Competition

He gazed across the table at her clear blue eyes, a dumb smile spread across his face. His hand rested on hers. She was the best part of being back, the reason he was so eager to return from Otherworld. She was his sweetheart, the love of his life, the most gorgeous, amazing woman on the whole planet. She should have been his wife already, but fate dealt them a wildcard and it just hadn't happened yet. Yet. He squeezed her hand as he worked up the courage to ask her the question that had been running through his mind since the moment he was given his new life.

"So, B, we're still getting married, aren't we?"

It should have been an automatic yes. There should have been no pause, no hesitation. Maybe even a suggestion to elope, finish the job, get married as soon as possible, forget the formalities of a wedding. They waited long enough. But she didn't give him an automatic yes. She did pause, clearly hesitating. She did not suggest they elope, and she didn't even look happy with his question, or at least the timing. She smiled, but it was weak, and she looked down at their hands as she drew in a deep breath.

"B?"

"Let's not discuss that right now, Yam." Bulma pulled her hand away from his and leaned back in her seat, the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating her ivory skin tantalizingly. His eyes roamed down her neck and over her bare shoulders, to her low strapless dress, and then the table. He looked back up at her eyes, her beautiful eyes.

Yamcha felt his heart sink. He swallowed, but his mouth was dry. "What's wrong with now? Don't you want to marry me?"

"I still love you, if that's what you mean. It's just – it's just that so much has happened since our wedding was wrecked. You left for a year to train, then you died." Bulma sighed and pulled at the hem of her short dress. "It's a lot to take in, and now that you're back, well, I can hardly believe it, you know? I think I'd like to wait—not long! Just – just a little while."

He nodded sadly. "It's okay, I think I understand."

They sat quietly, not having much to say for having been separated for two years. His eyes never left her, but she kept averting her eyes, trying to look anywhere but at him. It was silly, she told herself. Why was she acting like this with him? She didn't lie. She did love him, and she did hope to marry him – someday. She needed to work through some things first, though. For example, the feelings she had for another man. How could she explain that to Yamcha? He wouldn't understand. He would be jealous, and rightly so. She hadn't even known her heart was straying until he came back and the old passion she had for him wasn't there.

Yamcha broke the silence when he asked, "It's not because of the saiyans, is it?"

Yes. Bulma shook her head. "No, don't be ridiculous, Yam."

"I still don't like them living with you. It doesn't seem like a good idea." He knew his words were falling on deaf ears. It had been over a month since he was revived and she had yet to kick them out of Capsule Corporation.

"Why?" she asked, raising her wine glass to take a sip. "What are you so worried about? You think they'll take advantage of me? Nappa's way old, Raditz is too busy training with Goku, and Vegeta's like a brother to me."

'Or maybe something more,' she thought. As far as she knew, most girls didn't have dreams about kissing their brothers. At least, not girls who didn't have some serious perverted issues. Not in the way she dreamed about kissing Vegeta, that is.

"So you've said. But it's not just you I'm worried about. What about your parents?"

"What about them?"

"What if the saiyans decide to hurt them?"

"If they wanted to hurt them, they would have done it already. Besides, even if they're not living with us, they could hurt us. No walls, gates, or security systems could keep them out if they really wanted in." She finished her glass of wine and set it on the table.

"If that was supposed to reassure me, it didn't."

"Imagine."

More than her refusals to discuss marriage, it was her short, disinterested replies to his concerns and feelings that made him think something was seriously wrong in their relationship. She never got mad at him anymore, which in his previous life might have been a blessing, but now he had the feeling she just plain didn't care about him. He was learning that anger and hatred are not the opposite of love. Apathy is.

Yamcha took his napkin off his lap, wadded it up, and threw it on the table in front of him. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I'll take you home."

The couple stood up and left the restaurant, in the past one of their favorite date places. The mood and lighting was always right, but tonight it felt off. Perhaps it was because it was a romantic setting around a collapsing couple. Outside, Yamcha opened the door for Bulma before running around to get in the driver's seat. The drive to the Capsule Corporation compound was quiet; Bulma stared out her window and Yamcha focused on the road ahead. Silence. It was all they had anymore.

