CHAPTER SEVEN

"Vegeta is up to something."

Bulma and her mother were in the living room, the windows flung wide to the late-summer breeze, trashy daytime TV shows running on a seemingly endless loop.

"Oh?" The disinterest in her mother's voice was frustrating.

"Yes," Bulma insisted. "Haven't you noticed? He's always flying off somewhere these days. The gravity room has been fixed for, like, a week, and I don't even know if he's used it yet."

"I think I heard it running yesterday," Mrs. Briefs said, flipping the crinkly page of her tabloid magazine.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Okay, so he's used it a couple times, maybe. That's not really the point I'm trying to make."

Mrs. Briefs peered up at her. "You seem awfully curious. Why don't you ask him?"

Bulma frowned. "Yes, Mom, great idea. 'Hey Vegeta, how's it going? I know you hate talking to people and you really hate letting anyone know anything about yourself, but you're acting really shady and I'd just like to know, what're you doing?'"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll tell you."

Bulma looked at her mother, her mouth a straight, irritated line. "Are you," she said dryly. "And what makes you so sure?"

Mrs. Briefs shrugged. "Just a feeling."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "I think you greatly overestimate Vegeta's social nature."

Mrs. Briefs said nothing, but began to hum along distractedly to The Price is Right theme song.

Bulma sighed, dropping the conversation, but she looked back out the window where she'd seen him just a few moments ago, streaking across the sky like a comet. Usually, Vegeta didn't go anywhere off the Capsule Corporation compound. In fact, she rarely saw him anywhere besides the house – and even then only specific rooms most of the time – and the gravity room. Lately, he'd been taking off and going somewhere, or various somewheres if his inconsistent direction was any indication, and Bulma wanted to know why.

Not that she particularly cared what Vegeta was up to. He could do whatever he wanted. He had been doing whatever he wanted from the moment he set foot in the house. But he was such an enigma, so foreign to her, that Bulma felt that by finding out this little nugget of information, she could gain some insight on him. Bulma was a people person, and it bothered her to have such limited understanding of a person with whom she lived in such close proximity. It bothered her that he was comfortable being so reclusive. It bothered her because she was sure that he was not comfortable with it.

In fact, she would bet any amount of money that Vegeta was lonely.

It was several hours later when she saw Vegeta's blue ki approach the Capsule Corporation. Her bare feet were dipped in the pool and a thick prototype report sat in her lap. She watched as he came closer until his aura disappeared from around him and he dropped gracefully to the ground. Immediately he went to the gravity room and it was only a few seconds until she heard the electrical hum of the machine starting up.

Bulma exhaled deeply. She would find out what he was up to.


She woke up early the next morning and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, out of her face. She donned loose cargo pants and an old tank-top, and then, upon further consideration, grabbed an old Taitans track jacket that was leftover from Yamcha's pro ball days. She didn't know where she'd be going today and wanted to be ready for anything. With that in mind, she went downstairs to the weapons room where mostly Vegeta's new toys sat half-broken and in disarray, and grabbed a holster and some old-fashioned guns. Just in case.

And then she waited, her eyes on the sky, watching for Vegeta's familiar blue streak to push off from the compound.

She was growing bored after hours of hanging around the main door when finally she saw him step out onto the balcony and take off in a blur. She ran outside, fumbling with the capsule, eager to open it and tail him before she lost track of him. The jet appeared with a bom and she scrambled in, cranking the engine to life, and shooting across the flat grass as far as she dared before pulling up into liftoff.

Bulma had been left behind by her friends far too often for her liking, and because she did not possess the power of flight herself, she had done the next best thing: designed a plane that could reach speeds upwards of eight thousand kilometres per hour, the fastest in the world, to follow them. But more important than the speed of the plane was the radar she had installed: based off the technology she had gleaned from the old Saiyan scouter left behind by Raditz, she had developed a radar that could track her friends based on their ki. The scouter had been able to pick up power levels and provide a reading. Bulma didn't care for the level of strength itself, but had used the same measuring technology to enable her to pinpoint where the source of the ki was, provided she was in range. When she had designed it, she had never expected to use it to follow Vegeta.

But here she was, his blip of ki solidly within her radar's range, and she settled in, smiling to herself, as she allowed him to remain a few hundred kilometres out from her, thankful he wasn't flying too quickly.

It was some time before the blip on her radar stopped moving, indicating his descent, and she, too, reduced her altitude. She saw that they were over a canyon of sorts, and she circled around a few times before finding a space clear enough for a landing. It was rough and she was glad for her strong stomach. She double checked the plane's radar before encapsulating it, exchanging it for another capsule that revealed a motorcycle, and she jumped on to continue on as her radar had directed. She estimated that Vegeta was less than one hundred kilometres out – a little closer than she would have liked, as she was sure he'd noticed her plane landing, but it did mean that she would reach him sooner. She grinned to herself as she took off. Outside of the city, where there were no cops or speed limits, she could really open up – and she did, pushing her bike faster and faster.

