Discovery

Bulma stormed through the Capsule Corporation compound with no particular destination in mind. She was frustrated with her parents, school, and the whole world. She was moodier more than usual now that she was a teenager. Right now she was upset that her father suggested she take summer classes at the local community college to get a head-start on her next level of education. She still had a whole year of high school left. She couldn't understand why he would want her to give up her whole summer to do more boring schoolwork when she would much rather spend that time relaxing – or having an adventure. She'd gotten restless the past few years. She was tired of West City and her mundane life of luxury. She wanted to get out and see the world without her parents holding her hands. She was practically a grown woman. At fifteen years of age, she knew all there was to know and she wanted to prove it.

Seeing her mother coming toward her from the other end of the hall, Bulma steered left and took the stairs to the basement of the compound. She rarely went down there. Her nose wrinkled at the musty scent mixed with mothballs, oil, and rusting metal. She flipped the light switch on her way down the stairs and looked around at the abandoned inventions, broken robots, stained carpet, and the dirty old couch with ugly plaid upholstery and sagging frame. She was sure if she sat in it she would sink so far down she would never be able to pull herself free. Shrugging, she sat down with her legs folded under her and crossed her arms over her chest.

'This isn't fair! I shouldn't have to go to college in the first place! It's not like I wouldn't be able to run the company with what I already know. I've already designed some of the inventions that brought in a huge portion of the annual income." She blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. It floated back down, forcing her to reach up and push it behind her ear. "I don't want to start college classes so early anyway. I wanted to take a couple years off from school."

If she were eighteen she would be able to make her own decisions. But since she was still a minor she was under the authority of her parents. Her mother was on the fence about her starting college so soon, but Bulma knew she would side with her father once push came to shove. She was going to be forced to give up her summer to take general education courses. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

"Am I always going to be at least two years younger than everyone else I'm in school with? I want to be with someone my age. Maybe then I would be able to find a boyfriend." She snorted and rolled her eyes. She knew boys were afraid of her. They could no longer accuse her of being a little girl. No one bothered calling her ugly anymore. She was a very attractive girl, and she knew it. Puberty was one of the best things that ever happened to her. Still, no boys dared ask her on a date even if they were interested because she was so much younger, she was a million times smarter, a bit too beautiful, rich, and famous. Add all that to her moodiness, stubbornness, and overbearing personality and she was destined to be single for life. She needed a man who could stand up to her and be the leader instead of letting her bull him over all the time. The likelihood of finding such a man was practically nonexistent.

Bulma shifted her position and hugged her knees to her chest. She was tired of always feeling so angry with everything all the time. She just wanted to be happy for a change. There had to be something in the world that would lighten her mood. Inventing new devices used to help. Fighting used to be enough to make her feel better. She had gone through a stage where all she wanted to do was become an artist, but she found her talent was not in paint, charcoal, or clay. She was determined she needed a new hobby, something that would fill the void in her life. If not that, then maybe some material item that would bring her endless enjoyment. What did she love enough that she could never get tired of it though? Her interests were fickle. One day she could be obsessive about a new gadget and the next she couldn't care less if it was run over by a train and carried into the mountains by a rabies-infested pterodactyl.

She shook her head. It didn't matter anyway. There was no way she was ever going to find something that would truly make her happy. If there were anything out there that could, she would have it already. She was Bulma Brief. She was the richest teenager in the whole world. If what she wanted didn't already exist, she could create it. It was that simple. No, nothing material was ever going to satisfy her. She sighed.

Deciding not to think about her unhappiness anymore, Bulma turned her attention to the odd assortment of piles of junk heaped here and there. It was more like a mechanical graveyard than a basement. She wondered how many of her father's old pet projects were here, abandoned, because he couldn't get them to work or deemed them useless endeavors. She stood up and walked over to the nearest mass of fried motherboards and twisted metal and started digging through it, unconcerned with the possibility of cutting herself on some rusty screw, contracting tetanus, and dying.

"What's this?" she asked as she grabbed a metal rod and tugged on it with all her strength to get it to budge. It was wedged in deeper than she thought. Finally, she got it to move, and in doing so she lost her balance and tumbled over backwards. "Ouch! Stupid thing!"

