.::SIX::.
A sharp knock echoed from the back of Bulma's bedroom door, pulling her from a dreamless sleep. She rolled over, groaning as she yanked the blankets down from around her face.
"Bulma?"
It was her mother. Just great.
"Yeah?" Bulma called out hoarsely, brushing her tangled hair away from her face.
The door creaked open, and her mother slowly stepped into the room. Her face went from calm to worried as she eyed Bulma. She hoped it didn't look like she'd been crying all night.
"Is... everything alright?" her mother asked hesitantly. "It's nearly two o'clock."
"Is it?" Bulma mumbled sleepily.
She rubbed her eyes and turned her head toward the clock.
"Yes, it is! Why are you still in bed?" her mother asked.
"I was up late," said Bulma.
"Yamcha's downstairs," her mother told her. "Says he was in the neighborhood."
"He's what!?" Bulma demanded as her eyes popped open wide as he eyed her mother.
"He wants to see you, " her mother stated.
A fierce surge of anger coursed through Bulma as she flung the comforter aside and sprang out of bed, quick as a wink. Her mind was racing ninety miles a minute as she replayed the previous night's events in vivid detail.
How dare he show up today after she specifically told him not to!
Her mother looked curious. "Are you guys alright?"
"We're fine, Mom," Bulma replied flatly as she rummaged through the scattered clothes on the floor for a pair of clean shorts. Spotting a suitable pair, she quickly slipped them on. "It was just a long night."
"Well, alright. He's out waiting on the back porch," her mother said.
Though her concern was evident, her mom exited the room without saying another word.
Just as her mother had said, Yamcha was seated in one of the wicker chairs on the back porch. Seeing him stirred another wave of irritation as she stepped outside. She was about to start yelling, but Yamcha quickly raised his hands in a peacemaking gesture.
"Before you say anything, just let me speak, okay? Please?" he begged.
She took a deep breath to steady her rolling emotions, and then Bulma went and sat in the chair across from him. Unable to look him in the eye, Bulma turned her focus toward the unoccupied gravity chamber. She hoped the Saiyan would come out of the house to train soon. She did not want to have this conversation and knew Vegeta's presence might deter Yamcha from continuing.
"I know I said I'd call first," he said. "But I figured you might not pick up if I did."
"You would have been correct," she answered coolly.
"I thought this was the best way to handle things," he said.
Bulma finally tore her gaze away from the gravity chamber and met Yamcha's eyes. The moment their eyes locked, it felt like a jolt to her very core, triggering a flood of memories from their past. She recalled all the adventures they had shared as teenagers and even years after, and a wave of emotions surged through her, shattering her heart even more.
"Just say what you came here to say," she said, her voice surprisingly steady to her own ears.
Bulma crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to appear emotionless even though she was falling apart inside.
Yamcha raked a hand through his hair. "I know I've been an awful boyfriend lately," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret.
Bulma's eyebrows shot up. Only lately? she thought to herself.
"For a while," he quickly corrected as if reading her thoughts. "And I'll own up to that. I know I've been too jealous lately."
He lowered his gaze to his feet.
"All for no reason," he continued, sounding almost sad. Yamcha glanced over at the gravity chamber and then back to her. "I know that Saiyan is an asshole. I've been completely irrational when it comes to him." He paused, his stare boring into hers as he swallowed. "I've let my insecurities about myself get in the way of us.
"The way I acted last night, at the club and when I came back here. The way I acted toward you..." Yamcha's voice trailed off.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was low, almost trembling. Bulma had never heard him like this before.
"Sometimes, I just get stuck in my own head, you know?" He paused as if trying to think of the right words to say. "And it's like I can't break free from the thoughts once they're in there. I'm so sorry for how I acted, especially toward you, Bulma."
As he finished his sentence, his voice was barely a whisper. Then, with a shaky hand, he reached out to touch Bulma on the knee, but she swiftly crossed her legs and shifted away from him. Yamcha's face flushed with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," Yamcha said, his voice full of regret. "I'm sorry for letting my temper get the best of me. I should never have started a fight with those two guys last night, either. They-"
"Haru and Ronin," Bulma interjected, a spike of anger surging up her spine.
