Summary: Vegeta's little sister, thought dead by the Saiyan Prince, appears on Earth shortly after the Buu Saga. Since the Saiyans are named after vegetables, Roma's name is from romaine lettuce.
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ. I am a poor educator—hear that students, I'm still writing fanfiction!
IMPORTANT NOTICE: I haven't done any fanfiction in about three years. Please let me know of any inconsistencies in this story as I continue it. I apologize if the writing style may have changed a bit. I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit slow; I promise things will get more interesting in the next one!
Chapter Five
A dusty, ruby red valley, hot with the mid-morning sun. She was hunting a razor-beast, planning on capturing a pup alive to raise and train as her own. She slipped behind scattered boulders, slinking from shadow to shadow. A small herd came into view. She smiled to herself and a small sound of excitement escaped her lips. The elder razor-beasts stood to attention, forming a small circle around the young and tusk-less pups. Roma moved back out of view, but the large male spotted the scent of her and grunted a short warning before charging forwards-
Wham! Roma growled and opened her eyes. Trunks sat on her chest beaming with a silly grin.
"Wake up! Wake up!" He chanted, jumping on the bed. "Today's our first training day together! I can show ya all my cool moves! I have this one I call tumble-hell; I've only ever used it on Goten before. And Goten was such a baby about it, said I cheated. As if. Maybe I can surprise my dad and punch him again, and then we can all go to the park—there's this really cool playground there with this thing in the shape of a pirate ship—"
Roma covered her ears. "Shut up, and I will rise out of bed."
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Roma and Trunks arrived punctually to the Gravity Room. Vegeta opened the door, already red and sweaty from a morning warm up. He grunted a greeting and allowed them in. As Roma crossed the threshold, she stared down at the cracked tiles and felt her muscles tense up, remembering the weight of her body and past colliding into the floor.
Vegeta pressed a button on the control panel. Roma suddenly felt herself growing heavier and heavier, faster and faster. She flared up an aura of energy; her legs buckled and she collapsed onto her knees. Vegeta pressed another button and the gravity lessened until Roma was standing up with extreme exertion and concentration.
"50gs?" Trunks whined. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
Vegeta went into his usual kata. Roma grimaced under the pressure but followed suit. Vegeta rolled his eyes, realizing the last formal training she would have had was nearly 30 years ago.
"Woman, your left arm is too high," he instructed. "Now, you've placed it too low."
Roma growled. "Just come at—" She hit the back wall before she could remember him punching her. Landing on her hands and knees, she looked up at the glowering Prince. A mix of frustration, nostalgia, and unconditional pride boiled inside her. Suddenly, she was a child again under the training of her Elite brother.
"I will give the orders." Vegeta stated strongly, "A thousand pushups, NOW!"
Roma tried to hide a budding smile as she willingly followed orders. How she had missed this, the militant commands towards improvement - to gaining strength, stamina, strategy. Knowledge of the super saiyan level motivated her, but the sheer joy of hearing her brother's scolding spurred her on.
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Roma lay on the tiled floor, panting desperately for breath. All her limbs ached to the bone, even lifting her chest to inhale took concentrated effort. Six hours of training wasn't unusual, but the intensity of it!
Vegeta and Trunks had long ago raised the gravity level and left her in the dust. Still, she felt extremely satisfied with herself and relished in the pain. Pain to saiyans meant only progress, going beyond current boundaries; it was a sensation that brought saiyans great pleasure (as well as great discomfort). Roma focused in on it, stoking it like a fire.
Meanwhile, Trunks, a bundle of unending energy, darted about the room avoiding ki-blasts left and right. The young saiyan tried to do what Roma could only assume was "tumble-hell" but miscalculated his aim and knocked himself head first into the wall. She started to chortle but it burned her ribs.
"That was sloppy," his father said. "I expect better."
Trunks sat on the floor, rubbing a bump on his head. "Yes dad," he moaned.
Vegeta walked over to the control console and deactivated the gravity. Finally, Roma was able to try and sit up.
Vegeta scowled and threw a towel down on her. "Tomorrow morning. Same time."
"Yes, sir," she said, bowing her head.
