Hello! It's so good to be back. This story has been in the works for a VERY long time. I'm so excited to publish the precursor to some of my other fanfics. If you have not read Lust and the Kawaii Kitty or Lay that Child Down, I recommend checking them out at some point, just to make this story flow easier. This is the first in an installment series to describe the events of Bulla's life. As always, thank you for reading. Please feel free to leave a review or constructive feedback. Your thoughts are aways helpful and make the process more worthwhile. I am also open to PMs. I want to become a better writer, so feedback on character, plot, and specific scenes are super hepful.
WARNING: coarse language, adult themes, intense and grusome scenarios, graphic unconsented sexual content, suicidal ideation. Please do not continue if you you are triggered by any of the named content. Some material may be triggering for sexual abuse survivors or victims of human trafficing.
He drummed his fingers on the park bench, matching their unhurried footsteps. His clothes were unsullied despite the long journey. He looked around, watching people scurry about their business unbothered by his presence. To them, he was just another man waiting to go home after a long day's work. Two girls, in particular, demanded his attention, and their bouncy locks of hair kept his silent interest. Regret blazed in his chest, burning through his flesh like a lump of hot coal. They were young, and worst of all, they were unsuspecting and blind to their surroundings.
Marron froze. Her grey bike leaned on her thigh. The cool metal pressed into her sweaty skin. Gold evening light weaved into her blonde hair. She stood mesmerized by the fading peach sky. Creamy yellows dolloped the sky like scoops of vanilla ice cream melting in a blue bowl under the summer sun.
"Bulla," Marron said.
"Yeah?"
Bulla stopped in her tracks. She turned on her heels and looked over her shoulder at Marron, breaking her attention from the man on the park bench. Bulla thought he looked like a sweaty wax figure, just subtly human. Her hands clamped the straps of her sagging, burgundy-crocheted backpack. A white puffy keychain dangled down her skirt. Marron often imagined it was a white fairy following Bulla around, trying to keep her out of trouble.
"You okay?," Marron asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just being weird I guess," Bulla said.
"Um, okay, like that tells me anything."
"Have you ever heard of the uncanny valley, Marron?"
"I don't think so. What is it?"
"Never mind," Bulla shook her head, feeling silly about the whole thing, "What were you going to say?"
"What's it like up there?," Marron asked as they started walking again.
"Where?," Bulla asked.
"In the sky."
"Windy, bumpy- wait, you've flown before."
"Not like you and Pan," Marron explained.
"I want to know what it's like outside of a hover car."
"Your parents have never flown with you?"
"Nope."
"Your dad- nobody?," Bulla said.
"No."
"Well, it's either freezing cold or you're roasting. You can kiss your ironed clothes, and prom-queen hair goodbye. The wind blowing in your ears can be loud. Sometimes it's hard to breath, depending on how thin the air is and where you're going."
"That's a downer. I guess I thought it would be more fun," Marron said.
"It is," Bulla said, "I just can't tell you that," she laughed.
"Here's my stop," Marron said.
Marron and Bulla stopped in front of the West Sky Lounge Condos. The tall buildings kissed the twilight sky. The luxury condos were shaped like tall cylinders. Round glass windows spiraled up the buildings like all seeing eyes over the rest of the neighborhood. Marron waved goodbye and walked toward the automatic doors. An uneasy nerve pinched her stomach, turning her around.
"Hey," She said at the last second, "Why don't you come in? Dad could give you a ride to your Grammy's."
Marron leaned toward Bulla, like she was about to spew West City's most well-kept secret. Bulla leaned in, like a tall distorted mirrored image.
"We can pig out on the doughnuts dad brought home this morning. Don't let him lie to you," She winked, "The stereotype is true; cops love doughnuts."
"Awe thanks," Bulla said after a quiet smile, "But, I'll go ahead and jet. Grammy's shop is just a few blocks from here. I've gotta work tonight anyway. The sooner I get done, the better."
"Come on, Bulla-Chan. Can't it wait. Those cactuses and shit will still be dry and crusty in a few hours."
"Don't speak to me, or my cactus babies, ever again," Bulla feigned, "No really, babe, I gotta go," She said wrinkling her nose.
"Oh crap, wait, I really need you to come up and grab Pan's half of the physics project. You'll see Goku tomorrow, right? He can take it to her."
"Sure, I guess so," Bulla said as she followed Marron into the lobby.
Hook, line, and sinker, Marron thought.
The doorman welcomed Marron with a deadpan greeting as she flashed her ID before his squinted eyes. They brushed past him and passed countless other residents piddling in their mailboxes. Marron flashed her key fob to call the elevator. The doors opened with a chime. Bulla's dark blue eyes settled on the round doorman's back. His heightened pitch prickled her skin with goosebumps.
"No ID. No admittance- No ID, no admission," The doorman hummed over another mumbling male voice.
Some poor schlub who forgot his door pass, Bulla reassured herself.
