.::FOUR::.
Bulma found herself staring up into Vegeta's cold eyes, his intense look demanding her attention. Despite the unsettling presence of the energy ball he had surrounding his finger, only a slight sliver of fear ran through her. For some reason, Bulma couldn't shake the feeling that the Saiyan was only toying with her, but before she could say anything, a sudden burst of energy emerged from out of nowhere, hurtling right in between them. The mysterious energy ball collided with Vegeta's hand, causing the ki ball he held to shoot up toward the vaulted ceiling, but fortunately, it disintegrated just before reaching its destination.
The sudden collision pulled Vegeta's attention away from her and drew his gaze toward the origin of the rogue energy ball. With swift reflexes Bulma could barely track, Vegeta relinquished his hold on her neck and used his other hand to push her behind him quickly. Overwhelmed by a rush of fear, Bulma's trembling knees buckled, causing her to collapse onto the floor behind him next to the island. Her heart raced.
"What exactly do you think you're doing, Vegeta?"
Bulma's eyes shot open, instantly alert as the sound of a voice she knew all too well reached her ears.
Yamcha!
It was Yamcha! Her heart did flipflops in her chest as she stared up at the Saiyan's bare back. She watched as Vegeta clenched his fist, and within seconds, the aura around him turned dark as he exuded an overwhelming amount of raw energy that blew her hair back. The force of it began shaking the cabinets and everything they held within.
Vegeta took one step forward. Bulma knew a dangerous situation was about to unfold. She needed to intervene and to do something before this turned dangerous. She reached out and touched Vegeta's back, hoping it might stop him, but the inevitable happened before Bulma could speak up.
In a sudden burst of motion, Vegeta launched himself at Yamcha in a vicious attack. The clash of power between the two was terrifying, and the force of their collision reverberated throughout the first floor. Bulma's heart sank to her stomach, and she screamed, knowing she was too late.
Her eyes widened in shock as punches were exchanged between them. A wave of adrenaline surged through her veins as she witnessed the brutal scene unfold before her. Vegeta hurled Yamcha out through the opened back doors and onto the back porch.
Bulma felt as if she were going to be sick as she watched her boyfriend trip over his own two feet and fall onto the ground before the Saiyan. The alien laughed menacingly to himself, and another scream tore from Bulma's throat.
Vegeta bent down and grabbed the front of Yamcha's shirt in a merciless grip. Panic surged within her as the Saiyan began relentlessly punching her boyfriend's defenseless form. Each sickening thud was painful to bear witness to, and she began to cry. Horror and helplessness intertwined as Bulma watched Yamcha's futile attempts to shield himself from Vegeta's onslaught. Her heart wrenched as Yamcha tried desperately to push Vegeta away but with no success.
Overwhelmed by a sudden surge of determination, Bulma sprinted forward toward the chaos. She screamed at Vegeta to stop, but her words fell on deaf ears as he remained focused on his ruthless attack against her boyfriend. Her vocal cords strained as she unleashed another primal scream, her anger coming to a boiling point.
Frustration surged through her, driving her to lash out at Vegeta's broad back with her fists, an act of defiance that only inflicted more pain upon herself than him. Vegeta remained undeterred by her, the relentless force of his blows upon her boyfriend unrelenting. Bulma's desperation escalated further as Yamcha became a literal punching bag for the Saiyan, his arms dangling limp at his sides. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her knuckles, she summoned every ounce of strength and attempted to pry away his colossal arm that held Yamcha's shirt. Vegeta's grip remained unbreakable, his focus solely on pummeling Yamcha into submission.
In a final burst of fury, Bulma straightened and seized a handful of Vegeta's jet-black hair, her grasp unyielding as she yanked with all her might. The unexpected pull snapped Vegeta's focus, his head jerking back in response. Relief surged within Bulma as this, above all else, stopped his fist from connecting with Yamcha's bloody face again.
Bulma's triumph was short-lived, though, and a jolt of fear coursed through her veins when Vegeta slowly turned his head around to face her, his wrathful gaze piercing through her like a blade. She sucked in a breath as a shiver of fear ran down her spine when their eyes locked in a tense, unwavering stare. Bulma involuntarily retreated a step, her heart pounding in her chest.
Vegeta's labored breaths filled the room, punctuating the heavy silence with the rhythm of his exhales. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead as their gazes remained locked, and time seemed to stretch until Vegeta's gaze finally broke free from hers. He released his grip on Yamcha's shirt, and Bulma watched in horror as her boyfriend's limp body made a loud thud as it hit the ground. Vegeta slowly stood and turned around, returning to the kitchen.
