One of the Boys
Disclaimer:I don't own any of the Dragon Ball Series or its continuations and spin-offs. This is loosely based off of Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night."
Summary: Bulma hatches a wild scheme to compete in the World Martial Arts Tournament.
Chapter Four: Lose Your Clothes
"Hey, kid!" A voice reached her from the doorway of the locker area. She looked up to see Coach Piccolo. "Skip the shower for now." Music to her ears. There was a God after all. "Principal Roshi is expecting you in his office. Hurry it up."
She scurried out of the locker room so quickly that it made Piccolo wonder briefly if her agility was a greater asset than he originally believed. The thought was out the door as she was. After racing past an onslaught of students, she skidded nearly to a stop. Bulma had made her way to the principal's spacious office with her heart jack hammering inside her. She took her seat in one of the chairs as she waited for his arrival. His secretary had let her in, saying he had only stepped out for a short moment and would be back soon.
'He could take his time,' Bulma thought to herself, suspecting the inevitable. She said aloud, "Game over. He knows who I am," and began to readjust her chest wrappings. She had no use for the oppressive fabric now and her breasts felt so itchy she could hardly tolerate it. A thought crossed her mind suddenly and she stood up. Rushing over to the principal's filing cabinet, she knocked her first to open the drawer. Goku's file may have been able to assist her somehow in the situation. She dug through the drawer and didn't have to strain her eyes to find it. Unlike every other file in the drawer, Goku's protruded because of its thick size. "Seriously, Goku?" She wondered out loud and was about to flip through it when a noise alerted her.
A bald headed old man in a Hawaiian shirt, who she assumed was Principal Roshi, was opening the door. Bulma panicked as she attempted to cram Goku's file back in the drawer. When she slammed it closed, she accidentally got part of her chest wrapping caught in it and surged against the filing cabinet. It knocked her hard in her right boob, but she ignored the pain and pretended to lean upon the cabinet nonchalantly.
"Hello young man," the principal greeted and gave a dramatic bow. "I'm Principal Roshi." He approached the filing cabinet, unabashed by her awkward posture against it, and leaned his elbow against his surface. He grinned. "Wonderful to meet you, Goku Son."
Bulma shook his hand. Perhaps he didn't know anything out of the ordinary then, but he would if he detected her chest wrapping was caught in the filing cabinet. "You asked to see me?"
"I just wanted to welcome you to Saiyan Academy." He recited his statement several more times but to a tune only he knew. Bulma forced a smile as she tried to work her left hand to discreetly tug the chest wrapping from the invincible hold of the filing cabinet. He chuckled, ending his sing song display with a toothy grin. "I figured I'd check in with you and see how you're acclimating to the campus."
"I'm adjusting well," Bulma provided. "It's been great. You know, doing guy things."
"Guy things." Principal Roshi's eyes twinkled at this as if reminiscent of his youth. "Let's take a gander at that file of yours," he suggested, turning to the filing cabinet and attempting to open it. He chuckled as he exerted more effort into opening it. "Seems it's stuck—that's weird."
Bulma knocked her fist into it subtly and the drawer thrust open as if relieved as she was to remove her chest wrapping from it and back down her thick sweatshirt. She turned her back to him, rustled her sweatshirt and tugged at the wrappings firmly to readjust.
Principal Roshi fetched the file promptly and said from behind her, "I've caught you." Her eyes widened in mortification, but she said nothing, only turned to face him with shame. "I know you're not interested in talking to an old guy like me, but have a seat for a moment so we can get better acquainted." He drew back an expansive black chair. "I'll even let you sit in Master Roshi's chair here."
Another chuckle. Somehow Bulma felt like Prinicipal Roshi was the type of man who spent a lot of time chuckling, and probably doing so while he drooled over graphic adult magazines.
Bulma complied though. She had to admit to herself that she found his behavior slightly disturbing. She didn't know anyone who referred to themselves in the third person.
Principal Roshi, or Master Roshi as he clearly preferred to be called, hopped up on the counter behind his desk and smiled fondly at the young student before him. Bulma gave a meek smile. "Saiyan Academy is quite the institution, wouldn't you agree?" He reached to his desk and lifted a plaque adorned with the Saiyan crest and motto. "Nothing better than the fire red, black and true gold."
"No way," Bulma said, knocking her hand against the plaque to show her agreement with the sentiments.
"Whoa there," Principal Roshi scolded. "The plaque is sacred dear boy. Don't touch it inappropriately. One does not touch the plaque. The plaque touches you." He put it to his heart for emphasis. He seemed to purr contentedly.