"Let's go nosey," Marron said, pulling Bulla into the elevator by her school uniform's green tie. Bulla straightened her ruffled checkered skirt. She ripped her blue curls out of her bun and allowed the thick tangle to fall down her back. Marron eye-balled Bulla's hair.
"Don't judge," Bulla said, "I ran out of time straightening it this morning."
The jealous edge of Bulla's voice was tempered with good humor. Bulla closed her eyes and poked out her tongue before folding her arms across her chest. The chiming elevator drew Bulla's eyes to the glowing buttons.
"Don't you live on the 9th floor?," Bulla asked.
Marron's brown eyes cut through the silence. An expecting grin curled her lips. The elevator dinged to a stop.
"Rooftop," The elevator's robotic voice hummed.
"Sometimes, I think you're too observant, you know that? But, about that…," Marron said, grinding her voice into a nasally squeak. She snatched Bulla's arm and tugged her out of the elevator.
"Surprise!"
Marron and Pan clapped their hands.
"I told you her ears get red when she's embarrassed, "Pan giggled, "Happy going away party, Bulla."
Bulla felt happy yet traped and duped all at once. Their kindness flattered her, but her stomach churned from her own cluelessness. Night fell after two hours of chatting, binging YouTube and Tik-Toc videos. They bloated themselves with pizza, cheese puffs, and of course- doughnuts. Bulla looked at the stars twinkling above their heads. Her mind drifted to strange planets with excitement and mystery lurking around every burning star and black hole. She knew space had been romanticized by her mother and brother. She couldn't help but think of the cold vacuum, the suffocating darkness, and the eerie silence described by her father.
"Are you excited Bulla?," Pan said, bringing her to reality.
"Yeah, I think so," Bulla said.
Her response was an enthusiastic, incomplete truth.
"I can't wait to decorate my dorm," Bulla said.
True, she thought.
"I can't wait to learn about Italy."
False.
"The cooking will be fantastic. My dorm is near an open-air market. Tikka, and I plan on going there often since it's within walking distance."
True.
"Oh, I didn't know that Tikka Patcha got the other spot," Pan said, "I didn't know that you guys were all that close."
"Well, we're really not. I think she's fun, and she seems nice enough, but I really don't know her that well," Bulla said.
True.
"You're hella brave for that. Only you would agree to live with someone for a whole semester that you don't know," Marron said.
"Or, hella dumb, "Pan teased her between stuffing her face, "No really, couldn't you get your own dorm or something?"
"So, I've worked hard for the last year to save my money so I could get my own place, but the admission team wouldn't go for it. They called my mom and made a big deal about it. They told her that the spots are academically based and if we start throwing money around that it would raise eyebrows. Basically, everyone else will think that mom bought my way in. I've gotta be incognito. I even sent them my paycheck stubs to show them that I earned the money, but they didn't even bother to reply to me," Bulla remarked.
Very True.
"Well that sucks,"Marron began, "So, what are you going to do with the cash that you saved up?"
"I hope to hop between countries during long weekends. Learning to speak Latin is going to be amazing. The romance languages will make much more sense. I want to try to take the train to see the country sides, maybe I'll meet some cool people," Bulla said.
"Some cool people," Marron copied the inflections in Bulla's voice and jabbed Pan with her elbow, "What about a cool guy?"
Bulla rolled her eyes, "Yeah, maybe I'll meet some rando and he'll have a perfect German accent, and we'll make out- sure," Bulla said with dry sarcasm.
"Bulla Briefs talking about boys," Marron hushed her, "I've never-"
"Oh, cut it out," Bulla furrowed her brows while Pan crammed half eaten pizza crust into her mouth and marron nibbled on a cheese puff. Pan forced her food down with a gassy belch and said, "You know, she's too private to tell us about it, Marron."
"Privacy?," Bulla questioned, "Who needs privacy when it's just me, a Rosetta Stone tape, and a vibrator."
Orange soda spewed from Marron's mouth. Pan chocked back her cheesy puffs to avoid strangling in her own well pleased laughter.
"And," Bulla cleared her throat from laughing, "First of all, it's none of you douche-queens business who I have relations with-"
"Relations?," Pan mocked her tone.
"Shut up pan," Bulla giggled, "I'm just not worried about that sort of stuff yet. I'm 15 years old. I'm not an old maid."
"You're a cat-mom though," Marron giggled, "And sort of a prude."
"Well, look blondie," Bulla smiled at Marron, "Not everyone can be Ms. full-face O' make up, hot stuff, pretty in pink every day. So be it, I'll be a smart, prudish cat lady, who will get to lay on the beach and stuff her face with Italian bread every day. Besides, we're too young to be worried about dick."
"Ditto," Pan said.
"You guys are weirdos," Marron yawned. She batted her soft brown eyes and stretched out on her lawn chair.
"You know," Pan began, "My dad says that Saiyans don't think about relationships the same way humans do."
"See, it's genetic," Bulla said to Marron, "I'm going to miss you guys," she finished, looping her arm beneath Marron's elbow.
"Hey, Pan, we should show Marron how weird we are," Bulla said tightly clenching Marron's arm.
