"Does he like you?" Bulma asked as her heart constricted painfully. She was seeing the beginning of the end of the 'Yamcha Survivor Club,' but she wasn't sure she was ready to let go of it yet. She hadn't really considered that Chichi would be the first to leave.

"I think so," Chichi said, blushing slightly.

"Finish saddling up; we have to get you to the warm-up pen yet," Bulma said tersely as she moved to the mare's other side and pretended to be busy with the throatlatch. The remark wiped the joy off Chichi's face, and both women turned back to their tasks with new intensity. After a moment, Bulma realized that she should be supportive and said, "He seems nice."

"He is," Chichi said. "He's the exact opposite of Yamcha. He's honorable and noble and so honest. I don't think that he could lie if he wanted to."

"Just be careful, ok, Chi?" Bulma said, standing on tiptoes so that she could look at her friend over Priss' back. "He is a Saiyan."

Chichi looked at her, frowning. "So I should just ignore a nice guy because he's affiliated with a certain stable?" she snapped. "Bulma, are you serious? Or are you jealous?"

"Chichi, no," Bulma said, shaking her head as she moved to the stirrups and began to adjust them. "I don't mean it that way. All I mean is that the Saiyans have a reputation for not playing fair. So just be careful – in all dealings with them! You're on the fifth hole, right?"

"Bulma, you know how long I like my leathers," Chichi sighed, fiddling with the stirrup on her side to get the length correct. "I think that you're being silly. Normally, I would agree with you, but I talked to Goku for a long time last night, and he is nothing like Yamcha. I mean, I didn't pick up a single warning signal while talking to him." Chichi waited for a response, but none came. She glanced up from the stirrup to see Bulma staring down the hallway, a pensive look on her face. Chichi followed her gaze and was surprised to see that her friend – the one that had just firmly denounced the Saiyans – watching Vegeta Saiyan lead a limping horse up the aisle. She looked back at Bulma and was shocked to realize that the look on her friend's face was confused, unsure. Chichi had never seen Bulma look like that. "Bulma?"

"What? Oh, sorry, I got distracted," Bulma muttered, turning back to the saddle.

"By Vegeta Saiyan?" Chichi asked in full tease-mode.

"No!" Bulma yelped. Chichi giggled as Bulma's face turned a slow red.

"That's good, because I'd hate to have to turn your pretty speech on you," Chichi laughed as she gathered up Priss' reins.

"Yeah, sure," Bulma muttered and then said, "So, do you need me on the fence while you warm up?"

Chichi grew serious immediately. "Oh, would you, Bulma? I want to see if everything looks good from the ground."

"It will look great," Bulma said with a smile. "Come on, let's get you ready."

After seeing Chichi around the ring a few times, Bulma dashed back to the barn and began to tack up Red. The gelding was spooky, dancing and fidgeting so much that Bulma finally had to grab the lunge line and run him in circles for a few minutes. That took some of the bravado out of him, and the chestnut gelding was quickly readied.

Bulma lead him outside, then slid her foot into the stirrup and climbed on his back. From up here, things were a little better for her, as her focus began to narrow on the competition. She kept running over her goals with Red for this event: give him some experience at a high level event; see if he was really as good as she thought he was; and to see if he could cut it at this level. Not all horses could handle a four-star event, and while Bulma thought he could, and he acted like he could at home, the only way to be sure was to put him in one and see how he did.

She rode over to the warm-up pen and entered carefully, mindful of other horses in the arena. She glanced around for Chichi and rode toward her friend. Then Bulma realized that Chichi was riding next to Goku on one of the black Saiyan horses, and she pulled Red to a stop. Something akin to jealously curled in her stomach as she watched them ride close, but not too close. To someone who didn't know the story, it was just two competitors, riding side-by-side in the arena.

Red flinched to the left as a horse moved up on her right; to Bulma's irritation, Vegeta didn't keep going. Instead, he executed a perfect double half-halt, bringing his horse to a lovely square stop. Bulma suddenly felt very much the ugly duckling as she became painfully aware that Red had ambled to a stop and was even cocking one hoof forward as he rested his weight on the other three legs.