'What happened to us?' Bulma wondered as she watched the lights of the city fly past. 'I do still love him, don't I? It's just been a long time. It feels weird to jump in and pick up where we left off. That's all. It'll get better. I know it will.'

Yamcha stopped in front of the main gate to the compound and got out to open Bulma's door for her. She got out and smiled at him. "Thanks, Yam. I had a good time. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure, B. I love you."

Bulma gave him a quick, passionless kiss goodnight and walked through the gates to her home. Yamcha sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. He had to find some way to win her back, to make her want to marry him again. He refused to believe he missed his only chance. They were meant to be together, a perfect couple. So why wasn't it working?

The next morning, after breakfast, Bulma was helping her mother with the dishes when the doorbell rang. Bulma dried her hands and went to the front door to answer it. The first thing she saw when she opened the door was a dozen red roses, then the smiling face of her fiancé. She smiled and took the roses from him. "Yamcha? You're here awfully early."

"Yes, I would like to come in," he joked. He stepped inside and closed the door, bending over to peck her cheek. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine. I was just helping Mom with the dishes. You can sit in the kitchen," she said distractedly as she went back through the door. She laid the roses on the counter and went over to the sink to continue washing the breakfast dishes. Yamcha followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the kitchen table to wait.

Mrs. Brief turned around when she heard the chair scraping across the tile floor. "Oh, hello, Yamcha, how are you? Would you like some coffee?"

"No thanks, Mrs. Brief. I'm doing great."

"That's nice, honey." Mrs. Brief turned back around and handed a skillet to Bulma to clean again when she saw there was still some traces of cooked-on egg stuck to it.

"So where are the saiyans?" Yamcha asked, trying to sound nonchalant. He could feel two massive powers around the compound, but the third one was missing. He wanted to know who it was and where he was.

Bulma finished scrubbing the skillet and handed it back to her mother to dry and put away. "Raditz went over to Goku's to train. Vegeta's probably in the gravity room, and Nappa's either training out back or meditating somewhere.

Mrs. Brief put the skillet in its cupboard and clasped her hands together. "Oh, it's so wonderful how hard that young man works! I swear, all he ever does is train! I think it's admirable how dedicated he is."

Yamcha coughed. "What young man?"

"Vegeta, of course," Mrs. Brief said. She dried another plate and put it away.

"Admirable, Mom?" Bulma snorted. "It's obsessive. He's going to get himself hurt one of these days."

"Oh, I don't know—"

"Mom, he trains for hours on end! That's screaming potential injury." Bulma handed her another plate to put away.

Mrs. Brief giggled as she took the plate and dried it off. "You're just worried about him, sweetie, I know."

Yamcha listened to the women talking, hardly believing a word they said. He couldn't understand how two people who loved peace so much could stand having a trio of monsters living under their roof. Not only did they stand the saiyans, but they actually seemed to enjoy having them around, as if they were great company or something. It made his stomach lurch.

"I don't see why you let them live here," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "They come here, kill a few thousand people, including me, and you think they're wonderful people! You should kick them out before they inevitably turn on you."

Mrs. Brief dropped the bowl she was drying. The clatter as it hit the counter caught Yamcha's attention. He looked over and snapped his mouth shut when he saw Mrs. Brief frowning at him with her hands on her hips. "Young man, how could you say such a thing?"

"Say what?"

"That they would turn on us!" Mrs. Brief stamped her foot, her heel clicking on the floor. "I know it's hard for you to forgive them; after all, you did die fighting them, but I will not let you talk about my son that way!"

Yamcha's mouth fell open. "Your son?"

"Vegeta." Mrs. Brief picked up the bowl and shoved it in the cupboard overhead. "I would never throw him out on the streets! We opened our home to him and he belongs here as much as Bulma or myself."

"Of course, Mrs. Brief. I'm sorry," Yamcha murmured sheepishly.

Outside, Nappa was practicing his kata when he felt Vegeta's ki spike in the gravity room as another low power level came to the compound, no doubt the scar-faced weakling. Shaking his head, Nappa paused in his exercise and landed on the ground. Vegeta's possessiveness over the blue-haired girl was either amusing or concerning; he hadn't decided which it was yet. He was more inclined to think it was funny how Vegeta kept throwing the other fighter out whenever given the opportunity. He had to admit, they were both persistent in having Bulma to themselves. What was it about her that made men her age fight for her attention?