She didn't slow down until she was sure she was nearly upon Vegeta, and then she came right down to a crawl, nearly tipping over as she coasted around. She realized that without another radar, it would be nearly impossible to pinpoint his location, and she made a mental note to install a second one on the bike, or perhaps build a portable one that she could carry with her. She could apply the same principals she had to the Dragon Radar—

She braked and cut the engine suddenly as she crested over a hill and saw him in the distance, standing in a small patch of grass that was browned and burnt from the dry conditions. She hadn't realized how loud her bike was until she turned it off, and suddenly the silence was deafening. She winced. For all her stealth, Bulma was certain that Vegeta knew she was following him. Even if by some chance he hadn't heard her motorcycle, he could sense ki and she didn't think he possessed the skill of relaxing enough to not be aware of his surroundings. Besides, he had been acting so suspiciously she was certain that he would be on-guard. So she didn't think it was necessary for her to creep around the rocky formations that sprouted up from the ground and she walked nearer, but she did so anyway.

As she leaned against a particularly jagged rock, a sharp piece poking into her shoulder blades, she could hear him moving around. Something clinked against something else in a way that made her think the objects were fragile, and she frowned in confusion. Just what was Vegeta doing? Deciding to seize her moment, she peered out from her probably unnecessary hiding spot, and gaped angrily.

He had the Dragon Balls.

All seven Dragon Balls, to be precise, were placed in a neat circle with one in the centre, and Vegeta was stepping back from his handiwork. He had the Dragon Radar in his hand and she watched as he stuffed it into his pocket. Where had he gotten that? she wondered. It was a moment before she realized he must have snagged it from her office. She felt irritation rise in her chest.

Vegeta paused for a moment, looking at the starred balls, and then turned his head ever so slightly in Bulma's direction.

"Come to try to stop me, then?" he asked.

Bulma heard the challenge in his voice, decided not to rise to it. Instead she stepped out from behind the rock and into the sunlight, all her effort in sneaking after him gone like a puff of smoke. "I don't think I can stop you," she admitted. "You're much stronger than me."

She saw his mouth pull downward into a frown. "Why are you creeping around, then?" he asked. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"I could say the same to you," she returned irritably, and he turned back towards the Dragon Balls with an annoyed huff.

"You didn't have to steal the Dragon Radar, you know," she carried on. "I would have just given it to you if you'd asked."

"Is that so," Vegeta said dryly.

"I know you don't believe me."

"No, I don't." He turned around completely so he could face her head-on. "Why would you give it to me? You don't even know what I plan to wish for. Maybe I plan to wish Kakarot dead."

"Shenron couldn't grant that wish," Bulma explained patiently, "because—"

"I don't care," Vegeta snapped. "That isn't my wish. My point was my wish could be anything."

Bulma nodded, agreeing. "Yes. It could. But I trust that you would make a decent wish."

Vegeta stared at her a moment, processing. She watched as his eye twitched in irritation, as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was trying to figure her out, she knew. He was trying to figure out what game she was playing. She stood and waited. She wasn't playing a game. The truth was she did – perhaps stupidly – trust that Vegeta would use the Dragon Balls wisely.

Why? she wondered to herself. Why did she believe that? When had Vegeta ever given her a reason to believe that he would make a pure wish?

"That's foolish," he said at last, and Bulma couldn't deny it.

"So what is your wish?" she asked as he turned away from her again.

"That's not your concern."

She shrugged. "Alright then. I'll just wait here while you make it and then I'll know."

He rounded on her angrily. "Are you going to try to steal it?"

"No." Lowering herself to the ground, she crossed her legs and leaned an elbow on her thigh, her chin coming to rest on her palm: a picture of disinterest.

"Why are you here?" Vegeta demanded.

"Well, Vegeta," she said with an exasperated sigh, "you were sneaking around, you weren't worried about the gravity room, you didn't seem to be training. Obviously you were up to something." She gave him a cheeky grin. "I wondered if perhaps you'd found yourself a lady. Or a gentleman," she amended at his disgusted expression.

"As if I would debase myself—" he began, but she cut him off as though he hadn't spoken.

"To be honest, I was curious. You're such a mystery, Vegeta. I just wanted to know what you were up to." She sat back a bit, her hands meeting the ground behind her so she could lean on them. "So are you going to tell me, or are you going to make me wait?"