Bulma eyed the old man warily. He was more than a little eccentric. That much was evident. "My bad," she muttered.
"It is quite alright," he chirped, putting the plaque back in its rightful place upon his desk. He moved to the chair Bulma had sat in when she first entered, but not in the conventional way someone sits in a chair. Both feet landed on the cushion as he crouched, leaning forward toward her. She was suddenly grateful there was a desk between them. "Back in the stone age," he chuckled at his own joke, "I had been a transfer student as well. I enjoy keeping a close and watchful eye on the transfers of this academy too. I like to consider myself as a big brother, if you will, popping up unexpectedly. Don't be surprised if I pop up every now and then to see how you're doing."
"Very cool." Bulma didn't know how else to respond. "Sounds like fun."
Principal Roshi smiled, pleased with the answer. "Skedaddle now, boy!" His voice was booming. She hadn't predicted a change in mood so quickly, but nodded her head furiously and moved to do as instructed.
It was unnerving how he maintained his smile as he watched her leave the office. So much so that she also watched him as she left and ended up colliding with another student on her way in doing so.
The stranger cried out as she fell to the floor, dropping her belongings to it. Bulma reflexively apologized, joined the student on the floor and gathered all of the girl's items for her. "I'm so clumsy sometimes," Bulma admitted, handing the female back her things gently. "Sorry about that."
"It's alright." The girl gave a sincere smile. Bulma noted the attractiveness of her and surmised that she was perhaps one of the prettier girls she had seen at the school. She was small-framed, similar to herself, but not as chesty. She had a very small waist and hips, but appeared to have more fluff to her butt than Bulma, still a good figure to have. Her face was framed by long dark hair which had a sheen suggesting healthy locks. Bulma immediately felt a tinge of envy, missing her own once-long tendrils that had to be cropped to hide her identity better.
"What in the world is going on out here?" Principal Roshi had been raucous in his intrusion, leaning over them from the doorway of his office. "Oh, I see," he whistled when he took in the sight of the two students crouched upon the floor. He had that gleam in his eyes again, the one which suggested he a recollection of his past memories. "High school is indeed a wonderful place to interact with the opposite sex."
He smiled dreamily and then cleared his throat, realizing he'd perhaps hinted at something more than a platonic relationship between the genders. "Of course, unprotected sex should not be a part of the high school experience because it leads to unwanted pregnancies and staggering dropout rates. The only true contraceptive is abstinence." It was obvious than he himself had grown awkward with his own conversation. He cleared his throat uneasily again, stepped further back into his office and held his hand to the door to prepare to close it. "Carry on, but remember abstinence is key!"
Bulma looked to her companion. Judging by the way the girl seemed to blush she was on the shy side. She did let out a soft giggle though. "Is Master Roshi always like that?"
"He means well," she promised and laughed again as she brushed wisps of dark hair behind her ears.
The two stood together and Bulma saw that they were about the same height, which meant they'd likely have a similar shoe size. Her eyes immediately went to her footwear, admiringly. "I love your shoes," she complimented, unable to help herself. "Those are super adorable!"
"Thanks," replied the brunette appreciatively. "They were on sale at the campus book store."
"I didn't know they had shoes there." Bulma looked reflective. "I need to go check that out soon."
"Yeah, they've got a great collection."
Eyes widening, Bulma realized she may have given away too much with her excitement over the shoes. Not very manly of her. She extended another book out toward the girl that she hadn't returned to her yet. "Here you go."
"Thank you." The girl beamed.
To avoid further awkwardness, Bulma decided it was time to excuse herself. "Well, I uh got some guy stuff to do—it's kind of a full time job." That came out stupid, and a little too honest.
"Sure." Another smile. Bulma returned it in a more uncomfortable fashion, but it was still sincere. She gave a head nod, the manly thing to do she presumed, and stalked off to her next class before lunch.
When lunch hour had finally arrived, Bulma had to admit that even for her she felt very hungry. Perhaps pretending to be her brother was beginning to rub off somewhat and she had somehow gained some of his hardy appetite. She retrieved a lunch tray and heaped several different items onto it. She only found it mildly odd that Principal Roshi just so happened to be the one to ring up her meal and wish her a wonderful, Saiyan afternoon.
She surmised he hadn't been joking when he promised to show special interest in her as a transfer student.
Bulma made her way through the cafeteria, knowing that where she sat could be socially crippling or exalting. Where she chose to sit was a symbol of her status, her place at the academy. She spotted a series of unfamiliar faces, deciding not to make new friends, before she found comfort in the recognition of her dormmate Vegeta. She felt it must have been fate because there was an open seat between Krillin and Nappa.