Maybe the fact that she was a very attractive woman. At least, that would probably be enough to make any human male want to be with her. But Vegeta? He wasn't interested in outside appearance. Not that much anyway. No, there was something else going on there. Nappa supposed it was part of his pack instinct trying to keep unworthy mates from her, and the weakling was definitely unworthy of her. Bulma was actually the most saiyan-like non-saiyan he had ever met. No human was worthy of that.

Nappa shook his head again. What was he thinking? Bulma wasn't a saiyan. She was a human and therefore a human was worthy of her. Right?

Shrugging, Nappa went inside to the kitchen to get a snack. He ate breakfast only half an hour ago, but he really wanted an excuse to go inside and see what was going on with the weakling. Before he reached the kitchen he could hear the female Briefs talking, then there was a comment by a male, the scar-faced idiot. Nappa paused when the normally sing-song voice of Mrs. Brief raised in anger as she snapped at the man. So, she thought of Vegeta as her son? Nappa smirked. The Briefs were borderline insane, but they were a good pack for Vegeta. His prince chose the humans well, he had to admit.

He opened the kitchen door and went inside, purposefully ignoring the human sitting at the table. He could hear his gasp and the following scent of fear as he walked over to the refrigerator. What a pathetic excuse for a warrior.

"Nappa, dear," Mrs. Brief chided playfully, "You just had breakfast."

The large saiyan grunted and opened the refrigerator and started rifling through its contents. "Hungry again."

"What a surprise," Bulma commented.

Nappa pulled a loaf of bread and meat and cheese out of the refrigerator and carried it to the table, sitting across from Yamcha, though he still ignored him. "What're you making for lunch, Mrs. Brief?"

The bubbly blonde giggled. "Is food all you boys ever think about? Well, I haven't quite decided yet. I think maybe some pasta and bread…" she trailed off, tapping her chin as she thought about what to fix for the hungry saiyans. She usually tried to pack their lunches with carbohydrates since they always worked so hard.

Yamcha recoiled in disgust when Nappa started making sandwiches and eating them in two bites. Before long the whole loaf of bread was gone and there was no meat or cheese left on the table. Nappa belched and stood up to go back to training. "Whatever you make, you better make a lot of it. Vegeta's up to 275Gs and he's going to be hungry."

Bulma nearly dropped the plate she was scrubbing. "He's at 275 already?" She was impressed that he was progressing so rapidly, but he was also close to reaching the maximum gravity the simulator could provide, which meant soon he would be demanding another upgrade. "That's just great. I still haven't figured out how to make the gravity room able to withstand higher gravity and he's going to want an upgrade when he reaches 300."

Nappa shrugged as he went to the door. "Probably. Better get working on it. He'll be at 300 by the end of the week I bet."

"Thanks for letting me know, Nappa," Bulma sighed. She turned back to the dishes after he left the kitchen. "How am I supposed to make a physically impossible upgrade? I guess I'll have to put my work on hold again."

"Why would you do that?" Yamcha asked.

"Do what? Drop everything and make an upgrade for the prince?" Bulma asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. She chuckled humorlessly. "Because he needs it and my dad doesn't have time to work on it."

Yamcha huffed. "I don't know, 300Gs seems like plenty to me."

"Not for Vegeta," Bulma said.

Mrs. Brief grinned as she put the last dish away. "He is a hard worker, isn't he, dear?"

Bulma snorted. "Obsessive-compulsive, maybe. But I know he's trying to get strong enough to defeat Frieza. How strong could that guy possibly be, anyway? Vegeta told me his power level is over 250,000 now. That's insane. I can't imagine anyone being stronger."

Yamcha's face paled. "Over 250 thousand? Did I hear you right?"

The blue-haired woman beamed with pride for her adopted brother. "Yep. Great, isn't it?"

"Hardly."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. Great, yeah." He laughed nervously, suddenly feeling the urge to leave Capsule Corporation. But he wouldn't leave yet. He came with a purpose, and that purpose was to get Bulma to go out with him. "So anyway, B, I was hoping you might want to go out to lunch with me."

