Lie or Die

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Being a Saiyan princess certainly had its disadvantages…

Bulla stared at the crying boy as though she'd been caught stealing one of her momma's devices. Well, for the first time she didn't. However, it was also the first time Bulma used her 'baby tricks' on a person, and a small boy at that. However, she refused to feel guilty, because after all, didn't papa and uncle Goku use theirs when they fight bad people? It's only right that she used her skills for the same reason.

She used it too much, though. But it made the boy stop his stealing, and maybe he learned a lesson as well. You don't bully a Saiyan princess and get away with it.

Feeling better now with her reasoning, Bulla made a gurgling sound of satisfaction when a booming voice thundered past her in a figure of a middle aged woman. "Oh, Franc! What happened? Why are you crying?" The woman gasped upon seeing the swollen side of his cheek. "Who did this to you?" She exclaimed in a seething fury. The boy pointed one shaking hand in her direction.

Bulla would have rolled her eyes— pathetic weakling— when another voice called out. This time more familiar. "Bra!"

Bulma stormed past the crowd, her eyes scanning for her small child. Bulla nearly panicked then and there when her mother's stern face came into view, her father walking leisurely a few steps behind. He looked like a lion prowling in a Hyenas' den—his stance arrogant and relaxed but also stern and quite intimidating.

Her worried face instantly brightened, an idea popping to her mind. Her father would champion her. Momma's always lecturing her even though she didn't do anything wrong.. not entirely that, is. But her father loved her. In that instant, she felt compelled to half-craw and half-run toward her father to seek protection.

Bulma shook her head at her daughter who was already dashing past her. "Oh no, young princess. You're in serious trouble. How many times do I have to tell you not to get out of your stroller?

Bulla looked at her mother, her face a clear mask of innocence and mischief.

"Excuse me?" Behind them, the woman clutched her son against her skirt, her eyes shining with outrage. She pointed to Bulla. "Are you the mother of that child?" She spat the last word angrily it sparked a nerve in Bulma's temple. She turned to the woman with chin raised up high— all lofty and queen-like in her expensive designer dress and high heels. "Yes, I am, and what business do you have with my daughter?"

The other woman's eyes faltered for moment before she collected herself. "That daughter of yours did this to my son!" She showed the swollen side of her son's face. The boy's cheek was swollen and his nose red and eyes brimming with tears. But he looked at Bulla so viciously that Bulma instinctively reacted— all maternal furry and protectiveness surfacing inside her.

"Are you saying that my daughter— my one year old daughter did that to your son?" Bulma said coolly, even though deep inside she was well aware that her daughter could've done something like that despite being barely able to walk. She has a Saiyan blood after all. And a volatile temperament and impulsiveness from both mother and father.

"Franc, tell us what happened." Indignant, the boy's mother tugged on her son's arm. "What did that brat do to you?"

Encouraged by his mother's anger on his behalf, the boy bared his teeth, "She kicked me! I didn't do anything!"

Bewildered at the turn of events, Bulla's eyebrows creased as her annoyance escalated to a dizzying pitch and snapped at the word 'brat'. She didn't like that word, and the boy was shouting, looking so accusingly that she made a defensive growling sound at the back of her throat.

Bulma looked down, startled at the sound that she heard from her daughter. She never heard Bulla utter such a threatening sound. She bites and wails like a banshee but never did the small child show such a violent reaction. It seemed she was out to shed some blood. If not for the situation at hand, she would have been amused; the girl was a spitting image of her father at that moment. Bulma was quite certain that Bulla would leap at the boy and god knows what would happen then.

And as if realizing the same thought, Vegeta scooped his daughter in his arms. The infant clutched at her father's shoulders but didn't break eye contact with the boy.

"Well," Vegeta started with a bored expression as though the weather's a better topic than two squabbling children. "Did you kick the boy?"

Bulla bared her own set of little fangs. She did.

Vegeta continued, not even the least surprised. "Why did you kick the boy?"

She pointed down at her knees. Her pink plaited skirt was now raised and crumpled around her small legs with his arms balancing her. Then, Vegeta saw the gash and scratches on her skin. His eyes narrowed. Bulma nearly leapt in front of the boy to protect him.

"Did that boy do this to you?"

Bulla nodded her head.

The boy's mother sputtered in outrage. "What? My son would never—

Vegeta's eyes snapped to the woman's direction with an eerie calmness. "Are you saying that my daughter is lying?" He stated in a low and lethal tone of voice, the one he often used in the battlefield.

"Why— this is—" The mother stammered, her eyes flashing with fear upon seeing the look in his eyes. As if on cue, she grabbed her son's arm and practically dragged him away. "Let's go Franc! It's worthless to talk with these people."

"Vegeta." Bulma implored nervously. "You can't kill them."

He gave a loud snort. "I have better things to do. I don't waste my time on those pathetic humans."

"Yeah," She said, sarcasm lacing her tone, "you just waste my goddamn money after I repaired all the damage you've caused."

The man snorted. Again. Bulma crossed her arms to keep herself from punching him in the face. As if that would work, the man's built like a rock, harder even. The only soft place the dratted man possessed was..

Bulma cleared her throat as she tried to stop the direction of her thoughts. Nevertheless, her gaze darted unerringly toward his backside. Yep, that part of him was certainly firm but soft enough her nails nearly left a scratch.

"Stop that staring, woman or I'll do something really deprave."

Bulma nearly jumped out of her skin, her face flushing before she averted her gaze. "I'm not."

He ignored her and looked at his daughter instead, but not before she saw a small smile on his lips. "You're mother's an awful liar."

Bulma didn't know what surprised her the most, Vegeta's teasing or the brat nodding her head, and rather vigorously at that.

Traitor.

The End..