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.
Chapter Six
The summer sun was dipping into the ocean horizon, painting a vivid golden fire across the dark water surface and bathing the small Kame house and its island in warm light. The shadows of two figures shifted across the sand as they moved too fast for most mortal eyes to see – except the four-year-old, she could always see them.
"Go daddy, go! Get Unca' Yammy!" Marron cheered curled up on the beach chair. She started to yawn. They'd been at it for a couple hours. Her mommy and the others were still out doing the monthly grocery shopping, and Turtle was already napping by the edge of the tide.
Yamcha swung a kick to Krillin's chest, but Krillin deftly dodged it as if he could read the taller mans' mind. Yamcha had missed sparring with Krillin. To be frank, the bald guy was probably the strongest human on the plant, and his technique was flawless. It was like fighting with a master craftsman, even Goku didn't come close to the grace and perfection of Krillin's movements. Not an ounce of energy was wasted.
They took simultaneous jabs at each other and then flipped back, both landing softly into the sand.
"Hey, man. Hold up," Said Krillin, looking over at his daughter, who'd started to doze off. He scooped her up into his arms, "Okay, sweetpea, looks like it's time for your nap. I'll be right back." He stepped into the Kame house to tuck Marron in on the couch, and then came back out with two beers and threw one over to Yamcha.
"So what did bring ya over man. No offense, but you're not really one for training much," Krillin said as they both settled down in the beach chairs.
"I needed to get out some, uh, frustrations out." He'd felt riled up after the outing with Roma, Princess of ape-people. Part of it was guilt at himself, part of it was annoyance with Roma's saiyan attitude, the last part – he didn't want to admit to himself, and yet the memory of Roma taking off her shirt in the store and then the unwarranted and heated dreams for the last couple nights. Gah, damn it, Yamcha said to himself, knock it off mind! He rubbed his temples as if to rub out all thought of the lithe, supple saiyan woman.
"Frustrated, huh?" said Krillin, observing his friend, "That model Fifi dump ya?"
"Krillin, I dumped her like a year ago. All she would talk about was finally being able to afford school and get her PHD in psychology, and she kept diagnosing me with shit!"
"Hehe, right, right, so what's eating ya?"
"Vegeta's sister," Yamcha mumbled and took a long swig from his beer.
The shorter man's face paled. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard you correctly."
"I said VEGETA'S GOD DAMN SISTER!" Yamcha shouted.
Krillin stared at him as if he'd grown two heads or started to do a Ginyu Force dance, "Ummm, did I miss something?"
Yamcha sighed, Kame house was always the last to know things. After being filled in with the most recent events, Krillin started laughing.
"Oh my god, Bulma, like totally made you Roma's servant!"
Yamcha crossed his arms and scowled, "It's not funny. And it wasn't fun either," although thinking back it wasn't that bad. It's not like she blew up the store or anything. And she'd been actually curious about Earth rather than holed-up inside Capsule Corp like Vegeta.
Indeed, Yamcha had spotted her and Trunks out at the West City park the other day; Trunks was showing his aunt around the pirate-ship shaped playground, and Roma seemed all too eager to humor the young boy. She'd even attempted a fake pirate accent as per her nephew's instructions; although it sounded more like a constipated-Nappa accent.
Yamcha shook his head, rattling all his stupid thoughts around.
Krillin leaned back in his chair and finished off his drink. "So, another saiyan, huh. What's she like?"
Yamcha automatically imagined her wearing tight spandex workout clothes and turned away blushing, "Like a pain in the royal butt," he snapped. Man, he needed to get his head checked. It was true he'd been having a dry season for awhile, but to fixate on her! He really must be desperate.
Marron rubbed her eyes and came padding out onto the sand barefoot. Yamcha, thankful for the distraction from the conversation, patted her on the head, "So, who won today squirt?"
"Daddy did! Daddy always wins!" She shouted jumping into her father's arms.
Krillin gave her a loving smile, "Hehe, can't argue with her this time, can I?"
XXXXXXX
She'd been on the planet for a couple weeks and had slowly been learning the rules – no flight, ki-balls, or overt displays of superhuman strength in public; no discussions of aliens with the general population; no talking to television screens, or cars, or those strange blue boxes at the street corners; no instigating conversation with her brother; no touching her nephew's action figures; and absolutely NO training on Saturday and Sunday.
The last was Bulma's rule, and the Empress of Capsule Corp, as Roma had rightly deemed her, had cut the power to the GR to make sure her rule was obeyed. Roma was impressed by the gumption, and that Vegeta didn't even try to argue.
In fact, Bulma had even conned the Prince into joining her at a convention in Satan City (something about leaving "Don't Stop the Music" on loop in the gravity room). And Trunks had been granted permission to spend the weekend with the peasant saiyans in the bumblefreakin' hills.