Bulma shook her head as she leaned against the counter and dried her hands. "Sorry, Yam, but I've got to get busy working on Vegeta's upgrade."

"Come on, we won't be out that long! His upgrade can wait."

"You can stay here for lunch if you want to eat lunch with me, Yamcha," she said firmly. "His upgrade is more important than a date right now."

That hurt. It wasn't the first time he was cast aside to make room for Vegeta. Honestly, he was starting to get tired of it. Bulma was his fiancée and he should get her attention, not some overgrown monkey prince. He would have told her so, too, but he didn't want to insult Vegeta in front of Mrs. Brief – her wrath was more terrifying than anything Bulma could ever say or do. Yamcha got up and went over to Bulma, taking her hands in his.

"Alright, I'll stay for lunch if it's not too much trouble."

"It's fine, dear," Mrs. Brief said from the other side of the kitchen.

Yamcha smiled. "Then I guess it's settled. I'll stay for lunch."

Bulma nodded, forcing a smile. "Great, Yam. But I'll be working in my lab all morning. I guess you can just hang out and do whatever you want until lunch. I'll see you then." She pulled her hands free and gently pushed past him, not pausing to let him peck her cheek.

Vegeta wasn't paying attention to the visitor to Capsule Corporation. He really wasn't. He just happened to notice that the girl's ki was in her laboratory and the weakling idiot was upstairs, probably in the recreation room wasting time playing video games or watching television. He snorted. What a fool. What was he doing at the compound anyway? Since he threw him out the first time, Yamcha hadn't come by for long visits, usually coming to pick up Bulma for dates – which, he noticed, she was never too eager to go on – or drop her off after their apparently failed dates. Vegeta was pleased that she never stank of his scent, at least not too much, so he knew she hadn't had sexual relations with him. He couldn't quite explain why that relieved him so much. He figured it was his need to protect her from an unworthy mate. As her pack mate, it was his duty to see to it that she had the best mate she could get, and that idiot wasn't it.

Yes, he was her pack mate, and the scar-faced fighter wasn't. That automatically gave him first dibs on her attention and loyalty. Perhaps she was in love with the earthling male, but she didn't seem terribly interested in him. That only served to make Vegeta more skeptical about earthling emotions and attachments, which he already perceived to be weak and frivolous. Hence, every time she spoke of her boyfriend or fiancé or whatever he was in a less than ideal light, Vegeta smirked on the inside. He heard her mention on more than one occasion since the fool was resurrected that he had pushed her to finish getting married at long last, but so far she had refused every time. Each time the weakling was rejected he felt like it was his own personal victory, even if he had nothing to do with it. The blue-haired girl was still his, and he wasn't willing to share her with someone so unworthy.

At lunch, there was palpable tension between the saiyan prince and the earthling warrior. Bulma sat between them, feeling their mutual hostility like a weight on her shoulders. Being put in the middle was no longer a metaphor. She sighed enough times through the meal for even her mother to notice, but she didn't say much at all to anyone. Who would she talk to? If she had a conversation with Yamcha, Vegeta would be upset that she was ignoring him (he didn't have to tell her for her to know he was jealous of her fiancé). If she tried to talk to Vegeta, he wouldn't answer anyway, and Yamcha would be jealous that she was talking to him without hope for a response when she could have a pleasant chat with him.

Her reluctance to speak didn't fool either of them. They knew she was making an effort not to play favorites, which could only mean that she did have a favorite. The only question was who it was. As soon as Bulma finished eating, she stood up and rested her hands on their shoulders. "It was nice of you to come by, Yam. I need to get back to work, so I'll see you some other time. And Vegeta, I'll see you at dinner. Try not to break anything while training. I'm going to be busy working on upgrades; I'm sure you won't want me having to spend time repairing old things when I could be designing new things, right?" She patted their shoulders and hastily retreated from the kitchen before either of them could reply.

Vegeta smirked as Yamcha, visibly upset, stood up and gave a quick goodbye to Mrs. Brief as he left the kitchen., then snickered when he felt the weakling's ki leave the compound and move away rapidly.

Mrs. Brief, clueless as ever, smiled and shrugged as she started gathering up the dirty dishes to carry to the sink. "Well, that was a nice visit, don't you think?"

