You know how I am when I'm not so polite."
Bulma laughed, enjoying more of her meal. "Boy, do I ever! Oh my god. Oooh. This fish is beyond delectable, Vegeta! Who taught you to cook like this?"
Vegeta closed his eyes, squashing a cloth in his hand. "How does Trunks not go mad?"
Bulma leaned in, whispering, "I'll tell you a secret. He's a mama's boy to his core."
Vegeta inhaled, lifting his chest. "Indeed, he is, and how I cook is none of your fucking business."
Bulma had to deploy advanced weaponry. Her baby blue eyes widened, resembling an abandoned kitten. "Please don't go. I really like talking with you. Tell me about the work you do or what you like here in the forest. The snow looks gorgeous."
Resigned to Bulma's skilled attack, Vegeta shook his head. "Licorice or peppermint tea later?"
"Licorice sounds yummy," she said, bagging her second big win.
Bulma finally lost her steam past two a.m., heavy-eyed and yawning. Vegeta leaned back, stretching his legs under the table. All the sweet buns had been eaten, devoured by both.
"Well," he said, "have I passed your interrogation effectively? I even ate the buns."
"Whatever," Bulma replied. "You foolishly deprive yourself. Bunny makes a ton of them."
"Honestly, woman, you are like a bear with a slab of meat. I'm not going back. I shouldn't have to ask you to respect my wishes anymore. You've received much more latitude to pester me than anyone would normally receive. Your son did not come for a reason, because he knows."
Bulma was uncertain. Vegeta's points were valid. Despite their rocky introduction, he'd opened his home and himself to her. He had the right to live freely. His young son lived in a loving household and, according to Vegeta's perspective, was better off without him. The boy didn't need a father prone to depression and fits of pique that he might not understand, the prince believed. Worse, the boy might reject his Saiyan heritage, and thus cast off his father's influence.
A tree crashed to the ground, startling them. Bulma rushed to a window, but Vegeta did not. Paralysis took hold, but his heart raced as a vision invaded his mind. An airplane's motor invaded his eardrums, gears grinding. A burst of smoke and fire after the plane's impact on a mountain. At the bottom were Bulma and their infant son, rescued by the teenager from the future. Vegeta wouldn't have been able to save her. His thoughts were on Dr. Gero's mockery and winning multiple fights at all costs. He would have been too late to save her.
Harsh words followed that could never be taken back, angering the teenager. Vegeta said he didn't care about them, but he did. Why should he care when she didn't keep herself or their son safe? But he loved her. She wasn't trying to hurt him. He would've been too late to help. Shame almost broke through then, but he couldn't allow that. Winning at all costs had to mean something because life had dealt its fair share of losing hands.
Bulma turned, wondering why he hadn't joined her. "Vegeta? Are you OK?"
His eyes were more vacant. He hadn't heard the person in near him, just the woman who died before he could say goodbye. He walked back and forth, talking to himself. "Forgive me. I'm sorry."
Oh god. He's hallucinating. Bulma lowered her voice, carefully stepping closer. She knew not to touch him, but she had to act quickly before his dissociation became more extreme. "Listen to my voice, Vegeta. You're having a flashback. I'm all right. It's Bulma. I'm standing right here. We just had dinner. You cooked for me here at the temple, where you live now."
Vegeta's hands shook as her soft voice gradually brought him back. He sat on the floor after about an hour, staring at the space between his hips. Bulma had moved beside him, eventually feeling ready to touch him. She placed his head on her shoulder, holding his waist. She hadn't expected him to cry, not like she had done earlier, but he did.
"You see why I can't go back now?" he asked. "I'm not what I was. I thought ascending as a Saiyan would at least be fulfilling – and so much of it was – but I didn't ask for everything else. Love? A child? I am a terrible person. She knew that, and you do too. "
"You're not well," Bulma said gently. "We need to get you better. You need a break from what you're doing. I should have stopped yakking earlier. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. I wouldn't have slept through the night anyway."
"I'll stay here a few more days."
