Pan was in a state of enraged fury, and this was even more enhanced than usual because of the identity of the provocateurs and not only because she hadn't eaten her lunch yet. Somebody was going to pay a heavy price for their pranks, and the only question was when. When would she get the chance to imprint her fists on their faces
The day had started on a good note; she had woken up at seven, completed her early morning rituals, and thrown on her favorite sparring outfit consisting of an indigo gi with a light purple obi on the back with the kanji Ma symbol and her iconic orange bandana. She had then strode next door to her grandparents' house, her stomach already anticipating the grand breakfast that her grandma would have cooked for her. As expected, her grandma Chi-Chi had prepared a scrumptious feast, fit for a king, although it was the usual fare for her family, or at least her since no one else had been at the table. Her grandpa had been training off-world with that whiz guy, while her parents had already informed her the previous day about the conference they had over the weekend, and she knew they would only be back late Sunday. As for the final member, she didn't sense her uncle's ki at all in the house or the vicinity. She simply shrugged it off as everyone had different routines and thought nothing of it. Considering the fact that she didn't have to go to one of her dad's boring symposiums on bugs, she counted herself lucky and wanted to quickly spend all her leisure time left to her antics. She had scarfed her breakfast down and kissed her grandma goodbye before taking off for her usual Saturday morning training session with Piccolo.
Maturing into a mellow and serene lady of twenty years didn't stop Pan from taking her training seriously; she was unlike the other Saiyan-earthling hybrids, who all seemed bent upon avoiding training or showing any trace of their Saiyan genes. She sometimes now understood what Vegeta meant when he got into one of his pompous rants on earthlings, to have all that power and waste the potential was foolishness.
She had a heavier schedule, cramming it along with college and the intense internship requirements which had been a dealbreaker with her father, but sparring was something she could not live without. She was different from her father, and had a battle-hungry mindset, as her grandpa called it and her grandpa Goku definitely played a role in her determination to keep training. However, this mindset did set her at odds with the rest of her peace-loving family and friends, who all thought she was adopting more of her Saiyan heritage and the paranoid lust for battle that came with it. Only her grandpa, Mr. Piccolo, and Vegeta were appreciative of her tendency to train, and considering they were all old hands at battle and war, she was inclined to think she was moving in the right direction.
Piccolo had stepped up his training regime and kept blathering about bringing out her hidden potential, which would only arise to a need. To be honest, the workouts were not that intense now that she was a super saiyan, but that did not stop her mentor from slowing down her training; he kept reiterating the need for constant vigilance, especially since her home planet was in a constant state of peril with sinister threats popping up even during seemingly peaceful times. Well, he kept her quick on her feet and provided interesting battle modes to concentrate on. She had been tampering with one of her new moves, and though it failed, he had instructed her on her errors and made her think about the flaws of her battle style. All in all, it was a good workout
She had then gone back home to Mt. Paozu ready for a quick bath and then some food. It was the perfect time to relax, let loose with some snacks, and watch some funny movies, this was her summer break, and her scholastic concerns could wait.
At least that was what she had planned before she saw what had been in store for her. There had been no indication of a break-in or an intruder; all the objects in her two-story castellated capsule house that she shared with her parents were in their proper place, at least until she got to her room, she noticed the arbitrary clothes laid on her bed were definitely not flung the way she flung them. All of her clothes were neatly folded and laid out on top of her bed in pristine condition; in fact, her room even seemed to have been cleaned up; the laundry that she had tossed in her hurry in the morning had been piled up in the bag and her desk, of which she could never see the top because of all the clutter, had been neatened with all the items arranged in a line.
In fact, her room looked better than she had left it in the morning, if not for the glaring and unmistakable sign of a flagrant mishap lying on her bed.
In an affront to all of her delicate sentiments and an obvious mockery of her dignity, laid the provocative articles which she could barely recognize, her prized training gis, all of which were originally either in shades of orange as in the turtle style like her grandpa Goku or in a motley of indigo shades with the demon insignia on them which had been given by her master Piccolo, had been dyed in brutal pink with the most cloying scent on them as if they had been doused in rose syrup.