"Hn." Vegeta stood up and stretched before going over to lean against the counter as he waited for Mrs. Brief to finish clearing off the table so they could go grocery shopping. He didn't think it was a very nice visit at all, but he wasn't in the mood to express his opinion, regardless of how strong it was. He watched Nappa stand up, chuckling to himself about something, and leave the kitchen to go back to training. Vegeta crossed his arms and rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he impatiently waited for Mrs. Brief to get ready to go shopping. The things he did for his pack…

The next day, Vegeta, Bulma, Nappa, and Mrs. Brief were again sitting around the kitchen table eating lunch when Bulma's cell phone rang. She excused herself from the table and went out to the hall to talk, but the saiyans could still hear her clearly, though her voice was somewhat muffled through the wall.

"Yamcha, hey," she said, feigning enthusiasm. "What's up?"

There was a light chuckle on the other end. "Hey, B. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight."

She rolled her eyes. "Yam, you know I'm super busy."

"I know, hon, but come on, it'll be a lot of fun. I promise."

Bulma sighed and crossed her free arm over her chest as she leaned against the wall. Almost smiling, she asked, "You're going to keep asking me out until I agree, aren't you?"

"That was the plan."

This was why she loved him. He was persistent in his courtship, chasing after her as if she were the prize jewel of the world. She was all he wanted, the only thing he could think about. It was sweet. She slowly released her breath, silently debating with herself whether or not she should go to dinner with him. On the one hand, she was incredibly busy, trying to balance her regular work at Capsule Corporation while developing upgrades for the gravity room; but on the other hand, she didn't want to keep pushing Yamcha away. He was still her fiancé, and she felt obligated to go on dates with him, even when she didn't feel like it. Though, after the roses the day before, his willingness to stick around the compound despite the saiyans' presence, and now his phone call and confession that he would keep trying, she did feel more inclined to want to spend some time with him.

"Alright, Yamcha, but I can't stay out too late, okay?"

"No problem, B. I'll pick you up at six?"

"Sounds good. See you then." Bulma hung up and stuffed her phone back in her pocket before going into the kitchen to finish eating her lunch. When she sat down, she looked over when she heard a faint, rumbling growl coming from her saiyan friend. He had paused in his eating, choosing instead to snarl at it with his fists clenched on the table. She looked down at his lap and saw the tip of his tail flicking erratically, so much that she wouldn't be surprised if it unwound from his waist to lash about.

Figuring she didn't want to know what had him so upset, Bulma shrugged and picked up her chopstick to finish eating. If she was going on a date she needed to hurry up and get back to work so she could get as much done as possible before getting ready for her date. That would take at least an hour. It was only a few minutes before she finished and stood up to return to her laboratory. On her way out of the kitchen, she told her mother, "I'm not going to be here for dinner. I'm going out with Yamcha."

"Okay, sweetie," Mrs. Brief called over her shoulder. When her daughter disappeared, the blonde woman sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "I wish she wouldn't go out with that man. He isn't right for her."

Snorting, Vegeta finally decided to finish eating. He had to agree with Mrs. Brief. Bulma did not belong with Yamcha at all, though for what reason he still couldn't quite place. Nappa likewise believed Bulma and Yamcha shouldn't be together. He watched Mrs. Brief from the corner of his eye as he finished eating, wondering if she was thinking the same thing he was. His gaze shifted over to his prince from time to time, and each glimpse he had of Vegeta further convinced him that Bulma didn't belong with Yamcha because someone else did. He was by no means a matchmaker, but in this case, the perfect pairing was obvious. Vegeta was displaying more than the ordinary protectiveness and possessiveness of a pack mate. How had it taken him so long to see it?

Bulma had finished work early that afternoon so she would have time to take a bath and curl her hair before her date with Yamcha. Now she sat in front of her vanity applying her makeup, only wearing her underclothes as she still hadn't decided what to wear. Yamcha hadn't told her where he planned on taking her, so she didn't know if she should lean more formal or fun. In the end, she decided to take the safe road and pick something that could be both. After finishing her makeup, she got up and went to her closet to find a suitable outfit for the night.