Confidently, she strode over and took a seat. Her self-esteem took some hits when she dropped some of her tray's items onto the table and they knocked over Nappa's bottle of soda. Luckily, the cap had been screwed tightly and none of its contents spilled. That could have been mortifying.
When Bulma was nervous, she had a habit of talking too much, and this moment was no excuse. "Sup, guys," she greeted cheerily. "What do you think of this year's martial arts team? I feel like I got the short end of the stick being thrown on second string. That was kind of B.S. I'm not the greatest, but I still think I'm first string material." When no one answered, she tried to change the subject again. "The game against Orange Star will be exciting, huh?"
Vegeta looked utterly aggravated. "What a stupid thing to even suggest."
Krillin and Nappa, who had been indifferent mostly throughout her forced conversation finally looked up and awaited her response too.
'Time for my lies,' Bulma thought reluctantly. "My sis goes to O.S.H. She used to date that tool Yamcha Sumter." She almost grinned at the derisive mention of her ex-boyfriend, curious to see if they would offer anything on him. She wasn't disappointed.
The men exchanged bemused glances with one another and then burst out in peals of laughter. "I made that weakling cry once," Vegeta smirked. "I'll never forget that, and I'm sure, neither will he." That earned more laughs from his companions.
"You were the one that did that?" Bulma asked incredulously.
He nodded. "Who else?"
'So cocky,' Bulma noted, but couldn't help that she was mildly impressed. "Go figure."
"So what's your sister look like?" Nappa asked, cocking his head to the side as if ready to visualize every detail he expected to receive.
"Does she have big boobs?" Krillin asked. "Or an ass?" The short guy had perked up now, listening more intently than he had been before.
"Hmm…" Bulma was pensive. How could she brag about herself without making it sound too strange? She straightened and smiled. "She's remarkably smart and has an awesome personality."
All three of them groaned. That hadn't earned the reaction she expected. "That means she's a four or lower." Krillin looked more than disappointed in his assessment.
"Or worse—handicapped." Nappa seemed to find his comment hilarious and threw his head back to laugh. It was cut short when his attention was drawn elsewhere. His eyes strained to look across the room. He returned his interest to the group and told Vegeta, "Babe sighting."
They all turned in the direction Nappa had been looking. Standing in the lunch line, ready to pay for her meal, was the same girl Bulma had bumped into accidentally earlier that day. She turned back to the men at her table, saying what she believed Raditz would have suggested her to say, "I'd hit that—twice." She could see Raditz in her mind, giving her a thumbs up.
Both Krillin and Nappa looked to Vegeta for his reaction. The young man looked irritated. "Don't be vulgar when referring to her."
Bulma was surprised by the rebuke. Guys, in her experience, were always crude or perverted to an extent, especially in private when they wouldn't be judged so harshly by their male peers. In fact, when around other guys, the behavior was usually encouraged. Someone as arrogant as Vegeta she would have assumed was no different, but apparently he had some scruples.
"Is that your woman?" Bulma teased, waggling her drawn-thick eyebrows.
Krillin almost choked on his drink. "In Vegeta's dreams!" He immediately regretted the words after being awarded a warning look from his friend.
"That's Chi-Chi. She just got dumped by her college boyfriend," explained Nappa. "She's emotional, depressed and vulnerable."
As Nappa spoke and described the girl's emotional state, Bulma gazed after her empathetically. She knew that feeling all too well. Briefly for a moment, she met the sad dark eyes of the girl in discussion. Bulma turned away instantly, already feeling very rude for staring. "Poor girl," she murmured, but the men around her didn't hear it.
"In layman's terms, it's the ideal time to strike," Krillin smiled.
Vegeta rolled his eyes. A figure neared their table, as if to make the presence obvious to the group, and smugly approached Chi-Chi's table. "Fag," Vegeta growled.
"That's MJ. I hate that prick," Krillin muttered. Nappa just glared.
Bulma observed the young man who had earned such a derogative insult and could admittedly see why. Despite it being leisure time, he was still committed to wearing his school uniform. His hair was gelled in a gentleman's fashion and he had a prissy air about him. The young man looked over to their group, gave a self-satisfied smile, and took a seat next to Chi-Chi.