To his surprise, Vegeta considered it. He considered telling her. Why not? He would make his wish one way or another, and maybe if he told her she'd leave him alone sooner. Otherwise, she'd stick around and watch him awkwardly summon Shenron (he wasn't entirely sure how to do it – he'd only seen it happen a couple of times) and make his wish. But telling her would feel like he was confiding in her, like he was letting her in on his little secret, and Vegeta was nothing if not closed-off. The longer he watched her though, the longer he let the silence grow between them – surprisingly comfortable, no pressure from her to move the conversation along – the more his guard cracked.

"I'm going to wish to become a Super Saiyan," he said, finally.

Bulma's eyebrows flew up in surprise and she leaned forward seemingly without noticing. He instantly regretted telling her. He could see the judgment on her face. He knew she was about to stop him.

"Oh!" was all she said, but the astonishment was heavy in her tone.

Vegeta frowned at her, unsure how to proceed. What was it about this woman that always had him guessing at what to do next? She was so difficult to read and she never did what he expected her to do. It was infuriating. Finally he moved his attention back to the Dragon Balls, deciding to go forward with his wish.

Her voice stopped him. "Are you sure that's what you want to wish for?"

There it was: her attempt to stop him. The very reason he had hesitated in telling her in the first place. The very reason he had snuck around and gathered the Dragon Balls behind her back.

"Of course I'm sure," he snapped.

"Well, it's just that, you were really sure about immortality before. What changed your mind about that?"

He sneered at her. "Once you've already died, it seems like kind of a stupid wish."

"Oh," she said, her face brightening with comprehension. "You were afraid of death—"

"No—"

"—so you planned to cheat it—"

"That's not—"

"—but now you realize it's inevitable."

"Shut up," he said bitingly. "You don't know anything about it."

"So what, then?" Bulma asked. "Enlighten me."

But he just glared at her, refusing to say anything more. He had already shared enough with her for one day – for a lifetime – and he was completely unwilling to divulge anything else. She wanted to understand him but he didn't want to be understood. Maybe he was beyond understanding.

Her face suddenly became serious and she met his eyes squarely. "This is why I think you shouldn't make that wish. I'm not saying I'm going to stop you: if you really want to make it, then make it, but I think you will regret it and be unhappy with it.

"Vegeta, it's cheating. You'd be taking the shortcut. You won't have earned that strength, you won't have earned the power of the Super Saiyan. You'll always wonder if you were actually good enough, actually strong enough, to become a Super Saiyan on your own. You'll always know that Goku didn't have to wish for it: he unlocked it himself, somehow. You'll always wonder if maybe you'd just waited a little longer, worked a little bit harder, you could have earned it too. And I think you feel the same way about immortality, too. Yeah, nobody could defeat you, but not because you're the best or the strongest. Because you can literally cheat death. And what kind of victory is that? It seems like it would be empty or shallow to me."

She shifted and let her gaze fall to the ground. "If there's one thing I know about you, Vegeta, it's that you are fucking determined. Honestly, you're probably one of the most ambitious people I know. You set goals for yourself and you refuse to let them die, even when it's hard, even when it seems impossible. You have a confidence in yourself that's frankly enviable, even if it's sometimes obnoxious to the people around you." She looked up at him for a brief moment, offering him a grin. "But this just seems like giving up."

She sighed, pressing her hands into the ground to help herself stand up. She dusted the dirt off her pants. "Like I said, if you're set on making this wish, then do it. But I know you can become a Super Saiyan on your own, and I'm willing to help you if you'd just let me. We can collaborate on tech, I can try to create things that you think would help you best, we can work towards it together. And if you want to do it yourself, that's fine too. Sometimes things have to be achieved independently. But making this wish would make being a Super Saiyan a sham. And I think you know that."

He stared at her, stiffly, quietly, the Dragon Radar suddenly feeling heavy and bulky in his pocket.

She granted him a smile then. "Thanks for telling me your plans," she said sincerely, and she tossed a capsule on the ground, her bike reappearing in a puff of smoke, and she was on it and roaring off without another word.

Vegeta watched after her long after he could no longer see her. He felt distinctly uncomfortable, as though someone had found something he had hidden under the floorboards in hopes that it could be hidden forever. Finally, he took up her spot on the ground, his knees bent upwards, and looked at the Dragon Balls for a long time.


Her entire flight home, Bulma kept waiting for the sky to darken with the telltale signs of Shenron's summoning. She couldn't help but feel anxious about it, growing more and more so as the minutes ticked by and nothing happened. It wasn't until she was nearly back at the compound, already coming down for a landing, that the sky blackened like there would be a sudden, torrential rainstorm.

She sighed deeply. What a shame.