When she emerged from her closet, she was wearing a deep purple dress. It was one of her favorites, with a low scoop neck, long sleeves, empire waist, and knee length, it was perfect for all occasions. She pulled on a pair of black pumps and grabbed a black pearl necklace, earrings, and bracelet from her vanity on her way out of her bedroom. The doorbell had already rung, and she didn't want to keep Yamcha waiting, especially with Vegeta prowling around the compound before dinner.

Hurrying downstairs, Bulma found Yamcha standing in the hall waiting for her – with Vegeta. Was he the one who answered the door? She rushed over to her fiancé, carefully placing herself between him and the irate saiyan. "Sorry about the wait, I was just finishing getting dressed."

Yamcha didn't take his eyes off Vegeta as he answered, "It's ok, B. I was just having a nice chat with Vegeta."

Her eyes widened. "Oh really? About what?" She sneaked a glance over at the saiyan prince, not missing his furious scowl and his twitching tail.

Laughing nervously, Yamcha rubbed the back of his head with one hand while the other arm linked through Bulma's. "It's not nice dinner talk."

Her brows lowered as she glanced again at the saiyan, who was now wearing a self-satisfied smirk. "We're not at dinner, and now you have me curious."

"I was simply discussing the most effective ways to disembowel various alien species," Vegeta answered with a one-shoulder shrug. "I merely told him I was interested in learning how to properly rip out the entrails of a human male."

Just then, Nappa walked out of the kitchen munching on a raw potato. He stopped next to Vegeta and provided his unwanted input, saying, "Wouldn't it be about the same as a Jehzit?"

Vegeta seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I think you're right. They have about the same bone structure, muscle mass, and probably internal organs. So I suppose you would impale them directly under the sternum, curve your hand like so, and scoop their guts out like this," he said, demonstrating the hand motions in front of Yamcha's abdomen.

Bulma's face paled as she felt bile rising in her throat. "Vegeta," she said weakly, "That is probably the most disgusting thing I have ever heard."

Again he shrugged nonchalantly. "You wanted to know what we were talking about. Besides, I suppose if I'm not given any reason to—" he paused, giving Yamcha a pointed glare, "—I won't ever have to try it."

Yamcha yanked Bulma's arm as he took a few steps back toward the door. "Well, it's been nice talking with you, but I think we should be heading out. Don't worry, I'll have her back by nine. Bye!" He reached behind him and twisted the doorknob, then opened the door with his foot to back out, not wanting to turn his back on the saiyans. He didn't care that their expressions showed their amusement, he wanted to get as far away from them as fast as possible.

Once they were in the car, Bulma turned to Yamcha and sighed, laying her hand on top of his on the gearshift. "Yamcha, I'm so sorry about that. He was just teasing you. I'll admit his sense of humor can be rather… morbid… but he didn't mean any of it."

"Don't worry about it," he said, perhaps too bitingly. He knew she was trying to comfort him, but he was genuinely terrified of the saiyans, and hearing and seeing them demonstrate how to gut a human was more than he could take. He shuddered, remembering the cruel flash of amusement in Vegeta's eyes. He wasn't teasing. He was threatening. Yamcha swallowed hard and tried to turn his thoughts to more pleasant things, such as spending a romantic evening with Bulma. He smiled turned, smiling at her. "Now, what kind of food are you hungry for?"

…

Frieza stood on the ground, staring up at the magnificent creature towering over him with barely suppressed awe. He knew that there was an eternal dragon that would arise from the dragon balls, but he never imagined it would be so incredibly colossal – and intimidating. Most powerful being in the universe or not, Frieza was in shock for a few moments before he could even begin to process what the dragon had said to him.

He could be granted three wishes. The information his techs found about the dragon hadn't included that. Well, even better. He pushed aside his awe and smirked up at the dragon, folding his arms behind his back. He had come so far to get to this point, and now the moment was finally here when he would be granted anything he wanted, and what he wanted most of all was immortality so he could seize control of the galaxies controlled by his father and brother when they died – whether or not it would be at his hands he hadn't decided yet – and rule the universe for eternity.