The men didn't take well to the offense, but Bulma didn't see the man as a threat. She was an expert at reading female body language—she was a girl after all—and judging by Chi-Chi's, it was evident the girl found the young man named MJ as nothing more than a nuisance. Still, to be cordial, Chi-Chi and her companion offered the stuffy shirted boy a meek smile. Chi-Chi turned to her friend and gave a look. Bulma almost laughed, recognizing it. It was the 'don't look now, but it's him' look. She'd given it many times to her friends when disturbed by an unwanted male presence.
"So that's your competition, huh?" She nodded to Vegeta.
"No one can compete with me," he stated, but quite testily.
Bulma returned her attention to the girl, Chi-Chi. Her eyes were downcast and her mouth had formed a straight line. She looked… "Miserable," Bulma finished the thought out loud. "She looks miserable. That just hurts my heart." She gave a sigh and was met with three pairs of furrowed brows.
She had done it again and said something no guy would ever dare say or even think to say. Raditz would have taken back the dragon ball he gave her had he heard the comment. She attempted to correct herself. "I mean, I can understand what she's going through. I just got out of a bad relationship myself." Her mind took a plunge, diving deep into suppressed thoughts of Yamcha. She hadn't expected them to flood in with such decisive force. She frowned. "Every promise of forever suddenly means nothing. You lose who you thought was your best friend. It's as if they just took a sharp object and stabbed you in the heart like they never gave a damn about you in the first place!" She picked up her fork to demonstrate, making aggressive thrusts with it against her lunch tray.
The boys, her roommate included, stood up without notice. They grabbed their unfinished drinks and snacks, and eagerly removed themselves from the table.
'Dammit,' Bulma cursed herself. She had gotten carried away yet again. "I mean, that's how my sister describes it, not me!" She desperately needed to work on that. "See you guys later," she called out to them hopefully, but knew the chances were slim. "We'll have bro time!"
Evening at Namek Hall
At last, it was late in the evening and Bulma could take a proper shower. Earlier when she was covered in filth she had been forced to do only a surface cleaning. She had gone into the men's bathroom of her dormitory and used the sink to scrub away what she could. It wasn't the most hygienic but had sufficed for the time being. She had hoped that the cologne Raditz gifted her would assist in covering her stench. No one had mentioned anything to her about it, and her dormmates didn't seem to mind hurting her feelings, so she assumed her methods thus far had been effective enough in masking the scent.
Upon entering the men's showers, she felt relief pulsate through her. There was a strange kind of comfort in knowing she would soon be squeaky clean. Of course, that was only if the showers were empty. There wasn't much privacy in Namek Hall's shower room, and she couldn't sneak over to a female one without giving away her identity.
Carefully scanning the area, she did a small victory dance. Most everyone was certainly in bed by now. She'd chosen midnight to sneak in for a cleaning to avoid getting walked in on. She hurried her way to the mirror, wiggling free of her chest wrap. It never felt so good to set her breasts free.
A sharply drawn breath made her head snap to the right. The young man that her dormmates had expressed a loathing for during their lunch hour irately stood before.
"Manabu-Jin Buu. Ma-Jin or MJ work just fine too," he introduced himself. "I'm the dorm director for Namek Hall."
She gave a small head nod as she crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to conceal her femininity. "I'm Goku."
"You must have thrown away your dorm life pamphlet otherwise you wouldn't be breaking the rules right now," he scolded. "You're not the sort of person who would do such a thing, would you?" His accusing eyes narrowed to slits.
She didn't respond. Her attention went to the figure behind Ma-Jun. Vegeta had materialized, shirtless again, with a towel in hand. He winded the towel back and allowed it to smack forcefully against the back of Ma-Jun's neck. The man's hands shot up to his head protectively as he let out a high pitched yowl.
"Sup, Namekian," Bulma greeted her roommate. She had heard some of the other students refer to the men of Namek Hall as Namekians and thought she'd try it out.
He grimaced at the reference. "Hi," he said flatly. Frustrated that she couldn't take a shower in their presence, she gathered her articles and turned to leave. Vegeta called out to her, drawing her back. "Leaving something?" He held up her chest wrap, eyeing it with peculiarity.
"Thanks, homie," she said and immediately chastised herself for using such a term. He gave her an odd sideways glance but said nothing more. She accepted her belonging and promptly left without another word.
World Martial Arts Tournament
Storm clouds had collected across the sky, their gathering so great they effortlessly blocked the sun from shining through at all. That wasn't the only thing which made the day dreary though. An uneasy feeling of apprehension had settled in her stomach, knotting up like a snake coiling and constricting around her stomach's pit. She felt like vomiting.
It was the quarter finals of the tournament. So far, Orange Star and Saiyan Academy were tied for first. It was a grudge match and Bulma was up to fight.