Trunks followed his father out into the hall and tugged his arm. "Dad?"
"Yes, son."
Trunks glanced back towards the GR. "How strong is Aunt Roma?"
Vegeta crossed his arms. "Comparatively, not very."
"She is stronger than the human fighters, right?"
"Stronger, yes, and she has potential. However, her technique is – "
"Terrible." Trunks winced.
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After a long, hot shower, Roma dressed and followed the alluring scents to the dining room. She felt half-starved after the mornings exertions and was beside herself to find a table piled high with delicious entrees. Her nephew and brother were already chowing down on a colossal, roasted pig.
Roma took a seat without speaking and started in on the turkey legs, strips of meaty raw fish, and cheese covered beef. Bunny then placed a gigantic multicolored bowl of fruit salad on the table mumbling something about "…ya gotta eat healthy!" Roma instinctively took the serving spoon and began to eat from it in large dripping mouthfuls
Vegeta cringed disgusted, "What the hell are you doing?"
Roma swallowed and blinked. She licked the sweet juice from around her mouth and realized how odd she must've seen.
"Wow, Aunt Roma, you must really like fruit. I thought saiyans like meat and stuff."
Roma sighed, "I just got used to it. There are far too many vegetarian planets out there."
"Vegetarian huh?" said Trunks, "Does that mean they eat Vegetas." His father gave him a death glare. "Alright, alright negative twenty points. Bad joke. Jeeze."
"Pitiful, surviving on such fodder. No better than starving," Vegeta stared at her judgingly, and yet, Roma felt a curiosity rolling behind his eyes. She was his sister after all; surely, he'd be interested in how she'd been surviving all these decades.
"Well, I have starved before, so I beg to differ," she mentioned offhandedly. She saw a lightning fast wince in his eyes - pity, sympathy?
Her nephew, as if he could sense his father's faux indifference, started to ask a torrent of questions, however hit and miss they may have been: "In space, did you ever see a guy with like twelve tentacles or sixteen eyes? Are trees like still green out there or are they purple and stuff? Do the trees talk? Do you have toilet paper in space? Do you still have pets in space? Do alien kids still have to do school work?" Trunks paused having run out of breath.
"Ummmm," Roma didn't want to leave her precocious nephew hanging, "No, yes (or was it twenty eyes), green trees, purple trees, iridescent shiny trees, none of them talked (though Targins are technically descended from a tree-like ancestor), some planets have toilet paper, many people have pets, many planets have mandatory schooling or children are tutored by their family unit."
Trunks seemed taken aback by the quick answers (an adult that answers his questions!). "Cool, uh. So, what do you do for money?"
"Son, I told you about the credit system in the icejin controlled sectors," the Prince scolded as he began to stuff his face again, acting as if nothing but food concerned him.
"Oh right, Aunt Roma, how'd ya get credits. Weren't ya like an outlaw?"
"I wasn't dumb enough to stay in icejin space," She looked pointedly at her brother, almost daring him to make some comments as she took another sweet mouthful of fruit, "Although some outer planets do accept credits. Others are more of a barter. I punch people; they feed me."
"So you beat people up for money. I guess you are evil," said Trunks.
After lunch, Bunny came in with a few desserts, "Now, I don't want to spoil y'all, but Trunks really wanted ya to try some things!"
Vegeta had already stepped out, presumably back to the GR. Roma felt both relieved and disappointed; although it had barely been two days, she had still been hoping for some conversation. Not that Vegeta had ever been much for words; even as a child he spoke more with his fist then his lips. And she understood that he may not have anything to say. What do you say to someone you can't quite remember? To someone you may not want to remember? Roma bit her lip at the thought. She would have to accept training as his way of communicating.
Thank goodness for the purple-haired brat or she'd be walking on eggshells more than she already was. Saiyan children! To think of such a concept, to see one again with her own eyes! She looked down at her nephew and gave an honest smile.
Trunks grinned back, "Ya ready for some dessert? Do they have dessert in space?" Trunks didn't wait for her to answer and began to describe the dishes – chocolate mousse, chocolate cake, vanilla ice cream, mint cookies, cinnamon pecan pie…
They dug in, and Roma was beside herself with all the delicious delicacies this backwards planet was capable of. She wondered if maybe her brother stayed here just for the food.