She tossed aside the metal rod, finding it to be less than interesting now that it led to her seat on the floor, and scowled at the pile of mechanical parts. Her eyes shifted to the floor when she saw something small and round rolling away from the pile, apparently having been knocked away when she moved the metal rod. It was some sort of ball, made of what appeared to be bright orange glass. There were two red stars in the middle. Bulma stood up and patted the dust off her clothes before picking up the strange sphere.

"This is weird. What's it doing in this pile of crap?" She quirked an eyebrow as she rolled the ball around in her hands. She didn't mind that she was getting a thick layer of dust on her hands from touching it. Now curious, Bulma forgot her argument with her father and ran upstairs to find him and ask what the orange ball was for. It didn't look like it belonged being mixed in with a bunch of old mechanical parts. She hurried to his lab to find him and ask where it came from.

"Dad!" she called as she barged in the laboratory, disregarding all the safety precautions she learned from an early age.

Startled, Dr. Brief jumped and banged his head on the hood of the hovercar he was tinkering around in. He rubbed his head and turned around to see his blue-haired daughter racing toward him. "Yes, dear, what is it?"

Bulma held out the ball with two stars. "What's this? I found it in the basement."

Dr. Brief took the ball from her and readjusted his glasses to get a better look at it. Like his daughter, he rolled it around in his hands, carefully examining it. "Ah, yes, this old thing. I believe I bought it at a garage sale or some such thing. I can't remember why. Something about a legend going along with it."

"A legend?" Bulma scoffed. "Legends are just stories."

"You might think so," her father countered, "But I believe there is some degree of truth behind every legend. I can't remember what this thing is supposed to do right off the top of my head. You would have to do some research to find out. Grating a wish, I believe."

Bulma took the orange ball from him and tossed it back and forth in her hands. "A wish?"

Dr. Brief nodded and picked out a wrench from his toolbox. "If I remember correctly. I think this is called a dragon ball. That's all I know about it though."

"A dragon ball? I've never heard of it." Bulma shrugged and turned to leave. "Can I keep it?"

"If you'd like it, dear. I don't need it for anything."

"Thanks, Dad."

Bulma left the laboratory and headed for the library to do a little research. If this dragon ball thing was capable of granting a wish, she wanted to figure out how to make it work. A wish was exactly what she needed. "I wonder why it has two stars? Maybe there's more than one of them. I don't know why it matters. It's a legend. Legends aren't real… right?"

She closed the doors to the library behind her and leaned against them. Where was she supposed to start hunting for a legend she had never even heard of before? She held the dragon ball up and inspected it again. 'If it's real, maybe it's been used to make wishes before.' Nodding to herself, Bulma went to the area of the library where all the old history books were. It included books of history that was obscure, little-known, questionable, or hidden from the public. If any legends were true, information about them was likely to be in one of these books, even if it was mentioned in passing in one measly sentence of the whole collection.

"This looks like a good place to start." Bulma pulled a thick book off the shelf titled Mystical History of the World. The binding was worn, the pages were yellowed, and it had a funny smell unique to ancient books. "This is bound to have something about legends, real or not."

The teenage genius started flipping through the first pages of the book, disappointed to find there were no chapters and thus no table of contents. Turning to the back of the book, she found no index or glossary of terms. 'Great, I'll have to read the whole thing. As if I have time for that.' She considered returning the book to its shelf and picking a different one, but she doubted any would be more useful in learning about magic and legends and wish-granting dragon balls than the one she had. She flipped through the book a few times. She sneezed as dust flew out of the pages.

Bulma carried the book to one of the brown leather chairs in the library and sat down. The leather groaned as she wiggled to find a comfortable reading position. She set the book on the armrest and opened it to the first page and began reading.

The beginning of the history of the modern world begins in Age 461 when an evil demon named King Piccolo came into being. This terrible demon had offspring who rampaged cities across the Earth, killing hundreds of thousands of people wherever they went. It was King Piccolo's goal to become the ruler of the world.

"A demon killed most of the human population?" Bulma's skepticism nearly made her stop reading after the first short paragraph, but her curiosity was greater and so she proceeded on to learn more about the demon King Piccolo and his reign of terror. In school she had always learned that the population of Earth was nearly wiped out when some kind of mutated virus spread in the worst epidemic in all of human history. Scientific-minded as she was, she was more inclined to believe that explanation than the one the book offered.

