We'll Name Her Ex
By Rob Morris
SATAN CITY, A YEAR AFTER THE DEFEAT OF CELL
18 had at first greeted the news with some cynicism as the doctor explained.
"It seems like, whatever mad science Gero used on you, he kept certain systems fully intact and functional, including obviously the reproductive."
18 rolled her eyes.
"Gee, I wonder why he would do that."
Bulma actually speculated it aided Cell in creating better offspring than his Namekian genes alone would allow, but 18 just threw up – again – after hearing this.
But now, it all had passed, and a small wonder was being cleaned up to be shown to the woman who cursed that no sedative known was enough to knock her out.
"I guess I could have asked Vegeta to punch me."
Kirillin had not run – except to get bread and butter pickles and butter rum pecan ice cream – exactly that combination, always, and was by her side even now as the baby was presented to them.
"Great – I gave birth to Lord Voldemort."
"HONEY!"
"Just – kidding. Bulma says there is a nose – very recessed, due to your influence, that will come in over time. She is – cute. And I guess we have to name her."
Kirillin had been explicitly told to defer to her in this – even by the friends who had no children.
"She doesn't have a name?"
"Give me a break, she just got here, alright?"
As she calmed and began to contemplate, shooting down an infinite list of possibilities, Kirillin's phone messenger beeped.
"I told everyone to leave me be unless something big was up, and the sky outside looks great – this better not be Yamcha with another Daddy joke – or I'll put my fist through his…"
But the message was from a surprise – huge surprise – headache surprise – past associate. Kirillin needed no advice to tell him talking to an ex-girlfriend while his wife was holding their newborn was a path to something Shenron and Porunga together couldn't bring him back from, so he muted and blocked immediately, hoping she didn't need help, though the airy 'Wanna get together?' belied that notion.
However, he forgot to silence his own mouth.
"OH, – not now of all times! Maron!"
18 heard and lit up, a smile beaming down at the baby.
"Marron! Oh, what a perfect name! Kirillin, you're awesome! I was going to yell at you for that 'not now' comment, but you were right – I couldn't make up my mind, and that name is perfect! Marron, welcome to the family!"
Kirillin tried to recover.
"Honey, I don't know if that's really a great name. Maybe we should…"
"Now who's dithering? You gave her the greatest name imaginable – so Marron it is! Marron, meet your Daddy!"
Unable to get a word in edgewise, Kirillin looked at the cutie in his arms, making sure to whisper this time.
"Well, I'll be glad to spend my money on you."
A year or so later, the truth would come out, and to her great credit, 18 would recall that she had seized on the name despite her husband's halting objections. So she calmly made sure that everyone knew of their daughter's name spelling and emphasis of pronunciation – on pain of pain.
Kirillin for his part kept busy fetching large Capsule Corp pods laden with bread and butter pickles – for another year thereafter.
And all was well, until that day, not long before the next fateful tournament, when a knock came on the door.
"You never answered my texts!"
Kirillin explained and turned the visitor away, but the experience left mother and daughter with hard questions.
"Mommy, how is it that lady can stand up straight?"
"Honey – I have no idea. Now, you stay here with Daddy. Mommy has to avenge that 'Auntie' comment."