Bulma remained frozen momentarily as she watched in bewilderment as Vegeta turned on the sink to wash away Yamcha's blood from his knuckles.
Bulma couldn't believe what she was witnessing! Her mind was still reeling from the chaos that had just unfolded. Her heart tightened as she stared over at Yamcha's motionless form on the ground, her concern for him overwhelming.
When the faucet was turned off, Bulma turned her attention back towards the kitchen. With Vegeta's hands now free of blood, he turned, made himself a plate of food, and then walked back into the dining room. He sat down leisurely and began to eat.
Driven by a fiery rage she could not control, Bulma stormed into the dining room, her emotions fueling every step she took. With an outstretched hand, Bulma delivered a sharp, resounding slap across Vegeta's cheek, the sound echoing throughout the room. Though her palm stung from the impact, his head barely moved.
"You heartless, arrogant bastard!" Bulma seethed, her voice trembling with fury. "How can you just sit there and eat after what you just did to him?"
Vegeta took a bite of food and then turned his attention toward her. He met her gaze with a prideful stubbornness.
"Easily," Vegeta retorted, his voice dripping with opposition. "He threatened me in the first place. The pathetic human deserved what he got."
Bulma's eyes widened at his admission, and she sucked in a breath. Vegeta turned away from her and began stuffing his mouth again.
"It could have been worse," Vegeta added after he swallowed another bite. "Now, get the fuck out of my face before I do the same thing to you, woman."
Bulma frowned and was about to reply with something clever, but Yamcha coughed behind her, drawing her attention. Yamcha was struggling as he tried to sit up. She sucked in a breath, and in an instant, her anger at Vegeta subsided, replaced by concern for her boyfriend's well-being. Despite the lingering tension in the room between her and Vegeta, it dissipated as she swiftly turned and moved to Yamcha's side.
He coughed again as she fell to the ground beside him. She brushed back a piece of hair from his bloody forehead with a shaky hand and whispered soothing words. She was genuinely filled with worry. He looked awful, and blood was everywhere.
"You'll be alright," Bulma whispered as silent tears began to fall. "I got something that can help you. Do you think you can stand?"
Yamcha gave her a short nod, and Bulma, supporting his weight, somehow managed to get him up into a standing position and guided him toward the hallway. Their steps were careful and deliberate, and once they finally reached her room, Bulma eased Yamcha onto her bed with gentle hands. Yamcha coughed again and leaned back against the pillows, the swelling on his face worsening by the minute. Bulma leaned over to her nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. She pulled out the small pouch and opened it, revealing the senzu beans.
As he chewed and swallowed, the healing powers immediately began to take effect. Bulma grasped his hand, her eyes never leaving his face as she watched his nose magically realign, and the bruising instantly diminished.
Within five minutes, Yamcha's bruises faded completely, and his strength returned tenfold; the only remnants of anything that happened was the dried blood on his face. Bulma smiled in relief when he finally took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Yamcha smiled back at her, but only briefly before he yanked his hand from hers and reached for the pouch of senzu beans she had sat on her nightstand. The smile Bulma held faded instantly, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. She leaned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. Not exactly the reunion she thought they'd have after what had just happened.
He sat up straight on her bed, knocking some of the pillows on the floor while he dug his finger around in the small pouch. "Where did you get these?" he asked her quickly.
"Yamcha, can't you just be grateful that I had them and was able to help you?" Bulma huffed.
He looked up at her, and his expression immediately softened. "You're right," he said, frowning. "I'm sorry."
Feeling guilty for snapping, she told him how and why Goku had entrusted her with them without saying the Saiyan's name. If she had, Bulma knew it would only cause a fight between the two—something she wanted to avoid.
Yamcha sat down the bag of senzu beans, placed a hand on Bulma's knee, and squeezed it softly. "I'm glad you had them."
Bulma blinked back, the tears threatening to fall before she looked back up at him. She was about to say something meaningful and endearing, but she was stopped before she could even start.
"Welp, I guess I'll get cleaned up." Yamcha squeezed her thigh again before practically hopping off the bed. "You still have some of my stuff in your closet?" he asked as he walked into the bathroom, not even giving her time to answer.
Bulma's mouth fell open in bafflement. It was as if he was completely unaffected by what had just happened in the kitchen.
"You still want to go?" Bulma asked out loud, stunned by his nonchalantness. "After what just happened?"
He came back out and looked at her with an airy expression, a wet towel in hand. "Yeah, I do. What time is it? I didn't wear my watch." Yamcha glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. "Good, we can still make our reservation at least. Might have to skip dessert."