This left Roma bored, even more so than when out in space where there were people of dubious intentions to slaughter, or beasts to hunt, or even the space market to peruse. She even enjoyed bothering a few of her acquaintances on occasion, for as long as they would put up with her. And there had always been those rumors to pursue; after all, if there had been two…no, she thought, it had been a waste of time.
She considered her options and smirked, "Well, I do have a debt to repay."
XXXXXXX
Yamcha was in the middle of sitting down in the living room to eat his late breakfast and marathon his favorite Sci-Fi series USS Stargazer, when he sensed a dark ki coming towards his penthouse [1]. By the time he got up, Roma was already on the balcony. He slammed the sliding door open.
"I know Bulma is at that damn convention today. No! I can't show you around," he shouted.
The blue-haired devil had earlier tried asking if he was available this weekend, as if the saiyan princess needed a babysitter, or perhaps, simply a jester for entertainment. In general, Bulma had a bad habit of using Yamcha as a last-minute lapdog (often enough a courier or a babysitter for Trunks), and he was getting sick of it.
Roma ignored his outburst and held out a bottle of black label scotch. "Here. It's for showing me your planet."
Yamcha blinked and accepted the bottle. "Oh, uh, thanks." Damn it, he'd been rude and she'd been nice. Great, you really are a dick now, he thought to himself. He reluctantly moved aside and stuttered, "Um, uh, won't…you…come in?"
Roma bowed and stepped inside. "This is where you reside? It's smaller than Capsule Corp. I like it."
"Yeah. It's called an apartment," he said making small talk, but secretly watching the tip of her tail twitch just above her shapely bottom.
Although Goku had walked around all those years with his tail swaying about haphazardly, he'd noticed Roma constantly kept hers tightly around her waist. Nappa and Vegeta had done the same, which made sense, Yamcha thought, given how much of a weakness it was.
Roma stepped around inspecting the shelves, the furniture, the baseball bats in the corner. She looked at the picture frames hanging on the wall. She took one down and stared at it, recognizing it from the Brief's living room.
"Uh, that's from a long time ago…" Yamcha said, thinking about all the ups and downs of his life that had led him here, standing beside the royalty of a strong and dead alien race.
"My brother's mate did mention getting caught in weird adventures, with that low-class saiyan, Goka?"
"Goku, yeah," Yamcha said, "He's not in this picture. Or any of these actually. He tends to wander off…a lot."
"She explained you used to be a bandit. Something about living in a dessert stealing from people," Roma said, "but now you hit small balls into the air and get paid for it. Rather clever use of your strength." She set the picture back on the wall and said nonchalantly, "I like your hair in this picture."
Yamcha's gears were screeching to a terrifying halt in his head. Was she complimenting him? And had Bulma spontaneously shared information about his past or had Roma herself inquired. Yamcha started turning red in the face and weak in the knees; the old fear of women fluttered at the edge of his conscious mind.
"Um, well, uh, thank you for the, the scotch," Yamcha stuttered, taking her by the arm suddenly and leading her to the exit, "Um, if you could just leave out the front door, that, uh, be great. Have a nice day."
Yamcha hurriedly sat down on his couch to finish his breakfast. He waited to hear the door close, but instead she strutted back over and plopped herself down beside him.
"What is this preposterous show?" asked Roma (Trunks having previously explained to her several forms of visual entertainment on Earth.) "Psssst, ships don't make noise in space. How ridiculous! It's a vacuum," she commented, watching the series opening.
"It's just for fun," said Yamcha, trying to get a hold of himself, shoving the old phobia down into the depths of the past.
They watched a few more episodes, mostly because Yamcha was at a loss of what to do with her. Throwing her out the apartment was definitely an option, but then there'd be Vegeta to deal with down the road. Roma continued to judge the show, putting in her two-cents about how space travel and interplanetary relationships actually worked. The nostalgia Yamcha had associated with the series started to wear off.
The credits for episode five scrolled up the screen. "Yamcha?"
He perked up. It was the first time she'd said his name, "Yeah?"
"You can sense power levels as well, without this." She pointed to her scouter. Bulma had tried to persuade her not wear it outside of Capsule Corp, but realized it was like asking someone to leave their cell phone at home.
"I can. All the fighters I know can. Uh, Vegeta hasn't taught you?"
Roma frowned, a mix of frustration and disappointment. Vegeta had taught himself, and probably expected her to simply catch on. He'd been pummeling her into pulp these last couple weeks (not that she minded), trying to merely get her strength up, and once outside of training, she became just another piece of furniture. There was no requesting lessons from the saiyan Prince. And Trunks, seemingly born with the ability to sense ki, couldn't quite explain it well enough to be of any help.
She glared at Yamcha, or at least he thought she was glaring; her naturally angled eyebrows always made her seem a bit angry. "Teach me," she demanded, and then after a pause said, "please."