Bulma spent the next few hours reading through the book. It was much more interesting than she originally gave it credit for, but she still didn't believe half of the tales it told. When she was over halfway through the book and still hadn't run across any mention of the dragon balls, she was growing frustrated. Interesting or not, she wanted to learn about that legend, not how the human race repopulated the planet after King Piccolo mysteriously disappeared, possibly at the hands of a great martial arts master named Mutaito.

'Hm, Mutaito, never heard of him. Maybe I'll have to look him up later.' Bulma dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book. She stood up and stretched her arms over her head with a deep yawn. It was getting late and she needed to head to bed if she hoped to get up on time to make it to school without another tardy. She grabbed the book and the two star dragon ball and left the library to go to her bedroom.

The blue-haired teenager set her items on her nightstand, pulled her shirt and jeans off, and changed into a long-sleeved pink nightshirt. She went into her bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face and took her hair out of the ponytail she had it in and brushed it out. She looked herself over in her mirror when she was done, carefully scrutinizing her teeth, her hair, and her skin to make sure there were no blemishes. She gave herself a sparkling smile and walked out of her bathroom and sat down on the edge of her bed.

She had let herself become distracted by the dragon ball and the weird history book. She had more important matters to think about. There had to be a way to convince her father that she wouldn't take college courses over the summer. She still had a few months to worry about that, but it was almost time for summer class sign-ups. 'Maybe if I figure out this wish thing I can wish that I never have to finish high school or go to college,' she mused. 'Nah, that won't make me happy in the long run. Maybe a lifetime supply of strawberries. I love strawberries. That would be a good wish. Then even when they're not in season I would still have them all the time and they would be perfectly ripe.'

Deciding that was a good enough wish to go to sleep on, Bulma pulled back the covers and slid into bed. She turned the lamp on her nightstand off and rolled onto her side. She figured she would finish reading the book the next day, and if that didn't have anything useful she would go back to the library and find something else to read. She was determined to find out what the legend was. Her father said there was truth behind every legend. Well, was there truth behind the wish-granting magical orbs? The dragon ball seemed mystical enough. Something about it just seemed supernatural in its simplicity. She yawned and closed her eyes. There would be plenty of time to think about it in the morning.

…

Vegeta opened his eyes and blinked a few times until he adjusted to the dim light in his space pod. Straight ahead he could see the point of light that was his next destination. It was a large planet, far from its star, most likely a freezing cold ice planet with few inhabitants. But the few that were there were renowned for their strength. They would have to be strong to survive in such an uninhabitable environment. Vegeta wasn't thrilled about this particular mission. Even if the people there were strong, Frieza could have sent someone who was more accustomed to the extreme cold. But Vegeta wasn't going to argue about being sent on a mission. It had been a few months since his last assignment and he was craving battle. Spars with Nappa and Raditz weren't enough for him anymore. They were weak in comparison. While his strength continued multiplying with each beating he received from Frieza, they stayed at the same pitiful level with only minor incremental increasesafter purge missions and training sessions.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. After sitting still for seven months he was in need of a new position. He desperately needed to stretch out. He couldn't wait for landfall so he could get out of the tiny space pod and move around. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he waited to reach the planet that was growing by the second. Only another minute or so…

"Landfall in one minute. Prepare for impact." Vegeta rolled his eyes at the computerized voice and crossed his arms over his chest. Prepare for impact? Whatever.

"Now entering the planet's atmosphere." The saiyan felt the retrorockets fire up and slow the descent, giving him the familiar lurching feeling as the planet's gravity took hold of his space pod and pulled it down. His fingers rapped impatiently against his biceps. Landing seemed to take forever. Out the porthole he could see a cloud cover, then everything was a misty gray, and then he saw the pure white ground growing closer and closer. He relaxed every muscle in his body right before his pod slammed into the ground, kicking up feet of snow and dust to form a sizable crater. He heard two more pods hit the ground nearby.

Vegeta opened the hatch and stepped out of his space pod. He was almost knocked over by the gust of wind that instantly chilled him to the bone. He muttered to himself in several languages as he rubbed his arms to keep warm and trudged through the snow to the top of his crater. His feet were wet from the melted snow around his pod. That was just great. Now he was going to get hypothermia. It took a lot to get a saiyan cold enough to experience any adverse effects, but this planet was definitely cold enough. He shivered and tightened his tail around his waist in a feeble attempt to get warmer.