"You're up," Piccolo shouted, throwing his clipboard at her. "I better see a win."
She stood up from the bench she had been warming, surprised that she had been called from second string. She had been certain she wouldn't compete in any fights. She had thought she would have to be an unofficial cheerleader for her team.
When she moved to the center of the arena, prepared to meet her competitor, she realized with astonishment that not only was her blue hair cascading down at the length prior to her haircut, but she was wearing one of the absurd gowns her mother had purchased her. Could that have been the reason for her coach's fury?
She looked up and felt her soul detach itself from her body, as if she was no longer apart of her physical form. Yamcha approached with cool confidence. He smirked as the referee made the announcement for the fight to begin. Both fell to their respective fighter stances.
He leered closely to her, taunting her. "Just so you know, I always let you win," he declared. No longer detached, she felt her soul return to her body, felt everything. Felt the nip of the cold breeze, the cold surface of the floor below and felt the sting of Yamcha's words.
Her eyes widened with horror as his fist shot out at her, connecting hard with her jaw. She had been so wrong to believe she could contend in the men's division—so foolish. She slammed hard onto the concrete arena floor. Yamcha stood over her, kicked her repeatedly in the gut.
"Get up already!" Piccolo was screaming.
She lifted her head just enough to take view of her coach and her teammate. She saw Vegeta, Krillin and Nappa among them. Krillin and Nappa were laughing, but Vegeta only shook his head in disapproval. He saw her as a failure.
Tears burst from her eyes. She coughed blood. Yamcha had broken a few of her ribs. One of them had probably punctured her lungs.
"Weakling," Vegeta mouthed to her, dark eyes filled with scorn.
How could she have let this happen to her?
Then, as if from nowhere, she felt ice cold water pour all over her, startling her awake. She coughed and spat out the water that had found its way into her mouth. She was back in her dorm room, finally stirred from the horrible, horrible nightmare she had been having.
However, there was another nightmare waiting for her not that she had been awaken. She heard the merciless laughs of who she assumed to be her dormmates as they lifted her with ease from her bed.
"What the hell is going on?" She demanded, struggling in their grasp. "What are you doing to me?" She was met with laughter as a response. Her captors rushed her out of the room. It was too dark to see where she was being taken so she waited until they set her down. Judging by the tile of the floor they had set her upon, they were in the showers.
She and the rest of the second stringers gathered closely together, putting their backs against one another's. At last, Bulma had realized what was going on. First string was going to haze them, punish them for being inferior. Oatmeal pelted them, confirming what she already knew. She flinched, felt for her hair and was grateful the wig hadn't fallen off. Not that anyone could see too well while they were in the darkness anyway.
All around her, the men of second string were crying out in protest but could do nothing. First string had the upper hand, and they were cheering with each second of torture they submitted their subordinates to.
"Welcome to hell," one of the first string members greeted. The voice was Vegeta's.
More oatmeal slid all over her, clung to her skin where it had been exposed. The smell sickened her for some reason. She regained her composure and concentrated on adjusting her eyes to the darkness. She could make out some things. The men of first string were masked, wearing ridiculous looking outfits. She couldn't help but sigh, realizing she would have to force herself through this somehow. She felt more annoyed than anything.
She didn't panic until their next announcement was made. "Lose your clothes!" That was Nappa.
She could hear Krillin begin a chant with the other first stringers, "Lose your clothes! Lose your clothes! Lose your clothes!"
Hoping her second string teammates wouldn't give into the peer pressure, she looked beside her. Most of them had already complied with the hazing and the ones who hadn't were in the process of removing their shirts.
'This could get ugly,' she realized. She would have to make a break for it. She crouched low to the ground, like a lion in the middle of stalking its prey. She remained there, weaving through countless figures, desperate to find an edge, a wall, a something. Her oatmeal covered hands brushed up against the comfortingly familiar surface of smooth tile and patted at it until she found what she had been looking for.
'Pretty sure this would classify as an emergency,' she thought, and gave the handle of the fire alarm she'd discovered a hard tug. The alarm belted out its blessed ring and she sighed against the tile as the shower system turned on and sprayed the occupants of the room. She wished she could have known all of this before she'd decided to enroll as her brother and cross dress.
Author's Note: I figured this was due for an update. I hope it was entertaining. So far I'm sticking very closely to the story this is based on, but I will begin making subtle changes which should change to major ones later on. Game changers, if you will (pun intended, haha). Let me know your thoughts on this update's chapter. Feedback is always welcome.