As Yamcha returned to the bathroom, he quietly closed the door behind him. The sound of running water filled the silence of her bedroom. Bulma flopped back onto her bed with a long exhale. This evening had already turned out to be crazy, and she was not looking forward to what the rest of the night had in store.
"Do you still have a few of my shirts in your closet?" Yamcha's voice echoed from within the bathroom, startling Bulma and pulling her from her spiraling thoughts.
She responded flatly. "Yeah."
"Could you grab one for me?"
Suppressing an audible groan, she rose from her bed and entered the walk-in closet. It was hard for Bulma to comprehend how Yamcha was still so eager to go out after enduring such a brutal beating. Thinking back, Vegeta had been right: things could have turned out much worse for her boyfriend, and Yamcha had been fortunate to escape with only facial injuries.
Then again, she shouldn't have expected anything less from her 'famous baseball player' boyfriend. Even if she hadn't possessed a senzu bean to aid his recovery, Yamcha probably would have insisted on proceeding with their plans for the night anyway. And though Bulma was definitely not feeling up to the outing tonight, she refrained from sharing her thoughts with him.
Bulma sighed. Yamcha was her boyfriend, after all. Shouldn't partners be able to confide in each other about their feelings? One shouldn't have to keep things to oneself because of the reaction they knew they'd get from their significant other.
Bulma handed Yamcha a shirt, and then he retreated back into the bathroom. While he was in there, Bulma stole a glance outside her bedroom window, checking to make sure the gravity chamber was occupied. With the chamber's lights aglow, she breathed a sigh of relief, glad to avoid the Saiyan when the two finally ventured back down to the first floor.
Once Yamcha had finished getting ready, the two descended the stairs together. He led her out of the front door, clearly wanting to avoid the gravity chamber in the backyard. As she walked outside, Bulma's eyes bulged as her eyes lay on a gleaming new hovercar in the driveway.
"Yamcha! When did you get this?" Bulma asked, her astonishment evident as she ran a hand over the sleek black hood.
"Just last week," Yamcha said proudly. "I wanted to surprise you."
Bulma's bright smile faltered slightly as she mulled over why he had waited a week to reveal he'd bought a new car. Wasn't she his girlfriend after all? It seemed like purchasing a brand-new hovercar would be something a boyfriend would tell his girlfriend about.
She sucked in a deep breath and tucked those thoughts away for later.
"Well, consider me surprised," she said blankly, masking her genuine emotions. "Is this the new TX-180 Model?"
Yamcha beamed with delight. "You bet it is!"
"You know I'll have to take a look under the hood later, right?" Bulma attempted a smile.
"Already figured you'd say that!" he chuckled, graciously opening the passenger door for her.
Once they were both inside and buckled in, Yamcha started the engine, his smile never wavering while hers never quite touched her eyes. Together, they set off for their dinner reservations, holding hands.
XxX
Vegeta was inside the gravity chamber, performing his warm-up routine, when the sound of the departing hovercraft reached his ears. He smirked to himself. The blue-haired woman and her punching bag of a boyfriend were departing, leaving Vegeta all alone on the premises. Although he yearned for a stronger opponent, Vegeta had accepted that beggars couldn't be choosers and settled for what he'd gotten.
The rush of adrenaline that still coursed through his veins invigorated him, making him feel like he could run for miles. Finally finished with his warmups and determined to push himself to the limits, Vegeta walked over to the control panel, turning the dial higher than ever before. He positioned his knees apart for stability, subjecting himself to the relentless assault of artificial gravity. As the room turned a deep crimson, Vegeta stood firm, refusing to let the gravity overcome him.
As the last remaining royal of the Saiyan race, Vegeta should have been the first to achieve the legendary status of Super Saiyan. He resented playing catch-up with someone who had only discovered his Saiyan heritage as an adult.
Once Vegeta finally achieved the coveted transformation, Kakarot would meet his demise. Ideally, Vegeta hoped this would happen before the androids arrived, sparing him from prolonging his stay on Earth. However, if necessary, Vegeta vowed to fight alongside his enemy and endure the torment if it meant finally ending Kakarots life with his bare hands—the mere thought of the younger Saiyan pleading for mercy filled Vegeta with great determination.
With a smirk, Vegeta commenced his training session with the bots. Swiftly, he leaped into the air, unleashing a powerful ki blast toward one of the bots. In response, the bots began volleying the blast back and forth. Anticipating their move this time, Vegeta landed firmly on his feet and deflected the blast away from his face when they finally got around to shooting his ki back towards him. Repeating this process several times, he rapidly maneuvered around the chamber once his muscles adjusted to the heightened gravity.
"Is that the best you can do?" Vegeta bellowed at the rounded machines as he stood beneath them.