'This planet is stupid. Why the hell would Frieza want it? Maybe he'll keep it as his new home planet. That bastard likes the cold.' Vegeta shook the snow that had been accumulating out of his feathery hair and waited for the other saiyans to emerge from their space pods. He thought they were purposely taking their time. Probably they weren't very eager to get out of the warmth of their pods and face the eternal blizzard that froze the planet.

'Come on you fools!' Vegeta hunched his shoulders, but, remembering that would only make him colder in the long run, forced his muscles to relax to maximize blood circulation.

The hatches of the space pods opened simultaneously and the two large saiyans crawled out of them. Vegeta quirked an eyebrow when he saw them wearing full body suits similar to his own, except they were black. That must have been what took them so long. They were changing into armor more suitable for the environment. At least they thought ahead for a change. Not that the body suits were enough to keep them warm. He was freezing.

"Prince Vegeta," Nappa said, kneeling down in the deep snow. Beside him Raditz knelt as well. "What are your orders?"

Vegeta sighed and reluctantly reached up to push the button on his scouter. He would rather keep his arm crossed over his chest with his hand buried in his armpit where it was warm. His scouter came to life and numbers started scrawling across the display screen. Several of the power level readings were close by, some moving closer at high velocities. Apparently they had been detected and some warriors were on the way to eliminate any hostile visitors. Vegeta smirked. Only on the planet for a few minutes and he was already going to get a good fight. While he was looking forward to a challenge, he was even more excited about some exercise that would warm him up.

The prince turned back to his loyal subjects and grunted his permission for them to rise. They stood up and brushed the snow off their knees. "There are seven warriors headed straight for us. We will wait for them. Nappa, you will take the first two to arrive. I will take the next three. Raditz, wait for the last two."

"Yes, sir," Nappa and Raditz mumbled.

It seemed like a lifetime before the first warrior appeared on the horizon, though in reality it was only a few minutes after Vegeta gave his orders. As he came closer the saiyans were able to see him better; he was tall, much taller than Nappa, covered in thick, shaggy fur as white as the snow, he had long, jagged teeth that protruded from his wide mouth, and pale blue eyes that seemed to glow. His fingers and toes each had a long, black claw that curved like a hook, shaping them into deadly weapons.

One corner of Vegeta's lip turned down when he saw the first one land a few yards away from them. "What is this? A fucking abominable snowman?"

"Sure is ugly, whatever it is," Nappa said as a smirk curled his lips.

"Maybe we can skin it and use its hide to keep us warm for the rest of this mission," Raditz laughed. So it was big, furry, and had claws, so what? The saiyans had seen more formidable adversaries in their time. They had seen creatures that were bigger, furrier, and had longer claws and worse-looking teeth. Besides, this thing's power level was only 1600 on their scouters. It would be no sweat defeating it.

The creature growled and crouched down in a defensive stance. "Why have you come here?" it yelled in its native language.

Vegeta lifted his chin proudly. "We're here to destroy your race, you disgusting fur-ball."

"We'll see about that!"

"Yes, I suppose we will." Vegeta cocked his head to the side. "Nappa."

The bald saiyan stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. He was ready for a good fight. It had been a long time since he'd gone up against someone who didn't seriously outclass him. Namely, his prince. "So, the puppy wants to play rough, eh?"

"Kill him fast, Nappa. I don't want to spend any more time on this ice planet than I have to." Vegeta's eyes shifted to the sky where another one of the creatures was flying toward them. "We have company. Hurry and get this over with."

Nappa frowned before lowering himself into his fighting stance across from the first creature. He liked to draw his fights out as much as possible, using each battle as a way to learn new techniques and test his abilities to the fullest. But he agreed with his prince. He hated the cold as much as any saiyan and wanted to leave the planet they were on as soon as possible and go somewhere warm, even if it was Frieza's spaceship.

He shot forward and ducked under a clawed hand, driving his heel into the creature's gut and knocking him over effortlessly. While it thrashed around in the snow to regain its footing, Nappa flew high above him and started gathering energy in the palm of his right hand. He twisted around like a baseball pitcher before letting his ki ball fly. "Here you go!"