Vegeta's hand rested on her knee. "No, you will not. Both of our relationships began this way, with Bulma caring for Vegeta. It's time you let others look after you. You deserve that – and so much more."
Bulma nodded, crying. "Thank you."
Vegeta kissed her head. "Thank you… Brooke."
Bulma cracked up with laughter, hugging him. "Rogue."
With a clever smile, Vegeta looked around the room, "What did I say?"
Bulma chose not to stay longer, allowing Vegeta to fly her to the edge of town. Snow dust still covered the ground, but she persuaded him that she could walk alone – and had some badass boots to prove it.
She held his forearms, gazing into his eyes. "Our door is always open, fisherman."
Vegeta stepped backward, rotating to take flight. "Take good care of the boy – I mean, our boys."
After another night at Cherry Blossom, Bulma kept her pledge, finding Haru and Hana to confirm her safety. The children expressed sadness that Vegeta wasn't leaving with her, but they promised "to take good care of him."
Unsurprising to Bulma, word spread that the friendly female visitor may have had a special interest in a Blue Oak resident. On Bulma's last day at the inn, Luna stopped by the front desk, handing her a box of sweet buns.
"It's been a pleasure having you here," she said. "Please do return."
"I hope to," Bulma replied.
The woman reached for a hug, whispering, "My husband and I will look after fisherman. I promise you."
Bulma became emotional, "Thank you."
This time, Dr. Brief flew to retrieve her. He left the plane, holding his arms open, knowing exactly what Bulma needed.
"Some situations are universal," he said as she sobbed on his shoulders. "I guess this was much harder than we all anticipated, except Trunks."
"I'm not trying to be with him, Doc. I didn't go there for that. He's not the man I loved. I just wanted him to rethink leaving his son and our home."
"I know, sweetheart. You just have a big heart. That's all. Doesn't matter which Vegeta you're dealing with. That connection is strong, just like it is for my big grandson."
"He's not well."
"But he will be," Doc said with conviction, escorting her to the plane.
"You don't know that."
"Vegeta has more than enough reasons to keep himself and this planet safe, especially now that you're here. Don't undervalue that. You took a huge risk by searching for him. That is worthy of respect. A solid foundation for friendship is there, my dear."
A year later, little Trunks had Son Gohan on the run in the Briefs' sprawling back yard. Gohan looked forward to watching his baby brother reach this stage. By age five, Trunks would likely be well on the road to demonstrating high intelligence, much like his parents and Gohan did.
Gohan sensed another's ki from the opposite direction, near a group of trees. He held the chattering Trunks behind him protectively. All sorts of mortals used dirty tricks. He had to be sure about the person.
"It's me, boy," Vegeta said sternly. "After all that fighting, I'm appalled over your reaction time, especially with the child there. What you're doing doesn't resemble training at all."
Gohan smiled, respectfully bowing. "There is a time for everything, Vegeta. We must choose wisely. Being happy is important too."
Vegeta's arms crossed. "Hn."
Gohan brought Trunks forward, whose eyes enlarged. The muscular, unsmiling man looked down, raising his brow. Trunks mimicked his father's appearance, including Vegeta's arm position. Gohan tried not to laugh, but the exchange was adorable. Then Vegeta kneeled, balling his fist.
"Just what in the hell are you doing?" Gohan asked. Having been the recipient of Vegeta's internal-organ-destroying punches, the boy's discomfort meter hit the roof.
"Quiet, kid," Vegeta said. "I'm working. This is between me and the boy. You're cursing has improved, though."
Gohan sped between the two. "Fight me!"
Grinning, Vegeta replied, "About time you asked."
Trunks scooted around Gohan unexpectedly, landing a punch on his father's knuckles. Vegeta's eyes flipped up, observing his son's glaring playmate.
Gohan inhaled. "You are such an asshole."
"His form is good. Still, you're holding back with him more than you should. Neither Kakarot nor the Namekian spared you…too much."
Gohan's eyes almost rolled out of their sockets. "Well, maybe it's time for you to play with him. Just make sure he's still able to have children when he reaches adulthood. Pick him up."