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Roma agreed to assist her nephew with his school work, but quickly realized she was of little use. The boy was a curious mix of saiyan strength and human genius. Definitely, he was his mother's, as well as his father's, son.
Trunks lay on the carpet with his calculus text- and notebook spread out before him. He chewed on his pencil and allowed himself to be distracted by his alien aunt perusing the odds and ends of the living room (well, the main living room).
Roma spoke a couple words to the black flat screen as if she expected it to respond; she picked up a video game controller and mashed on the buttons to little effect; she unintentionally flipped the sound system on to a blasting metal song and promptly flipped it off; then she found a shelf full of old pictures.
She took one down and looked at it carefully: a grumpy pig, a floating cat, a creepy looking old guy wearing a turtle shell, a bald guy with a huge grin, a young Bulma and Yamcha with arms around each other …
"That's from mom's adventures, when she was a teenager," said Trunks.
Arms around each other? "Tell me about the scar-faced man," she demanded.
"Uncle Yamcha? He's okay I guess. I think mom and him dated or something like millions of years ago. Dad used to joke about setting him on fire." But he hadn't set him on fire, and that spoke volumes to Roma.
Roma continued to stare at the image. Unlike the slicked back ponytail he'd sported the previous day, scar-face as a young man had, had even longer hair, untamed, almost saiyan-like. She thought back to his surprising strength and boldness and felt her tail twitch. She shoved the picture back on the shelf.
"I think I'm forgetting something…" Trunks tapped his forehead with his pencil eraser, "Oh right, mom wanted to see ya later when she gets back from the lab."
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Roma stepped out onto the balcony. It was barely evening, but already the sky had faded into a dark blue. Bulma stood at the railing, bundled up in a red sweater, staring out as the sky through a metal cylinder. Roma recognized it as a hilariously rudimentary telescope.
Roma cleared her throat.
Bulma turned around and beamed, "Yes, yes, come here. I have something I want to show you."
Roma stepped forward to peer through the eyepiece, wary of what this Empress of Capsule Corp was so eager about. Part of her saiyan survival instinct whirled about and considered this some elaborate trap to get her guard down. She shrugged the silly sensation away; she needed to adjust to trusting so many people.
In the crosshairs, circled by dozens of white glittering specks, was a distinctively reddish star. Princess Roma shot up to attention and gaped, "That's, that's…." The glowing red sun of her childhood, long ago rising hot on the horizon of her dusty home world, now a mere speck in an endless sky.
"Yes," said Bulma, "It took me awhile to find it. But I am pretty amazing."
Bulma offered a cup of hot, dark liquid to her sister-in-law. Roma wrapped her hands around the warm mug and took a tentative sip. Delightfully bitter.
"Thank you," Roma whispered.
Bulma smiled at the politeness and wasn't sure she would ever get used to it; she also hoped it might wear off on her husband. The blue-haired genius mused how Vegeta and his sister could be so alike and so different, separated by a chasm of time and memory she feared they could never bridge. Bulma could only imagine what the saiyan princess was going through.
She patted Roma on the arm and said, "This is your home, now. I hope we can be your family."
Roma found herself speechless for a few seconds, soaking in the words. Family. Home. No more hiding, no more jumping from system to system, no coded messages and sudden scrambling, no more gawks at her presence. It all seemed so foreign, and it was - a different kind of family on a different kind of planet.
Roma smirked, "I have something for you. I won't be needing my ship anymore," said Roma, pressing a button on the side of her scouter.
"Your ship?" A dark circle zoomed over Capsule Corp, made a u-turn, and then gracefully lowered itself onto the balcony, landing on the smooth concrete with a light tap.
"I thought you and your father would like the things I have. Gadgets from many planets," said Roma, pulling out a few small contraptions and handing them to Bulma, who accepted them with a deviously gleeful smile.
"Oh goodness, this'll definitely give us an edge on the market. They won't know what hit 'em!" she said. She paused and looked pointedly at the saiyan, "But, why?"
"For my keep. I always pay my debts."