Dragon Ball: Space Adventures
About as well it could have gone VI
The wind coming from the mountain blew around the field softly and slowly like a calm mother caressing its own child, picking up dust and leaf's and whatever unfortunate enough to be sent away. A week ago, Uub had been watching the peaks that stood above him from the comfort of his village, unaware and uncaring of whatever fate held next. Now, far from anything that he could call his, the boy stared at similar mountains which had been cautiously watching them for the past few hours, and realized that those white dots were the same as his. Maybe, if he flew back home he'd find similar peaks if not the very same mountains that colored this world. That realization made him hurt his head a little bit too much for his taste. Worst was, he didn't how or why caused it. What was so odd for another world to have mountains or oceans or birds? Weren't those things the most common element of any healthy planet? No, that wasn't it, it was worse than that, but for the time being it evade him easier than a monkey laughing as he runs away with a pair of bananas, so instead, he focused on something he did understand, something that despite everything was as common as breathing every day. So even if he did think he should act, a part of his told him it was too late for that—and to be completely honest, he looked forward to it.
When the trio landed in the field with the river watching them near, and the walls of the castle stood judgingly in the distance with its towers and dark walls acting as guarding of the two species, the boy eagerly awaited because he too had something to settle. An entire week he had expended chained on that ship, victim of the wishes of a petulant childish girl more concerned with having fun than the fate of her very own world. To say he was supporting the blue-haired girl would be an understatement—but even if that were to fail, he'd take care of it himself. Uub didn't punch girls, but one doesn't need to punch someone to teach a lesson, his master had taught him that, and for once in his live, he would put that thing he didn't find believable into life.
Bulla's red fire boots smashed into the ground as her blue eyes richened down in anger, her left cheek still carried the sign of a fist and the humiliation she'd just suffered at the hands of the black-haired girl. Never in her entire eleven years of existence had she been made such a fool—not even those times she fought her brother and suffered such crushing and cruel defeats did the girl ever felt this hurt. But that wouldn't stand, not for long. Rigidly she prepared, stretching and staring deep into the eyes of the girl who had just so rudely made a fool out of her.
—I hope you're prepared, Son Satan Pan, what you've done to me will not stand. — She said with anger, clenching her fists in preparation as the other girl calmly stretched with a confident grin on her face.
A feeling of morbid rage still flew through her veins, Bulla still couldn't believe that had happened, what was wrong with that short haired weirdo, who thinks that punching people just because they said something they disliked garneted enough reason to strike. All her dreams about fighting were thrown out the window and smashed to pieces. Where was the warmup? The initial conversation and meeting between the two parts, where each side presented itself and made its ideas known while both interchange and debate before realizing that all the talk is in fact pointless and the only remaining thing is now battle. Where was all of that? All the care and respect for the other warrior, for his years of training and learning from various masters and all the blood and tears and sweat spilled and dropped, where was all of that? It wasn't like they hadn't fought before, so why was she being so god forsakenly rude now? Couldn't she handle a little bit of chatter? Were a few words really all that was needed to anger her? How did she even intended to be a warrior if that was all it took?
Her Father had said a thousand times; "You cannot let your emotions cloud your judgment. In a fight, even the slightest emotion can throw you off your balance. You must be calm—Wear your armor around proudly and smarty so no one can hurt you where it matters the most." Bulla admired how profoundly serene he was all the time, with his crossed arms and relaxed dark eyebrows which seemed like fields of wheat breathing and waving across their small patch of land where they farmed. That was her Father, Vegeta Briefs, King of all Saiyan's—A proud warrior, and a mountain of serenity. The opposite of what she had done. She had lost control in the middle of the city, screaming and charging like a rabid dog who's brain has finally cooked off. Not only that, but her hair had fully raised, standing just like her father's appearing like mountains cliffs high in the world. What would he said if he'd seen that? The girl couldn't help but to imagine the large disappointed eyes of his watch horrified as her display of brutness and uncontrollable rage, those dark eyebrows lowered in disappointment, and that horrible notion of his head shaking side to side and how he'd turn around with both arms cross and walk away both thinking the very same thing, that she wasn't a warrior nor a girl, just a loose canon, and a girl unworthy of the title of Princess of all Saiyans. That's why she had to win this fight, so she could restore her honor, her pride, and to prove once and for all she was a warrior just like the ones before. afterwards, he would go down to the people of the town and she would apologize for her behavior, but there would be time for that latter. She raised her blue burning eyes towards Pan, who smugly stared as if she knew something she didn't. She would take care of that now.