Now, Pan didn't mind pink; at times, she had gotten used to wearing pastel pink dresses or peppermint pink tops occasionally to widen her range of outfits. But this was a travesty, bright neon pink assaulted her eyes, and the offensive stench sprayed on the fabric made her sneeze. Even if not for the overpowering odor, the dyed fabric looked solid; it did not look as if it would return to its original coloring even after numerous washes. The potent chemical could be any one of the run-of-the-mill products available on the market, or it could be a specifically designed substance, courtesy of a certain Brief she knew all too well.
She immediately opened her closets to check the scale of damage, but it seemed that the mayhem had been limited to her battle outfits alone, none of her other clothes or items were tampered with. Oh good, at least her prized collection of plushies and soft toys were left alone, the miscreants hadn't found the secret location for her most cherished possessions in the storage cabinet underneath her bed. Thank the deities, her secret adoration for stuffed toys was not revealed.
This was more than a mere prank; no, this was a declaration of war, and she was going to exact retribution in a way the troublemakers would never forget. It was beyond easy to see who the culprits were; her grandma must have been going about chores, and when culprit number one must have sneaked in from the main house along with culprit number two, it could be none other than the dynamic troublemaker duo with their penchant for monkey-like antics causing mischief with no care as to the consequences. Her Uncle alone wouldn't have bothered or taken the time to straighten out her room for her, no the pronounced care in sorting her clothes spoke of an accomplice, one who thought cleaning her room meant a reduced retribution.
Well, this time, the two half-saiyans better say their prayers to all the kaoioshins in the universe, since she was going to pulverize their faces beyond recognition; not even their own mothers were going to recognize them once she was done with them, even if she carried a torch for the lavender-haired trickster, with his smoldering blue eyes and muscular chest. He should have thought about that before he played pranks on his girlfriend. Though their relationship had been going on in secret for a month, she had thought that he had gotten over his juvenile tendencies and grown up; he was definitely on her hit list now, along with her uncle. If they thought that they could get away with this, they had another thing coming, mercy was not even going to be an option in her reprisal.
Though she should have expected this when she had heard from Trunks that the two of them were spending the day catching up on old times. She had thought that the two rabble-rousers had toned down over the years after their grand and chaotic teenage years, especially after entering the workforce and reaching the prime ages past thirty. They had played so few jokes over the years that she had almost forgotten the heights of their playfulness, since the two had never gotten together like this to specifically target and enrage her, not in this magnitude.
Just looking at the offending hue of her precious garments sent her into an apoplectic fury, mumbling expletives under her breath. She really needed to think of good ways to dismember the vandals; it would definitely help in calming her down, more so than all the meditation methods that Mr Piccolo taught her.
Her ki skyrocketed as her anger mounted, letting out a roar of aggression. She took to the skies, speeding up with one destination in mind: Capsule Corporation. If the two of them thought that they could hide their kis, they were really in for it, especially since Trunks had revealed their secret hideout to her. A bunker underneath the northern spaceship port wasn't going to save them from her wrath. Pan exhaled as she let out her warning into the clear skies: "Trunks and Goten, you will be sorry when I get my hands on you".
Elsewhere, two similar bursts of enraged kis were felt, though they were in two different places far apart. The causes of the victims' misery were the same. Polished pink pieces of their apparel lay before them in a flagrant display of vandalism.
"Someone is going to pay for this", two resounding roars were heard as the two separate areas surrounding the flaring kis dissipated into rubble.
Notes: Hello all, this is my first story ever and I hope to deliver a quick comedy drabble set after the end of DBGT, Goku lives since he is my favorite. Trunks x Pan established relationship will be mentioned but this is a humour drabble. I just couldn't resist this story, it's been on my mind since forever. The number of chapters will be built as the story goes on.