"I can't be," Bulma said.
Dr Chaques unwound the stethoscope from his neck and began to pack his medical bag.
He was one of the best in West City and he had been treating her family for years, ever since Bulma was born. That, plus a fee for inconvenience were the reasons why he had agreed to make a house call. The alternative would have meant Bulma driving herself and risking another fainting spell, or asking Vegeta for a lift (which he would no doubt refuse).
"You're definitely pregnant, Bulma," he said. "Around twelve weeks, I'd say. You really haven't had any nausea, dizziness, before?"
"Hmm...well, maybe once or twice." Bulma shrugged. "Just thought it was a bad lunch."
Dr Chaques laughed. "It happens to all of us."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't to me," she said. "What's the next step?"
"That's up to you," the doctor said, and patted the bed. "Rest until the dizziness passes, maybe a few days. After that give me a call and we can make another appointment."
Bulma kept the smile on her face until he left, then sank back onto her pillows.
Pregnant. And she knew exactly who the father was.
"I have to tell him," she said out loud. How he would react was anyone's guess.
Bulma groaned. And there was also Chiyo to think about. Chi-Chi wasn't due to pick her up for another two days. Dad was out of town at a conference and Mom was miles away-mentally if not physically. So, who else could babysit a three year old?
Master Muten? Absolutely not, Bulma thought, the kid would come home drinking beer and doing aerobics.
Yamcha? Who knows what he got up to these days-or who he got up to it with.
Tenshinhan and Chaozu? Who even knew where they were?
That left only one option. Bulma found herself grimacing, but oddly satisfied.
He got me into this, she thought. He can get me out.
"No!"
"It's for two days, Vegeta."
Bulma sat up in bed, fighting the urge to dry heave as her head swam. She glared at Vegeta's slightly wobbling frame in her peripheral vision.
Arms folded, scowl in place as usual. The scowl deepened when he caught sight of Chiyo, who was fiddling with the blinds in Bulma's room.
"I will not cease my training to take care of Kakarrot's brat."
"Then let her watch or something," Bulma said, and pressed her temples. "It's not like you can go into the gravity machine. Not until it's fixed, anyway."
Vegeta's brow furrowed even deeper, so his dark eyes nearly disappeared under his eyebrows. He gave a grunt of annoyance.
"Look, it's not that hard," Bulma said. "Make her some food when she tells you she's hungry, give her something to do so she won't get bored, and take her to the bathroom every hour or so."
"Take her to the-? Oh, for f-"
"Come on, Vegeta." Bulma hated pleading with this stubborn, infuriating man, but she had neither the patience or the focus for a fight. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
Vegeta grunted again, but his brow began to smooth out.
"Besides..." Bulma said, and a grin spread across her face. "You know who her mom is? Goku's wife. Ask Goku and he'll tell you she's not someone you want to cross."
"Feh!" Vegeta said, though he stole a glance at the window, where Chiyo was sitting (quietly, for once). "A Saiyan prince yields to no-one."
"You wanna test that theory?"
Vegeta gave her a sour look, scowled even deeper, and said, "Fine."
"Thanks, Vegeta." Bulma put a tentative hand on his arm, though wasn't surprised when he pulled away.
"Two days," he said, folding his arms. "After that, no more."
"Mister? Mister?"
Vegeta woke slowly to a high pitched child's voice in his ear and a gentle poking on his shoulder. Grumbling, he swatted at the air and heard an 'oof!' as the culprit hit the floor with a thud.
Ten seconds of peace, then…
Poke.
"Mister? I'm hungry. Mister?"
Vegeta peeled his face off his pillow to be met with two wide black eyes inches from his nose.
"Mister," said the disruptor of the peace. "I'm hungry."
"Out," Vegeta said.
The whelp looked confused.
"OUT!"
Chiyo scowled. "Hungry."
"Vegeta!" came a voice from down the hall. "Feed her!"
"With what?!"
"I don't know! Whatever's in the fridge! You're a grown man, figure it out!"
Would he have no peace?
The sound of shattering glass brought Vegeta back to his senses once again; he hadn't even realised he'd fallen back asleep.
"VEGETA!"
"Hold your horses, woman!" he shouted and threw back the covers. Another bang reached his ears. It was coming from the kitchen, where-
Vegeta shot upright. The cursed brat.
