Documentation

They'd driven through the night with ChiChi keeping vigil of any pursuers while Bulma navigated the terrain. Midday found them at the mouth of the Diablo desert, the hovercycle's exhaust kicking up dust devils in its wake as the vehicle soared over the dunes. Last evening's exhaustion and fatigue finally caught up, if not with the girls then with their vehicle's engine. The steady hum became a jittering whine from the merciless heat of the desert sun beating down on them. It was only luck that when the hovercycle finally surrendered to over-temperature and sputtered out, the pair could make out a large rocky formation within walking distance.

In the dwarf-mountain's shade, Bulma set up what she considered was a modest capsule house. But really, it could have had fifty rooms or just one because, in the boiling heat of high noon, her main concern was "The air conditioner works!"

Shortly after they dumped their burden of capsule-filled rucksacks onto the living room floor the two girls simply sprawled over the couch in a deep sleep.

Hunger pangs eventually had Bulma pulling her face off from the upholstery and reluctantly opening her eyes to darkness. Oh and pain. Her body was stiff and the parts that weren't were sore. Fucking Red Ribbons she grumbled, their one good trait apparently was that they had shit for aim. She wasn't sure how she and ChiChi managed to get out of that midnight raid without sustaining any injuries.

Slowly, she got up. Using the faint moonlight streaming through the round windows of the capsule house to guide her steps, the blue-haired girl fumbled for the light switch. A flick of her finger flooded the living room with light, revealing ChiChi was still asleep, dark hair fanned over the cushions with her helmet discarded on the floor by the foot of the couch. Her face was pinched with worry and she whimpered against phantoms in her dreams.

Bulma's empty stomach took a backseat to the hollow ache in her chest. She didn't know if she should wake the younger girl or let her sleep. What had the former heiress done after her own parents were murdered? That is, aside from screaming, crying, and cursing a blue streak a mile wide?

It had been a blur, mostly. Some part of her must have kept going, otherwise she wouldn't have retrieved the capsule from her father's lab coat or packed enough supplies as if she'd be facing the end of the world.

Here and now, Bulma opened the satchel strapped to her leg and took out one of the unlabeled capsules. A careful inspection later, she decapsulated its contents: Her dragon radar, a datapad, and a hand-written letter.

My dearest Bulma,

If you're reading this, well, it looks like I died before I could personally explain things to you. I found the Dragon Ball in my younger days, back when I was only dating your mother. It wasn't much of an adventure, really. I simply found it while we were on a picnic in the mountains. Your mother recognized it even if she didn't really know what it was other than what it was called. Apparently she'd seen one before.

In some ways, I regret bringing the Dragon Ball back to West City. But scientific inquiry and learning the secrets of such an artifact proved too strong a temptation. Also, I was young and curious and I wanted to study it. There was just something other-wordly about it that I couldn't help myself. Perhaps you've felt it as well?

Unfortunately, all I had to go on were legends, which not many people knew about. I had some scholars weigh in their thoughts but they all saw it as nothing more than early civilizations trying to make sense of natural occurrences. Pity I couldn't trust them enough to show them the actual Dragon Ball. What would they have said then?

Then the years passed and I still couldn't crack its secrets not even with the most advanced tools and equipment we could buy or build. I did manage to learn that the Dragon Ball was indestructible. I did all sorts of things to it, testing how much punishment it could take, putting it through all sorts of stressful conditions, and it came out without a scratch! It's really quite a marvel. If only we could somehow figure out what material it was made from, think of how it could benefit mankind!

But I had to keep it in that complicated capsule setup because, well, perhaps this is just an old man theorizing that at the very core of the Dragon Ball an incredible source of energy. Something so powerful that makes nuclear reactors look like a wind-up toy in comparison. I can't remember where I heard this theory or if I dreamt it up. It certainly felt too real to have been just a dream. I tried to look into this some more but I wasn't able to get very far because something much more important happened.

You were born.

I planned on giving you the Dragon Ball when you turned eighteen without this note of course as I would have told you the whole thing personally. But I'm guessing something bad must have happened to me so I'm entrusting the Dragon Ball to you along with all my research in the encapsulated datapad. What you do with it is up to you.

As for the Dragon Ball itself, get rid of it. Take it to Son Gohan of Mount Paozu and leave it with him. He's a formidable martial artist who is also in possession of a Dragon Ball. He'll be able to safeguard it from unscrupulous people. How your mother met him is her story to tell so I won't even try. Just know that we both trust this man with our lives and we possibly can trust him with yours.

I know my death means you and your mother are in grave danger and I am truly sorry that I am the cause of your pain. Be strong, Bulma. I know this is a tremendous burden, but you can survive this. Perhaps, some day, you'll be able to forgive an old man his selfishness. I love you and your mother very much.

-Poppa.

Oh! If you meet a Dr. Gero, stay away from him, sweetheart. Do not let him know you know of the Dragon Balls. He's a brilliant man but he's also stark raving mad. Keep the Dragon Balls away from Dr. Gero and whomever he works for. I fear that in his hands, he may not need all the balls to bring about the disaster the legends speak of.

The sound of ChiChi stirring had Bulma quickly folding the note and encapsulating it together with the datapad and the dragon radar before she went to check up on the younger girl.

"Hey, ChiChi. You're just in time, I was just about to fix dinner," she chirped with forced cheerfulness.

"Hmm? Dad always does..." ChiChi mumbled groggily, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up. But when she caught sight of her bloodied gloves, the dark-haired girl's voice caught in her throat. Trembling, she stared at the stains as the memories of last night came rushing back, and she buried her face into the nearest cushion on the couch.

Bulma didn't know what to say but she knew better than to ask if ChiChi was alright. Because that had been the last thing she would have wanted to be asked of her. Of course she's not alright, she'd just been driven out of her Mountain Kingdom and it was very likely that ChiChi was now as much an orphan as Bulma.

All she could do was gently pat the sobbing younger girl on the back, assuring her that she could "Cry it all out. Take your time."

ChiChi looked up with watery eyes, tears and snot streaming down her face, and managed to say in between hiccups, "L-let me h-help fix dinner. I-I n-need something to do."

"Sure!" Bulma smiled, rummaging through her supplies for some microwavable dinners as well as some tissues. "Here," she said, handing a pack of tissues and then two trays covered in foil. "Just heat these up. I'll take care of clean up duty after we eat."

"Don't you have any raw vegetables or meat?"

"I wasn't exactly in any situation to grab stuff that didn't come in the instant variety."

"Oh, well, next time you should stock up on ingredients. Eating only these types of food can't be healthy for you," ChiChi sniffled, somewhat disapprovingly.

"About next time..." Bulma began carefully. "We should talk."

"Yes," the younger girl nodded. "We should."

A/N: About an hour after I posted Combustion my mom called to tell me my dad died. Updates and replies will be a little slow, please bear with me until I get back in the right frame of mind to write.