"Uh, what?" Yamcha asked, confused.
"Haru and Ronin. That's their names."
"Oh," Yamcha said stupidly.
Something snapped in Bulma, and she could no longer keep her thoughts to herself.
"They were my friends from college, Yamcha! Something you would have known if you would have just listened to me last night! But noooooo, you had to inflate your fragile little ego and pick a fight. Again! Even after I begged you, Yamcha, begged you to leave them alone and go home! If it weren't for your ridiculous pride getting in the way, we'd be at your house right now!"
Yamcha's expression faltered, a look of pain crossing his face as her words hit their mark. His skin turned gray, and he gave a single nod.
"You're right," he murmured, his voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper. "I wish last night didn't even happen."
Laughter escaped her before she could stifle it. It was ironic that he said that because Bulma hadn't even wanted to go on a date in the first place. She met his gaze, and for a brief moment, she saw a flicker of irritation in his eyes surface, but a blink later, and he had regained his composure.
"Come back with me now," he offered hopefully.
She wanted to laugh again in his face but bit her lip. He could not be this delusional. Could he?
"Yamcha," Bulma began, her tone steady. "This between us has been unraveling for a while now. You know that, right?"
Yamcha's expression was painful. It was as if it had taken him until this moment to realize exactly what she was saying.
"Bulma, please," he implored quickly, his voice cracking as he reached out to her with desperate eyes and hands.
He gently placed his hands on her knee, clutching it.
"I can't do this anymore, Yamcha," Bulma whispered, her voice trembling as tears filled her eyes.
"Bulma..." Yamcha's voice broke. "I'll change, I promise."
Summoning the last of her courage, Bulma met his gaze once more. Her following words were almost too heartbreaking to utter.
"I'm done with us, Yamcha," she declared with a firm, resolute tone. "Until you sort out your new life, I can't be a part of it."
"Why can't we just stay together now? We can figure it out together," he implored, almost sounding like the teenage boy she had once known.
It broke her heart all over again.
"Because I don't want to," Bulma replied, her lips trembling.
She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady herself. She had spent so much of her life with the man before her. Bulma had been through so much in her thirty years on this Earth, and she found that this conversation was the hardest thing she'd ever done.
"So you... don't want to be with me anymore?" Yamcha's question was almost lost on her ears.
Unable to hold his gaze longer, Bulma looked away, the moment too much for her to handle.
"No, I don't, Yamcha," she murmured as she shook her head, her voice faltering. Then, hastily, she added, "We just need a break."
"For how long?" he questioned.
"For a while," she said.
Bulma met his eyes again, hoping she portrayed a strong, independent woman on the outside because, on the inside, she was crumbling to pieces.
And then, right at that moment, history repeated itself when Vegeta swung open the door to the back porch. It instantly drew Bulma and Yamcha's attention.
Thank Kami, Bulma thought.
She could not take any more of this.
"Causing trouble again, human?" Vegeta questioned Yamcha, his voice dripping with disgust.
Surprisingly, Yamcha ignored the Saiyan and remained silent, then turned back to look at Bulma.
"Actually," Bulma said, taking advantage of Vegeta's presence, "he was just leaving."
The two men stared at her as she rose from the wicker chair and stood as calmly as she could.
"I hope you find what you're looking for, Yamcha," Bulma told him, her voice surprisingly steady. "Goodbye."
Bulma knew the image of Yamcha's face—eyes wide, his mouth hanging open in disbelief—would be etched in her memory forever. It would be a moment she knew she would replay in her mind for a while.
As Bulma turned her back on Yamcha, she walked toward the house, her heart pounding in her chest with relief, regret, and, above all, sadness.
She cried all the way to her room, and it wasn't until she shut the door behind her that the thought struck her. She hadn't even brought up the hairbow she'd found in his car—honestly, she hadn't thought anything about it. This realization hit her like a wave, leaving her feeling worse than before.
xXx
Vegeta watched as the frail human turned and walked away from the back porch. The sight satisfied him; he was pleased to see the woman assert dominance over the male again today, just like last night. Vegeta hoped this would be the final time he returned to the property.