He pulled on yesterday's clothes so quickly he nearly tore them, all the while seething. Damn the whelp! Did she not have any discipline? Could she not even fend for herself like other Saiyan children?
Then again, she was a half-breed. Who knew what human genetics did for a Saiyan's survival instinct?
The scene that greeted him when he came into the kitchen was like something out of a nightmare, and for a moment he stood and stared-for once in his life speechless.
Milk covered every inch of the tiled floor and squished under his boots. A box of dry cereal overturned, spilling its contents all over the benchtop and floor, sticking to the white rivulets running down the cupboards and soaking into the spilled liquid. A cracked glass tumbler sitting nearby half full of what looked like juice, which made its way into the puddle in a steady stream.
In the middle of it all stood Chiyo, staring blankly at the mess. As Vegeta rose in front of her-eyes bleary, hair standing in every direction, face red-she stared back at him.
"YOU," Vegeta said. No other words seemed able to force their way out of his throat.
For a long, long moment there was a deafening silence. Then he lunged.
Chiyo let loose an ear-splitting squeal and jumped. She landed on his head-Vegeta roared-and slid down his back, almost knocking him into the mess.
What followed was a five minute chase through the house as chaos ensued-Chiyo screaming, Vegeta cursing, thuds and bangs and squished milk footprints.
He finally caught up to her in one of the hallways and seized her arm, holding her with an iron grip while she struggled.
For once in his life he had to force himself to calm down. What in hell possessed him to agree to mind this demon of a child completely escaped him, and for a moment he seriously contemplated telling Bulma to deal with it herself.
"Stop struggling," he growled as Chiyo pried at his hands. "You'll just waste your energy."
Chiyo kicked him in the thigh; it hurt, and Vegeta suddenly had an idea.
He'd been an excitable child himself long ago, always fighting, always causing chaos (though on Planet Vegeta it had of course been encouraged). Later he realised the energy he expended doing so left him unable to cause trouble for his parents-and later for Freeza. If he could put this brat to work, exhaust her enough, maybe he would finally have some peace.
Vegeta picked up the child by the back of her shirt, ignoring her indignant yell, and headed back to the kitchen.
The fridge, blessedly, was full of food. He pulled a bowl of some unidentifiable dish, deposited Chiyo onto a clean part of the bench and put the bowl in front of her.
"Eat," he said.
For once she obeyed, and that left Vegeta time to find food of his own. It was cold, but he ate it anyway. Bulma was the one who knew how to work the machines in the kitchen, but one cold meal would not kill him.
When Chiyo's bowl was empty he took her into the yard.
Now what? He thought. The gravity machine was broken; even if it wasn't he couldn't keep an eye on the child and train to his full strength. If he let her out of his sight there was no telling what she might do.
Suddenly, brilliantly, the solution came to him.
"Stay here!" he told the whelp. "Move from this spot and you'll wish you had never been born!"
When Vegeta had left Freeza's 'employ' he'd taken what was left of the Cultivars; partly out of spite and partly because they'd proven their usefulness against Earthlings before.
He'd kept them locked away-who knew what the meddling Bulma would do if she found them-or on his person at all times, and they were one of the few possessions he'd brought with him to Earth. One or two would be more than enough to keep the whelp occupied while he trained.
Chiyo hadn't moved when Vegeta returned, and only stared when he made a hole in the soil and planted a seed.
"Tell me Kakarrot has begun to train you, whelp."
"Huh?"
"Your father," Vegeta said, and patted down the fresh soil. "Did he teach you to fight, or is he too soft?"
Chiyo began to reply, but stopped when the soil began to shift. She took a few steps back, eyes wide.
The Cultivar burst from the ground with a shriek. To her credit she didn't cry or run screaming.
"Fight her," Vegeta instructed it. "No killing or serious injury." He paused, then added, "No acid, either."
"What?" Chiyo said, but the Cultivar attacked. She dodged its punch with a surprised yell, and Vegeta stepped away.
Back to training.
A/N: The Saibamen are called 'Cultivars' in the Viz manga translation, which is what I use when writing Dragon Ball. Please don't message me saying I used the 'wrong' word and trying to correct me; I've been writing, watching and reading Dragon Ball for 15+ years. Thanks!