Vegeta charged his cosmic cannon, and soon enough, his hands were enveloped in a warm ki. With a resounding yell, he unleashed the blast toward the spherical bots, and two of them succumbed to his attack, collapsing into twisted heaps of metal on the ground. The remaining bots struggled to contain the force of the blast but managed to redirect it back toward Vegeta after a moment. Smirking confidently, he braced himself, crossing his arms in front of his face to shield himself against the impending strike.
Upon impact, the glowing orb caused Vegeta to cry out in pain, his arms searing from the heat of the blast. Gritting his teeth, he summoned all his strength and eventually repelled the blow. It collided with a nearby chair, reducing it to ashes. Vegeta suppressed his frustration at taking longer than expected to deflect a single cosmic cannon attack. He knew he was better than that. Vegeta shook his head in annoyance and began to charge his cosmic cannon again. He resolved to train relentlessly until his body became numb, and he could no longer remain upright.
XxX
The dinner Bulma and Yamcha had enjoyed felt like a dream come true. The two had overindulged themselves at The Rio, and it was worth every Zeni spent. Bulma was determined to keep her mind free and clear of the altercation between Yamcha and Vegeta, and after two cosmos and a large glass of the restaurant's most expensive wine, she found that she was succeeding admirably.
Yamcha had also been a master at diverting her attention during dinner, ensuring her an evening of blissful distractions. He had spared no expense tonight, opting for the finest of everything the restaurant offered. Once they finished their entrees, the two still had time and savored their desserts as a violinist approached their table to serenade them.
Now full of the extravagant meal, the two walked hand in hand down the street toward the club Yamcha had enthusiastically mentioned throughout their dinner. Bulma was glad to be able to walk off their late-night dinner, though she would rather go back to his apartment than to someplace new that would be teeming with a lot of sweaty bodies in close confines and loud music. She knew her ears would be ringing for days after this. She sighed, and Yamcha moved in closer, draping an arm around her bare shoulders. He pulled her to him and planted a kiss tenderly on her temple.
"Thank you for coming with me tonight," Yamcha whispered to her as they walked down the sidewalk.
Bulma smiled as she gazed at him and replied, "No thanks needed."
It was a date he had planned, after all. Why did he need thanks?
Before the couple turned the last corner, the booming bass of the club's music reached Bulma's ears. The two stopped at a crosswalk, and Bulma's eyes widened as she fixated on the very long line of eager clubgoers standing outside.
"There it is," Yamcha expressed. "Club Vision."
Once the light turned, Yamcha and Bulma crossed to the other side of the street, and her dread deepened. Despite Club Vision having been opened for several hours already, the queue still snaked along with a sizable crowd eagerly waiting for entry. Bulma frowned. The prospect of spending the night standing in line didn't align with her idea of fun.
"We can just go back to your place," Bulma suggested, halting their progress. She couldn't think of anything better than spending the rest of the night together, wrestling around between the sheets.
Yamcha smiled as he pulled her into a loving embrace, then gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "We don't have to wait in line," he revealed, his words tinged with a hint of mischief.
Confusion clouded Bulma's expression, and her smirk faded.
"What do you mean?" she inquired.
In response, Yamcha winked playfully. "I hope you don't mind if I do a small meet-and-greet."
Instantly, a wave of anger surged through Bulma, threatening to consume her. Every fiber of her being yearned to break free from Yamcha's embrace, to assert her independence and yell in his face. However, the constant presence of photographers who had been tailing them since they'd left The Rio held her back. Bulma understood all too well the detrimental consequences of negative publicity that could impact their lives.
Yamcha's entry onto the baseball team had propelled him to newfound fame, and their privacy had eroded. His team's impressive winning streak, currently at an astounding twelve games, only amplified the spotlight on him.
Yamcha relished every moment of his newfound recognition, but the constant intrusion had become tedious for Bulma. Growing up as Dr. Brief's daughter, whose groundbreaking inventions, such as the Capsules, had revolutionized the world, Bulma had long been accustomed to a life that was far from private. She frowned at him.
"There'll be VIP seating on the balcony," he explained, his half-smile failing to conceal the underlying tension he knew was inevitably between the two now. "And we can have free drinks all night long. All I have to do is hang out at the DJ booth for a little bit; then I'll be yours for the rest of the night."
A surge of exasperation coursed through Bulma's veins, her breath escaping in a huff as she reluctantly took a step back and placed her hand in Yamcha's. Together, they continued down the illuminated sidewalk, the atmosphere around them heavy with an awkward silence. As they began walking past the long line of people waiting to get into the club, the two received sidelong glances and snarky remarks, further worsening the mood.