"Idiot," Vegeta snorted, watching Chichi and Goku.

"Excuse me?" Bulma snapped. "What did you call me?"

"Not you," Vegeta grumped as he rolled his eyes. "Kakkarot."

Bulma blinked for a moment, frowning in confusion. She hated to admit that she didn't know something, particularly to this brutish lout, but she finally had to concede. "Who?"

Vegeta gave her a withering look and sighed, "My brother. You know, the one that you met at dinner last night and who is panting after your friend."

"I thought his name was Goku," Bulma huffed. "That's what he told us anyway. And he'd better not be 'panting' after Chichi or I'll castrate him."

Vegeta looked at her for the first time in this conversation, his face set in cold unreadable lines. "And I hope that he's not serious," the Saiyan said. "It will be more trouble that way."

Bulma glared at the arrogant man, her hands twitching hard enough that Red began to fidget. "For your sake and mine," Bulma said in a tight voice, "you had better have a really good reason for that last statement. Chichi is my friend and she deserves someone who is serious about her."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her, noting the barely contained anger. Even as he wondered why his statement had set her off so badly, he attempted to diffuse her a little with an honest, neutral reply: "And I don't see why she shouldn't have someone dedicated to her as well. It just should not be Kakkarot."

"Why?"

"Of course you have to question," Vegeta growled before answering, "He has other obligations."

"What?" Bulma snarled, glaring across the arena. "Is he married or just engaged? I'll kill him." She had tightened her hands even further, and poor Red was literally dancing in place now as he desperately tried to figure out what she wanted.

Without thinking about it, Vegeta leaned over and put a hand on her arm. His touch caused her to jump with surprise and drop her reins as she twisted to face Vegeta. Her horse stopped his prancing with a happy sigh, but Vegeta didn't notice; his stomach suddenly bottomed out as the full force of her blue eyes slammed into him. He saw her surprise, which was just barely concealing her anger, but what he didn't expect to see was pain. It was a naked and raw ache, and Vegeta felt suddenly protective. That was enough to scare him and he pulled back from her. Ignoring her as best he could, he straightened his reins and said, "He is not allowed to date women in the sport. Our father thinks that it compromises you."

Bulma just stared, her expression one of total befuddlement. "Um, Vegeta, not to insult your father," Bulma finally said hesitantly, "but hasn't he heard of Michael and Danielle Collins? The husband-wife competitors who are arguably the best single opponents in the sport?"

Vegeta snorted. "My father competed against both when he was younger. He believed that they were biased when competing against each other. My father defeated them both many times."

"And they defeated him several times as well," Bulma said, shaking her head. "I don't think that I'll ever understand your father," she said ruefully.

"No one understands him," Vegeta said, glancing at her. She was looking at him, and they shared a moment of complete understanding. It was pleasant.

The loudspeaker blared, and the moment was gone. Bulma twisted around and scanned the ring. "Do you see Chichi?" she asked. "They just called her and I want to see her off." Vegeta jerked his thumb toward a corner of the ring. "Thanks!" Bulma barked. "Say, if I don't see you before you go – good luck."

Vegeta's face went stern and haughty. "Don't wish me luck," he growled. "I'm not the one who will need it." He swung his horse away from her, riding across the ring away from Bulma and Chichi.

With an irritated sigh, Bulma rode toward Chichi, who was preparing to leave the ring. The dark-haired woman was clearly nervous; her normally pale face was now chalky white. "Bulma?" Chichi gasped. "How do I look? Does Priss look alright? What if I forget the pattern?"

Bulma leaned out of her saddle and laid a hand on Chichi's shoulder. "You look great, Priss looks great, and you could run this pattern in your sleep," she said firmly, looking Chichi in the eyes. "You will do great."

"Yeah, totally," Goku said with a smile. "You'll do awesome."

"Ok," Chichi said, her voice tight. "Let's go."