It was a direct hit. When light of the explosion faded, there was nothing to see but a hole in the snow with black mud and water at the bottom. Nappa turned his head to face the next creature that had almost reached them at that point. He grinned and gathered smaller orbs of ki in both hands and hurled them at the creature before it had time to react. The first blast of ki knocked it off course and the second sent it hurtling to the ground. Nappa took off after it and shot a powerful beam of ki at it before it could move out of the way.

"Well that was no fun at all," Nappa grumbled as he lowered himself to the ground to stand between Raditz and Vegeta.

"We're not here for fun," Vegeta reminded him.

"You think that's the best this planet's got?" Nappa asked.

Vegeta shrugged and levitated off the ground when two more creatures came into view not too far away. "If it is it only means we'll be done here sooner."

The two older saiyans watched as Vegeta phased out of sight and reappeared behind the two approaching warriors. He slammed his elbows down on their necks, sending them crashing into the ground below. Vegeta cupped his hands at his side and started gathering bright violet ki.

"Wow, he's really not messing around," Raditz commented. He glanced back down at the creatures lying on the ground, probably unconscious. He almost pitied them. Almost.

Nappa grunted. "He never does."

"He used to."

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that he gets stronger."

"He's lost his love of fighting. He's a saiyan. He should live for battle."

They watched as the violet beam of ki fell to the ground and exploded on impact, incinerating the bodies of the two warriors. Nappa and Raditz covered their eyes with their arms to protect themselves from the flying debris and blinding flash of light.

"To him no one is worth fighting anymore. He's too strong for these peons."

"He could still play with them before killing them off."

Nappa shrugged one shoulder. He saw the same thing Raditz did. Vegeta used to enjoy the purge missions, at least to a degree. He never really liked killing the civilians. There was no honor in that, and Vegeta always tried desperately to hold on to his saiyan honor. But the warriors, he loved fighting them. Battles gave him the rush of adrenaline every saiyan craved. He was addicted to meeting new challenges. Not anymore, though. Now all he cared about was getting the missions over with as soon as possible. They rarely took longer than a week where it used to sometimes take a whole month. It wasn't all because he was so much stronger. It was because he refused to take the time to battle the warriors on each planet. He killed them off fast, never bothering to learn from them.

Vegeta spotted the next warrior and sent a ki blast its way. He lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. "The next two are yours, Raditz."

"Yes, sir."

While Raditz was preparing for his fights, Vegeta activated his scouter to locate the rest of the life forms on the planet. He knew there wouldn't be many to find, but he wasn't willing to miss a single one. The scouter indicated a small group with low power levels a few hundred miles south of where they were. There was another cluster several miles to the west. A few more were scattered across the planet by themselves. The scouter did not find any other power signatures. Vegeta turned it off and waited for Raditz to defeat the two warriors before splitting up to kill the rest of them.

"It's a pity we're never sent on missions to planets that have real fighters," Nappa said.

Vegeta sighed and squatted with his arms resting on his knees. "What difference would it make? We would kill them all anyway."

"Well, yeah, but at least it would be a challenge! It gets boring killing everyone so easily. I want a real battle for a change."

The prince shook his head. "And be like Frieza? No. I kill quickly instead of drawing out the inevitable. I let Frieza's victims have the dignity of a fast death." The kind of death he wanted for himself. His life was nothing more than a slow, prolonged, torturous murder. Every slight to his pride, every order he had to follow, every blow he received in his regular beatings, every word of respect he ever spoke to the lizard, it all killed a part of him. It tore away his very identity. He was a prince, the crown prince of the most powerful race in the universe. Unfortunately it was an empty title. He was nothing. He would never amount to anything. He was a slave and nothing more. He belonged to the sadistic bastard that was killing him, cutting him down inch by inch. Every passing year marked another year of survival, but that was all it was. Survival. Not life.

Neither of the elite saiyans paid attention as Raditz easily dispatched the last two warriors who came to fight them. Vegeta was lost in his own thoughts while Nappa watched over him, wondering why he hadn't realized it before. Vegeta didn't lose the enjoyment in fighting. He was simply reacting against his greatest fear: becoming like Frieza. By disallowing himself from taking pleasure in his fights he was only making himself more miserable. He was a saiyan warrior. He needed battle. It was in his blood.

When Raditz came over to them after finishing off the seventh warrior, Nappa and Vegeta looked up at him, broken from their reveries. Vegeta stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "There is a group of these things to the south and another group to the west. You two split up and take them. I'm going to go after the rest."