Trunks yanked on Vegeta's pants, expecting more attention. He had stopped talking, though Gohan couldn't understand why.
"He doesn't need that from me," Vegeta said.
"You've been absent for a while," Gohan said. "You need this just as much as he does. I'll leave soon, but you should know something first."
Vegeta didn't like the boy's tone. "What?"
"I'm here because the family is with Bulma at the hospital. She had an accident a week ago. She's made it through the bodily injuries but caught an infection."
Enraged and scared, Vegeta had to calm himself. "How bad, Gohan?"
"Just go see them - and try not to be too angry, because I know you are."
Vegeta's eyes closed. "Don't tell me how to feel."
"She asked everyone not to tell you, Vegeta. She was very serious, but I think Trunks was on the verge of finding you anyway. You just got here first."
Vegeta reflected, finally picking up his son. "I'll go." Trunks's smile enlarged as his father patted his head. "Here. Take him inside. I can tell he's hungry. That's why you're not talking, right, Trunks? I know that game." Gohan bowed, holding the boy's hand.
Trunks waved cheerfully as his father raced to the hospital. "Bye! Come back."
Doc, Bunny and Trunks heard an argument at the nurse's station a few doors down from Bulma's room. Trunks eyed his father's appearance: beard, work shoes, and tan trousers and a shirt. His clothes were clean, but those around him were unmistakably awkward. Guards hired by the family were approaching.
"Everyone, he's family," Trunks said. "It's all right. Just arrived from out of town. Great to see you."
Vegeta nodded. "You too. Gohan told me."
"I guess he had little choice," Trunks said, inviting him into the room. "I would have."
"Really?" Vegeta said soberly. "You haven't so far."
"Father, let's say you were in mom's condition. It would be just as difficult not to follow your wishes, but you're here now. I am more than glad to see how much you care."
All smiles, Doc and Bunny amiably welcomed him. Doc stood, offering his seat, then motioned for Bunny to leave with him. Trunks waited a few minutes, checking the monitors before exiting.
"Take all the time you need," he said. "I'll return after eating with my grandparents."
All the drugs kept Bulma sleepy, but she withstood the effects, speaking with her family as much as she could. Recognizing Vegeta was easy.
Her hand reached for his, which he held. "I told…told them not to say anything."
"Doesn't matter who said," he replied. "How are you feeling?"
Bulma laughed slowly. "Like hell is trying…trying to tell me something about my wretched life."
"Don't take offense, but I think I have a one-up on you about hell. Then again, maybe not."
"How are you, Vegeta? Really."
Vegeta stroked her hair. "Remember what I said about taking care of me? This isn't the time. I'm well. I came here to tell you that."
"So we're friends now?"
"Always," Vegeta said as his eyes reddened. "Always."
"Don't be angry with my son. He does care for you."
"I know. He has much good in him. Accepting his generosity is just hard for me."
"If you can accept mine, then you can accept his."
"You should rest now, Bulma."
"Wait. I want you to promise me something."
Vegeta held her hand tighter. "I can't."
"Yes, you can, Vegeta. This is your chance…chance to do what my Vegeta couldn't. He said… said he'd return to help raise our son, no matter what happened between us. Free yourself of the guilt over her, please."
Vegeta continued to caress Bulma, helping her sleep. "Please just rest. We all need you here."
After they had sex, he vowed never to touch her again. But she was all he thought about over the past year. She was Bulma – both different and similar. Falling in love again had not been in the plan, but now…
He held her hand on his forehead. Whatever happens, I promise. But I know your health will return because I want you to see what you've hoped for, and what she hoped for.
Trunks, who left his phone in the room, watched them from the observation window. Anyone perceptive enough could see what the fisherman felt. Though protective of his mother, Trunks resolved that if Bulma fell in love with the Saiyan prince, he wouldn't stand in the way of their happiness.
She deserved that – and so much more.
Thank you for reading! Future Bulma is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoyed this tale about her. Please take a moment to leave a comment.