—What's the matter princess? Does your cheek hurt a little?
In an instant, all the blood rushed back to the brain, overriding every stop the girl had fought to raise again. That was the straw that broke the camel's back, the thing that send her off the wall and made her clench her teeth in indomitable rage—the words that sent all the reason away from the brain. Bulla didn't care about anything, she didn't care anymore, she only cared but one thing, that Pan regretted what she did. She had punched her, made a fool out of her, and now, she would pay for it.
—Y-you horrible person! You will see what happens to those who dare hurt The Princess of all Saiyans!
The cyan haired girl roared and extended both arms forward, imitating her father's fighting pose, and lunged towards the other girl in a flash of speed and light, creating a large explosion of dust behind her and appearing in front in a second. With her left knee, she prepared to hit Pan and like a slicing knife she sliced where the girl's head was. The bandana girl moved down, turned around and bounced with her pinky toes two times back, Bulla turned around, and speeded again. This time, she charged her right left forward like a straight line and Pan quickly got down again, Bulla stopped the charge midair, and did a turn and put both legs in the ground just in time for her to dodge the barrage of punches that went her way, all like missiles that rasped her face. Bulla jumped back, and Pan flew straight into her with one leg extended—Bulla crouched and saw the leg pass over her and she turned around and lunged, but the other girl had already turned and she managed to lung her left arm forward, charged and ready. The girl blocked it, but the impact shook her like an earthquake. As if every tectonic plate was shaking at the very same time and lava poured from the cracks—but she resisted, and as Pan retreated her arm, she raised her right leg as a high kick, but it missed, and the black haired girl grabbed the feet and like pillow, she held her high in the sky and sent her flying down. Bulla crashed into the ground, managing to land with her hands and legs, and turned to see a flash of light dive towards. She jumped out, rolling in the dirt as the earth exploded near her, sinking like a quicksand and cracking more and more around her. The black haired girl jumped out as the ground beneath kept sinking, and Bulla went for the clash. The earth exploded like an asteroid hitting the place, rocks and dirt and everything weak and stupid enough to be near was sent flying away crashing madly towards everything else. Both girls jumped away, and back. And started to interchange punches wildly. Bulla sent everything she had, crashing against the forearms of Pan like car hitting a brick wall, then as the blue haired girl flew a punch that the other girl turned her head to dodge, she responded by guiding a left hook straight into her face. The punch rumbled her head around like an earthquake, everything was turning and moving and day and night seemed to fight for control as if it was noon. Her entire head felt like the insides of a washing-machine. Then there was silence, a deafening silence which seem to encompass the whole earth. As if the signals her brain sent got lost in the way, never to be delivered to any extremity of the body, or as if they never existed at all. Bulla recoiled around, reality was flashing between darkness and light, she couldn't even tell what was wrong or what day it was—Everything was a tornado of pain and confusion which took her dear seconds to get back from. Slowly, darkness turned to light and the moving and blurry imagine of her eyes became clear once more. The world regained color and emotion. Then, she felt it, the blood poring from her nose like a leak from the floor above, red in color and mixing with her tan skin and dropping quietly towards the body below. She was bleeding, bleeding from the nose—Pan had made her have a nosebleed. It dripped and it feel in a carmesi torrent like a waterfall and it hurt like hell. Suddenly, everything was cold, as if she was taking a bath in a freezing river, as every cell suddenly lost all their traction and the deafening quiet noise of her blood spilling down had sent out an order of general surrender. Then she saw her, Pan. Standing proud and tall with one fist raised like a twelve of diamonds. It hurt, it hurt a lot. Those were the only words her mind could form. What was she supposed to do now? She had never felt like this, so out of place her entire brain seemed jammed and out of ideas—She didn't even knew she could bleed like this. Then she thought; What would her father do? But it was too late for anything else, for the black-haired girl jumped towards her like a ballistic missile. Bulla's mind told her to move, but she couldn't, she was unable to even register her tail, it was like her feet were tied to the ground and filled with concrete, and by the time Bulla could register anything again, her cheek burned with pain, and her head was turning around the world, her legs were filled with jelly and whatever sensation of confidence she had felt was burned away. She was on the ground, resting covered in dirt. She had lost.