As Vegeta entered the gravity chamber, his mind shifted gears. The door shut behind him, and he immediately went to the control panel. Vegeta adjusted the settings and increased the level by another 10%. More than he had trained under the previous night. He knew the added intensity would push him further, sharpening his edge as he continued his relentless pursuit of becoming the legendary Super Saiyan.
Although only two training bots remained operational, Vegeta was confident they would suffice for now. He centered himself before focusing on the bots in the air and attacked.
Ten hours later, Vegeta lay sprawled and battered on the floor of the gravity chamber, his body covered with bruises, sweat, and exhaustion. Each movement was a struggle; his limbs were heavy, and his breathing ragged. Summoning the last ounce of strength, he finally rose and turned off the gravity.
As the intense pressure of the enhanced gravity dissipated, Vegeta felt the familiar sensation of normal gravity. His knees buckled, and he had to brace himself against the control panel to avoid collapsing entirely.
After a while, Vegeta regained his balance, left the gravity chamber, and entered the house with slow steps. He found the blue-haired woman sitting alone at the table. She was sitting in the dark, the only light source being the three-tiered candle on the kitchen island. On the table before her sat a big glass bottle filled with dark liquid and a smaller glass, which she was filling up as he entered the kitchen. She downed the liquid quickly.
A small, insistent voice inside Vegeta told him to head straight to his sleeping quarters and avoid the first floor, but as was customary after his training, Vegeta always went into the kitchen for some water. He diminished the nagging thought, not intending to let the blue-haired woman deter him from his established routines.
Vegeta moved purposefully, completely ignoring the woman, and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. His body was still throbbing from the grueling session, and he approached the fridge with a sense of urgency. He slid the glass underneath the water dispenser, and the cool water began to fill it. He focused on the steady stream. Once full, Vegeta took deep gulps of the crisp, cool water. When he emptied the glass, he repeated the gesture and drank again.
Her soft voice broke the silence as Vegeta drank from his refilled glass for the fifth time.
"Hey."
Thinking she was going to stay silent, the unexpected sound nearly caused him to choke on the water. He managed to suppress the cough with a grimace as he swallowed it down. Vegeta set the glass back underneath the tap and refilled it with another press of the water dispenser.
"What do you want, woman?" he asked with his back to her, irritated.
"Come over here and have a drink," she stated, her voice carrying a note of something Vegeta couldn't quite place.
"I already am drinking."
She chuckled softly. "Not this kind of drink."
Despite his Saiyan instinct, which typically gave him a sharp sense of his surroundings, the exhaustion from his intense training and the kitchen's darkness made it challenging to discern her true intentions as he gazed at her over at her.
Yet, despite his best efforts to ignore her, a strong sense of curiosity tugged at him. Compelled by an unspoken drive he couldn't place, Vegeta put the empty glass on the counter and stepped toward the dining room.
Somehow, Vegeta found himself sitting next to her at the table. The blue-haired woman pulled out another smaller glass from out of nowhere and placed it before him as if she had expected him to come.
She poured them both a drink.
Curious, Vegeta leaned forward, grabbed the glass, and sniffed its contents. He immediately recoiled as the sharp, acrid scent of the liquid burned his nostrils. He glanced sideways at the blue-haired woman with a skeptical expression.
"Just try it, Vegeta," she urged as she picked up her glass and swallowed its contents. "What else do you have to lose?"
Despite the inner voice warning him to resist this situation and return upstairs, Vegeta disregarded it. He was utterly alone in this world; the only thing worth living for was to become a Super Saiyan, defeat Kakarot, and finally destroy this planet.
Vegeta hated even thinking about it; he knew he was still far from attaining his goal. What did he have to lose, indeed? With a resolute sigh, he tipped the glass to his lips and swallowed the liquid in one swift motion. The strong, fiery warmth of the drink burned his throat, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
The woman was already in motion before he could return his glass to the table. She poured another generous amount into hers and then reached over to refill his.
"Cheers," she said as she clinked her glass against his.
She downed the dark liquid with practiced ease.