Frieza stood in front of the eldest Namek, an obese blob of green flesh forever rooted in his throne, too old and weak to move. He had come to collect the last dragon ball, the one star ball, but he also sought the password another of the village elders had mentioned, mocking the space tyrant with his overconfident boasts of the Namekians' foresight in preventing evil men such as himself from ever being able to make a wish.

Before him sat the last Namekian, all the others having already been slaughtered by his men. Here sat the one who could tell him the password, the secret to raising the dragon to grant his wishes; unfortunately, he was also a stubborn old relic who believed virtue held some grand significance in the overall scheme of things. As such, he refused to tell Frieza what he wanted to know, instead choosing to – between weak coughs – berate the tyrant's morality, worth, and desires. Frieza wasn't interested in his babble. He already knew he was selfish, conceited, arrogant, merciless, and sadistic. He didn't need an old 'prophet' telling him so.

Losing patience, Frieza levitated off the floor to glare at the old Namekian at eye level. He pointed to the geezer's caretaker and bodyguard, lying dead on the floor, and growled, "You will tell me how to summon the dragon, you old windbag, or I will see to it that you meet the same fate as your young friend."

Guru either laughed or coughed for a moment before replying, "You will never raise the dragon, Frieza. You will never learn the password from me, and unfortunately for you, you have already murdered all my children."

Frieza was unimpressed by Guru's speech. What was the name he heard one of the Namekians say before he killed him? Oh yes. "Porunga?"

The old Namekian remained silent. Frieza sneered at him, considering whether to kill him or let him live to see his ascension to immortality. Eventually he decided on the latter and left the hideous creature, having snatched the dragon ball away from him faster than his old, half-blind eyes could see.

The tyrant returned to his ship and moved the dragon balls outside, setting them in a circle. He admired their ethereal glow as he raised his hands over them. "Eternal dragon, Porunga, arise!"

He waited a few minutes, but nothing happened. He frowned at the dragon balls. Why weren't they working? He was sure he found the password when the Namekian let it slip that the dragon's name was Porunga. What else was there to know? He lowered his hands and thought for another minute before cackling to himself. What else? He had to summon the dragon and make his wish in Namekian! It was too obvious. He raised his hand to his scouter and had it translate the words he wanted into Namekian before trying again. This time, the sky darkened with thick, black clouds, pierced only by bolts of lightning. The dragon rose from the dragon balls in a winding, curling, growing beam of brilliant light.

"Dragon," he said in carefully pronounced Namekian, "I wish for immortality!"

It was hard to tell, but the eternal dragon did not appear pleased with this request. Nevertheless, after a few moments his eyes glowed and his voiced boomed across the land, "Your wish has been granted. Name your next wish."

Frieza paused. What else did he want badly enough to use one of his wishes on it? Immediate rule over the entire known universe? Perhaps he wanted Vegeta to be brought to him, to witness his moment of glory before he was struck down. Better yet, he could wish for Vegeta's undying allegiance and servitude. No, that would never do. The monkey needed to be broken slowly, not by magic. His attention shot back to the dragon, who was growling impatiently. Frieza could have slapped himself. Had he known there would be three wishes instead of one, he would have thought about his other two wishes beforehand. He opened his mouth, ready to make another wish, when Porunga started fading from sight as if he were nothing but an apparition.

"What?" Frieza shouted, "What's happening?"

Porunga disappeared completely, then the dragon balls rose high in the air. Frieza watched them, baffled, as they turned to stone and crashed back down to the ground around him. He looked around at them all. He roared with frustration. How was he supposed to get his last two wishes now?

A/N: Well, I guess that answers all your questions about what'll happen with Frieza and the Namekian dragon balls. Yep. To answer other questions/address points brought up...Yamcha went to train with King Kai because he helped fight to defend Earth against the saiyans. If that wasn't enough, let's assume Kami knew Frieza would be coming because, well, he knows stuff and knew they'd need everyone to be as strong as possible, including Yamcha who could take the opportunity of being dead to train with King Kai. It makes sense, actually. And yeah, Bulma does tend to screw things up. It's kind of in her nature. Goku and Vegeta are definitely not likely to be on good terms with each other anytime soon (if ever)...they still don't like each other and I'm not sure if/when that'll change on either side. Anyway, thank you all for the reviews. I appreciate every one of them.

Beta'd by lilpumpkingirl

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