Reaching the imposing double doors, Yamcha confidently nodded to one of the burly bouncers stationed by the entrance. Surprisingly, the man guarding the door placed a finger on his earpiece and said, "Yamcha, with a plus one."
With a nod of approval from the bouncer, the door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer of the nightclub. Rows of blacklights hung from the ceiling, casting a deep purple tint upon the small group of people within. A petite woman with a pixy haircut clad in all leather stepped forward, extending her hand toward Yamcha.
"Glad you could make it on such short notice," she greeted, her voice conveying authority.
"Thank you for having me," Yamcha said as their hands met in a brief, respectful shake. The woman introduced herself as Katori, head bouncer.
"Now, if you both will follow me," she beckoned them, leading them to a spiral staircase where they all began ascending toward the VIP section.
Bulma's eyes widened at the breathtaking sight that unfolded before her. The VIP section boasted a private bar, a smaller yet vibrant dance floor, and a long balcony overlooking the large club below. Thankfully, the second floor was less crowded than its bustling counterpart. Katori guided Yamcha and Bulma to a secluded corner booth adjacent to the balcony, where a chilled bottle of champagne awaited them at the center of the table.
"The bar tabs on us tonight, guys. And," she turned to Yamcha. "I'll come to get you when it's time." Katori swiftly departed, leaving them alone.
Taking her seat on the plush white leather couch, Bulma crossed her arms defensively over her chest. Her gaze fixated on the undulating crowd dancing below. Yamcha settled beside her, pouring two glasses of champagne. He extended one flute toward Bulma, his eyes imploring her to find common ground.
Bulma regarded the offered glass with caution, but eventually, she accepted the drink and downed it quickly, the cool liquid proving only a temporary breather from the rising heat of her anger.
"Come on, Bulma, talk to me, please!" Yamcha begged as he placed a hand on her knee. "All I have to do is go down to the booth, stand there while a couple of songs play, and then I come back up here to be with you for the rest of the night."
Bulma's frustration simmered beneath the surface, her emotions swirling. She knew Yamcha was attempting to diffuse the escalation of tension between them, but it wouldn't work on her tonight. Her eyes finally met Yamcha's as she turned to face him, struggling to control her rising voice.
"I can't believe you just couldn't tell me, Yamcha!" she uttered with a tinge of disbelief. "That's the part that bothers me the most. You pretended that coming here had been part of a date! But tonight has all just been for you!"
"It is part of the date!" Yamcha said, voice rising slightly.
Bulma leaned forward, grabbed the champagne bottle, and poured herself a full glass. Looking at Yamcha, she gestured towards the crowd pulsating on the dance floor below.
"This is for you, not us," she remarked, her voice bitter. "This whole place is for you."
As her gaze remained fixated on the swaying bodies down below, Bulma took several gulps of champagne.
"You should have just come here by yourself," she stated, her frustration lending an icy edge to her voice.
Before Yamcha could interject, Katori appeared out of nowhere and interrupted their exchange.
"Yamcha, we're ready for you," she announced.
Yamcha nodded in her direction, then turned back toward Bulma, his gaze lingering on her. His hand tenderly squeezed her thigh before departing, leaving her with her swirling thoughts.
She refilled her glass and rose from her seat, standing next to the balcony's edge, observing the tightly packed dance floor below. The space was suffocating, and despite the little breathing room, the dancers moved with passion, lost in the rhythm that seemed to envelop the whole club.
Turning her attention to the DJ booth as she waited for Yamcha to appear, Bulma took another long swig of champagne and began to sway her hips in sync with the music, unable to help herself. She had decided that she was going to take advantage of that open bar and let the alcohol take over tonight. As one song transitioned into the next, she reached for the champagne bottle, only to discover it nearly drained. A frown etched itself upon her features as she surveyed the nearby bar.
When the DJ introduced, "Yamcha, a player from the Taitans baseball team!" Bulma frowned and turned away.
She sat down her empty glass and walked over to the small bar in the opposite corner. With each step, her frustration grew, fueled by the sight of Yamcha standing at the DJ booth now, his hands held up above his head as he bounced to the beat of the techno music that the DJ began remixing. Her boyfriend seemed to be enjoying himself.
Good for him!
Bulma couldn't help but seeth at the thought of him reveling in the limelight right now, especially after the few words they'd exchanged right before he'd had to leave.
Bulma sat on a plush leather bar stool as she eyed the many bottles of alcohol behind the bar. The bartender came over to her.
"What'll ya' have?" he asked pleasantly.
"I'll start with a Cosmo, please."
The bartender winked at her. "Coming right up."