Yamcha smiled awkwardly at the politeness. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to hearing it from a bona-fide saiyan. Even Goku, Earth-raised, lacked a lot of manners. Having regained enough of his senses to function, he resigned himself to the task of giving the saiyan a lesson. Afterall, she's said please.
They walked across town to West City Park and settled down on the grass under the shade of a large oak tree. Roma reluctantly took off the scouter and set it down on the ground.
"This technique is not about strength, it is about control," said Yamcha, focusing his nervous energy towards teaching, "You're stretching out your own aura basically to sense the life force of the world around you. Like radar."
It took several demonstrations for Roma to even sense what Yamcha was doing, so different was it from saiyan ki-techniques. In fact, the pony-tailed man had to backtrack for an hour and instruct Roma in the practice of mediation (a foreign idea to her) so that she could clear and open her mind to the subtle energy of the world around her.
A few hours later, the late afternoon shadows stretched long across the park. Roma sat with her eyes tightly shut, breathing in and out, trying to wipe away all her worries and doubt, to make her brain an empty void.
Meanwhile, Yamcha playfully controlled a harmless ki-ball, floating it around aimlessly. Roma pointed out a finger, "It's over there."
"Pretty good," said Yamcha. He let it dissipate. "That's six out of six. At least for this distance, and they weren't very strong either." He smiled, feeling proud of her progress. All the anxiety and tension he'd experienced earlier had slowly been replaced by an oddly comfortable sensation like with a favorite pair of jeans. Spending time with Roma hadn't been terrible (or teasingly torturing), and now that the lesson was over, he felt reluctant to part ways.
"Well, Rome wasn't built in a day. We'll just have to practice some more," he said, knowingly offering her future lessons, and seriously hoping he wouldn't regret it.
"Ug, practice," Roma growled, closing her eyes one more time as if she could simply will herself to mastery, but her senses felt clouded. Then, like a dim glow in the distant fog of her mind, an extremely strong ki flew high above them. It felt familiar, it felt – saiyan!
Roma eyes snapped open. She shoved her scouter back on her face, seeing the indicator arrow blinking red. And she bolted into the clouds.
XXXXXXXX
Gohan raced across the sky, smiling like an idiot. His date with Videl had gone fantastic – he'd gotten to second base! He sped up and did curly cues in the air, allowing his energy level to spike with his teenage excitement.
A figure suddenly hovered in front of him, and he slammed his ki to a halt. Rarely had anyone popped up at this high of an altitude on his way home. He started at the raven-haired woman dumbfounded, but then noticed the twitching brown "belt."
"Uh, you must be Roma," Gohan said, offering a handshake, "Bulma told me about you. Welcome to Earth."
Roma put her hands on her hips and started to float a circle around him. "Who are you? You are saiyan, yes?"
"My name is Gohan, and yeah, I'm half-saiyan," he explained, "My father is Goku. My dad's been curious to meet you," he answered, watching her a bit apprehensively. As much as Bulma assured him she could be trusted, Gohan couldn't help but think back to his father's own evil sibling and worry about Roma's intentions.
"Goku, the low-level saiyan, I've heard of him," she said, "And Trunks has told me of you and Goten as well. He referred to you as a 'dweeb,' though I am unsure the meaning of that title."
Gohan's eyebrow twitched; that lavender-haired punk was going to get it. "Please just call me Gohan," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to match her stare with his own.
"Gohan, I'm curious, Goku is not a saiyan name," she said.
"His saiyan name was Kakarot, but he forgot it after hitting his head on a rock as a baby," he explained, surprised Vegeta hadn't told her any of this.
Roma's eyes widened, "Ka-karot!" She started to mutter to herself, "…it couldn't be, just coincidence, it wasn't an uncommon saiyan name…" She pointed a finger in Gohan's chest, "You will take me to him!"
Gohan wasn't in the mood for being ordered; he just wanted a relaxing, quiet flight home, "I don't think-"
Yamcha popped up out of the cloud, "Jeeze, give me a warning next time."
"We're going to see this Goku," Roma stated.
Gohan stared befuddled at the older man's presence. If Yamcha had willingly been spending time with Roma, she couldn't be all bad, right? Surely, if Roma could put up with Yamcha, she couldn't be that bad, right?
"Mt. Paozu, today? Well, alright," Yamcha said. He did want to keep hanging out with her; it was certainly better than wallowing in misery watching bad TV. And visiting his old friend Goku never failed to be entertaining. But to fly all the way to the country…"I guess as long as ChiChi gives me some dinner. Hey Gohan."
"Hi, Yamcha?" the young half-saiyan halfheartedly waved, confused how his flight home had turned into mid-cloud bus stop. He hung his head and only hoped his mother wouldn't be too irate at a couple more mouths to feed.
[1] Yamcha has become a rather famous professional baseball player, so of course he has money now.