Pan stared at Bulla with her blank black eyes. Bulla bounced her brows up and down and said, "If you're up to it."
"Totally," Pan replied as a smile crept onto her face.
"Bulla and Pan lifted Marron up, twirling into the sky. Marron's pink tennis shoes kicked the air. Her face was red, and her mouth speechless. Pan's wispy black hair tickled Marron's shoulder.
"Look, Marron- Chan, this is what it's like," Bulla hummed over the wind.
"Marron's breath became quiet, and the city lights below glowed on her pale face. People went about their business below, like tiny termites carving their way through the wall of a house, blissfully ignorant of the great big world out there.
"Look at them go," Marron said.
"This city never sleeps. Come to Mt. Paos at grandpa's and I'll show you a peaceful night," Pan said.
"You think they can hear us," Marron wondered.
"They don't know anything. It's better this way, "Bulla said.
Pan and Marron snapped their heads to Bulla's voice. Pan traced the shadows of Bulla's high cheeks. Her blue eyes seemed tired and chiseled into her face. Pan thought of ocean blue, but not the pretty shades of aqua and green, like at Kame House. She thought of the deep places where ocean creatures creeped and crawled. Bulla's eyes were like the trenches too deep for the light to penetrate it.
"Put her down this instant," a cutting voice said.
Shock zipped up Bulla's spine. Pan turned her head to the deep familiar tone.
"Daddy?," Bulla gasped.
"Both of you put her down this instant. If you were to drop her, you would shatter every bone in her body," Vegeta instructed.
Pan winced at the raspy tone of his voice. He was the only person other than her grandmother, Chi-Chi, who's words could cut through her gut like butter, without raising his voice at all. Bulla and Pan, safely delivered Marron back to the roof top. Vegeta hovered in the air above them, like a rogue black party balloon.
"Come Eschalot," he called Bulla.
Bulla wrapped her arms around Marron's neck, then quickly did the same to Pan.
"Bye till later babes," Bulla waved.
"Wait, don't forget Poindexter," Pan reminded.
Bulla ripped the potted plant off the glass table and joined her father in the sky. She glanced over her shoulder at her friends.
"You too Pan. Let's go," Vegeta said.
Pan quietly followed suit. Without a word, Vegeta turned and bolted toward the South. Pan and Bulla hovered behind them, keeping up with his brisk pace. Bulla clutched the potted plant to her chest. She looked down at the shriveled little bonsai tree, twisting round and round its modest clay pot. The crudely glued on pink foam letters kept snagging her green suit jacket. Pink glitter flaked onto her white blouse.
A content smile curled Bulla's lips. Pan took notice. Bulla's gaze met Pan's kind, dark eyes. Bulla thought Pan was a spitting image of her scholar father from her Son smile to how her black bobbed hair blows in the wind in soft feathery pieces. Bulla's eyes fell as she thought of her own clumsy dark chunks of hair flailing in the wind.
"We picked a scraggly one," Pan said, "So you can work your magic-plant-sorcery on it."
The girls laughter came to an abrupt stop. Bulla nearly crashed into her father's back. Vegeta halfway looked over his shoulder and nodded to the brick house below.
"Go home," he said.
Pan's head drooped at his cold, flat words. She didn't dare to make eye contact.
"Thank you for making sure I got here, okay, Vegeta-Sama," She said with a quick bow. Her stomach flipped as she descended to the ground. She tapped down behind the twisted gate in front of her house. She didn't land exactly; it was an awkward controlled fall unbalanced with haste. She rung her hands at the sound of Gohan's soft, familiar voice.
"Pan-Chan, I was so worried," he muttered.
Pan looked over her shoulder from the stoop of her porch. Her eyes followed the quiet stone path of her yard. She looked past the creeping green ivy scaling the wavy iron picket fence. A grey shadow stood under the blue light of the distant bus stop. A man, she guessed from the height and broad shoulders. He was faceless, just another back silhouette slinking on the sidewalk of West city. He shoved his hands in his pockets and meandered down the sidewalk. Pan imagined him doing the same thing as her, staring at her shadow under the yellow glow of their porch light wondering, Why is she staring?
Gohan held the door open for Pan. His warm face drew her in. She crossed under his long arm. The smell of her mother's chili drifted to her nostrils. Pan gave the bus stop one last passing glance as the familiar engine hummed outside. The hydraulic brakes on the bus puffed to a stop. The blue hover bus lingered for a moment. The shadow gently shook his head 'no'. He looked up into the empty dark sky. Then his head swayed forward, faceless and black. The idea of not knowing where his eyes lingered prickled the tiny hairs on the back of Pan's neck. She popped her chin up and slammed the door shut behind her. She flicked the dead bolt on the door and giggled.
"Know a good joke?," Gohan asked. His voice was hushed and tired, but tempered with a good-natured smile
Pan looked over at her father, her father who vaporized Cell and threw punches at literal Gods. Her father who fought demons, aliens, and everything in between. His face was reassuring, just like his very presence and the saiyan blood that he gave her.
"Nothing, I just feel silly," she said.