By the time Vegeta took his second swig of the liquid, he recognized its nature. His extensive travels to various planets had exposed him to various beverages that altered your state of mind. During his missions, indulging in the local drinks and entertainment the city nights had to offer was common before carrying out his orders to obliterate a planet.
Vegeta processed the familiar burn of the intoxicant he'd just swallowed as the woman poured another round. This was the third time his glass had been filled, and he already felt numbness within his legs. Kami knew how many she'd had before he'd finished his workout in the chamber.
This time, when she picked up her glass, Vegeta raised his along with her, and the sound of their glasses briefly clinking against each other broke the quiet. The two downed the contents simultaneously and set their glasses back down on the table at the same time.
They were quiet after that, and the room eventually fell into a companionable silence. This surprised Vegeta because the blue-haired woman hadn't been known as silent and demure the whole time he'd known her. She continued refilling their glasses, and he matched her, shot for shot.
After about ten minutes, she finally spoke, breaking the silence.
"Sometimes I wish I could be like you," she declared, resting her elbow on the table as she propped her chin in her hand, looking over at him.
Feeling uncomfortable by her stare, Vegeta furrowed his brow and shifted his gaze away, directing it out the nearest window. He wanted to laugh. If this woman only knew what he had endured throughout his life, she'd rethink that statement tenfold.
Not wanting to think about his life while under Frieza's rule, Vegeta reached over, grabbed the bottle in front of her, and poured a generous amount of dark liquid into their glasses. He knocked his back quickly, downing its contents in a single gulp, the burn a brief but welcomed distraction. The woman was picking up her glass when he sat his back down on the table more forcefully than he should have.
He turned his mind to other thoughts. Better thoughts.
Thoughts of him finally achieving his goal of becoming a Super Saiyan. It was the only thing he lived for now. The sheer weight of his ambition dominated his ever-waking thoughts. The prospect of finally getting his revenge on Kakarot exhilarated him to no end. Vegeta relished the thought of watching Kakarot witness all the death and destruction he would finally cause.
Vegeta smirked darkly to himself. He couldn't fucking wait.
The woman's chair creaked, and Vegeta blinked. The sudden shift in awareness jolted him back to the present. He had forgotten that she was sitting next to him for a moment. Vegeta cursed to himself. He knew the cause was the drink they'd been sharing. He'd sampled booze from other planets and had been intoxicated before. Having not eaten since this morning, Vegeta knew consuming this drink with her was not a good idea.
The woman began to pour them another round.
"I'm good," Vegeta admitted with a shake of his head.
The thought of being genuinely intoxicated in the presence of this woman did not appeal to him. Vegeta could tell the effects of the alcohol were already beginning to take hold, but thankfully, he knew he could still maintain control of himself. She shrugged and poured herself another drink. With a fluid motion, she downed it quickly, the dark liquid vanishing almost as soon as it was poured.
"Wanna' go outside?" she asked, her voice carrying an unfamiliar melancholy note.
"To do what?" he asked before his mind could stop himself.
She whispered, "To look at the stars."
After a moment of silence hung between the two, the blue-haired woman rose from her seat and walked towards the back door. Vegeta's legs moved as if they had a mind of their own. He found himself standing and followed behind her.
They stepped out into the cool night, and a gentle breeze of summer winds enveloped them as they crossed the backyard together. She led them to the center of the yard, a quiet, open space. The woman settled down on the grass, hands clasped over her stomach and stretched out. In a swift motion, Vegeta lowered himself onto the grass beside her, his body sinking into the soft, cool blades.
To his surprise, the woman was silent as they both stared up into the cloudless star-specked sky above.
As he looked up, Vegeta's mind churned with frustration and longing. The sight of the night sky, so expansive and free, ignited a deep-seated desire to escape. He cursed his current circumstances, wanting more than anything to leave this planet behind.
The thought of pilfering a spaceship from Capsule Corp and disappearing into the stars above was tantalizing. Vegeta profusely missed the freedom of interstellar travel and the thrill of exploring new planets.