"Yes, sir."

Vegeta blasted off to the northeast, leaving Raditz and Nappa to decide who would take each group of natives. Nappa checked his scouter to see the power levels. There was no significant difference between the two groups. "You take the west. I'll go south."

Raditz hesitated in leaving. "Nappa, tell me. You know what's wrong with him."

Nappa floated a foot above the ground, his hands clenching and unclenching in fists. "Later. Go."

"Fine." Raditz leaped into the air and rocketed toward the group of native creatures west of their landing site. He snarled as his frustration grew. He wanted to know what was wrong with his prince. He wanted to fix the problem. He probably wouldn't be able to, but he would do anything he could to help. Seeing Vegeta acting so lifeless was more frightening than being on the receiving end of one of his infamous tantrums.

The cold stung his face as he flew against the blustering wind. The soft flakes of snow felt more like tiny shards of glass as they whipped against his bare skin. Tears formed from the cold wind and leaked out of the corners of his eyes, instantly freezing on his cheeks. Vegeta didn't bother wiping the ice from his face and eyelashes. He didn't care. He never cared about much of anything anymore. He was numb, and not from the cold.

There was no sense of accomplishment in his kills. He never got a rush from seeing his opponents die by his hands. He felt nothing when he blew up cities and decimated entire civilizations. He felt no remorse when he took the lives of innocents. There was no pleasure when he fought a worthy adversary. Nothing. Killing meant survival. Survival meant more time to grow stronger. Growing stronger meant he could keep surviving. It was an endless, meaningless cycle he couldn't break free from. He used to want to be free. Now he hardly even cared. His rage had died down to a burning ember in the deepest recesses of his being. He was nothing but a shell. But even if he was dead inside, he refused to become like Frieza. He would not be a monster. No matter how much he wanted to be alive again, he would not stoop to that.

Vegeta stopped mid-flight and formed a small ki blade in his right hand. He held it to his throat and imagined the brief pain as it slashed through his skin and cut into his jugular. He could practically feel the hot blood flowing freely down his neck and chest, pooling under his breastplate as he gasped for his last breath. He pressed the blade against his neck, letting it burn his skin. He closed his eyes and prepared to jerk his hand to the right, slicing through his skin and muscle with ease.

'Coward.'

He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He felt the ki blade against his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down.

'Frieza will win.'

"Hasn't he already?" Vegeta cringed at the sound of his own voice. Hollow, dead. The only sound to be heard for miles aside from the howling wind.

"Vegeta, you come from a strong bloodline and you possess the potential power to join the super elite of all saiyans. Never forget where you're from and train very hard, my son, because if you've proven yourself worthy, perhaps someday you will become a super saiyan."

Vegeta snorted. "Who the hell were you kidding, father? I'm a disgrace."

'Only if you give up now.'

"Shut up."

'You must defeat him for your people!'

"I'm as good as dead anyway." Vegeta sighed and dropped his hand to his side. The ki blade dissipated. "What's the point of continuing this pathetic excuse for a life?"

'You will defeat him.'

Vegeta raked his hand through his hair. "How do you know?"

There was no answer. Vegeta shook his head and clenched his hands into fists as he took off to the north. Why was he wasting his time arguing with himself and dredging up the past? Those words of his father haunted him every day of his life, reminding him every time that he was a failure. But more than that, his desire to prove that voice right grew every time that memory replayed in his mind. It promised him success. He desperately wanted it to be right. He wanted more than anything in the universe to know what it meant to live. He would sacrifice anything to feel again.

A/N: Is Bulma OOC that much? I didn't think so. I could just say "it's an AU" and leave it at that, but here's the real explanation: Bulma's personality is a little different in this story because of Vegeta's influence on her. As Dr. Brief thought when he was watching them train together, she learned some discipline with Vegeta. So basically, she's not as wild, outspoken, and crazy as in CU. She is by no means docile now, but she has better control over her impulsiveness. However, to an extent that will fade and she will become more like the Bulma in canon, though not fully. As a teenager she becomes more sure of herself and accordingly more selfish and self-absorbed.

Sorry if Vegeta was a bit angsty. Come on, he has every right to be. He's a monster's pawn. And he's a teenager. Give him a break. Worry more about what that last part could mean for our favorite little saiyan...

Vegeta: 16
Bulma: 15