Yet, despite this intense desire, unfortunately, a larger part of him remained anchored to Earth. As he lay beside the woman with the cool night air gently rushing against them, Vegeta felt an odd sense of devotion to stay right where he was. Here, at Capsule Corp, it was the only logical place to be to achieve his goal of becoming a Super Saiyan. One day, Vegeta would surpass and destroy Kakarot, and it didn't matter how long it would take. Though Vegeta hoped it would be before the androids came.
The woman's voice cut through the silence, startling him.
"Do you miss it?" she questioned.
Vegeta lay there in the quiet for a moment before he responded. "Miss what?" His voice was gruff.
"Traveling through space," she explained, gesturing towards the sky.
Vegeta's brows knit together, and he frowned. It was as if she had plucked the very thought from his mind.
"Yeah," he admitted after a while.
She sighed again, a soft, almost wistful sound that seemed to drift into the night air. She turned her face back to the stars.
"I would love to do that," she said.
"Do what?" Vegeta asked, his mouth speaking before his brain could tell him not to—that damned drink.
"Travel through space. Exploring different planets," she elaborated her voice longing.
She turned to look at him again.
"Traveling to Namek was the first time I'd ever done it," she told him. Then she added, "That far, at least. "
She glanced at him briefly before turning her attention back to the night sky.
"Most planet inhabitants aren't so peaceful," Vegeta remarked truthfully, his gaze catching a shooting star.
Most of the planets that Vegeta had destroyed had less than hospitable occupants. If this woman traveled to another planet alone, the aliens would eat her alive. Not that he cared what happened to her. But still, it was true.
She gave a slight shrug. "I don't care. I'm just going somewhere different... getting away from here..." she said wistfully as her voice trailed off.
She fell silent for a long while.
"Well, go," Vegeta stated, breaking the silence after ten minutes.
"Where?" she asked, looking over at him confused.
"To space," Vegeta clarified, gesturing to the sky above them. "What's stopping you?"
Her response came with another long, heavy sigh. She was doing that a lot tonight. He found that he didn't like it.
"A lot of things," she admitted, her voice low.
"Name one," Vegeta pressed, while he kept his eyes trained on the sky above.
"Well," she chuckled lightly. "You, for one."
Vegeta scoffed.
"Me?" he asked, turning to face her.
She was smirking at him, and his frown deepened.
"You wouldn't last a week without me here, Vegeta," she told him. "Who would fix the bots for you?"
Vegeta mulled this question over. "Your father," he suggested.
"It would take him a week to fix just one of them, and you know it. He's way too busy. Also, no one else knows the bots like I do."
Vegeta's expression hardened. "That's not my problem. Teach someone else."
Her smile faltered at his retort, and for a brief moment, her eyes clouded with something Vegeta couldn't place.
"Yeah, I guess I could," she whispered.
The blue-haired woman rolled over, resettled on the grass, then continued gazing at the night sky.
Vegeta rolled over, too, instantly sensing the shift in her mood. For some reason, his comment had reignited her sad demeanor.
The quiet stretched between them again, growing heavier with each passing moment. The silence no longer felt as palliative as it had just moments before.
"It's not just you," the woman said breaking the silence. "The androids that are coming... They're the main reason I can't just leave and travel through space, no matter how much I want to escape."
Conversations weren't Vegeta's strong suit, so he stayed silent as he stared into the night sky. Lying out in the yard with the blue-haired woman offered an unexpected sense of solace, and time seemed to blur as they both remained unmoving. Vegeta was unaccustomed to such quiet, peaceful moments, and after a while, he wasn't sure how much time had passed, minutes, perhaps hours, but at some point, he must have drifted off.
Vegeta opened his eyes, unsure of when he had closed them, to find the woman standing above him. She stared down at him, smiling. It reached her eyes, which held a warmth that he wasn't used to receiving from her.
"Goodnight, Vegeta," she whispered, her voice almost tender.
He gave her a slight nod, and then she turned and headed toward the house. He stayed lying on the ground until he heard the backdoor open and close behind her. After a while, Vegeta finally stirred. He rose from the ground with a deep sigh, and with one last glance at the stars above, he headed inside the quiet house, too.