.::SIXTEEN::.
Hot water streaked steadily from the showerhead, pouring over Bulma's hunched form as she sat on the tile floor. She'd pulled her knees tightly to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her head on top of them. Here, in the quiet solitude of her shower, she finally allowed herself to fall apart, to let down the walls she'd kept up all afternoon. With no one around, she didn't have to pretend to be composed or unshaken. And now, her shoulders trembled as silent sobs wracked her body, while her tears mixed with the water cascading down her cheeks.
She had to keep reminding herself that Vegeta was still alive. That he'd survived the blast. But when she'd been out amidst the wreckage, Bulma had thought for one long moment that he was gone. That Vegeta had perished in the explosion, leaving her with only memories and regrets. She had dug frantically through the rubble searching for him, and now her hands were chafed raw, nails broken, legs cut and bruised. As the water ran over her naked body, every scrape and cut stung anew.
Bulma's shoulders quaked as another sob escaped her, echoing off the tile walls. She couldn't suppress it; this overwhelming relief was like a dam breaking, and every tear that fell was one more release of fear and worries that had nearly consumed her earlier. Though the cuts on her body stung, the pain she felt now paled in comparison to how she'd felt while digging through that rubble. But all that mattered was that he was alive and still here.
At least for now.
Bulma's mind wandered to a darker place, to the looming battle against the androids. She could almost hear Piccolo's voice in her mind, conveying the boy's warning from the future about a fate where the androids were too powerful, and the friends she cherished would be lost. But even if somehow everyone survived this time, what would it mean for Vegeta? He'd leave Earth eventually, wouldn't he? Three years at most, and he'd be gone from her life. The thought clawed at her heart, seizing it with a strange ache she didn't want to name. But after what happened today, Bulma realized she wasn't prepared for the idea of life without him.
Then, as she sat there, her mind rolling with thoughts of Vegeta, Bulma decided that once her shower was over, she'd go and check on him to ensure he was stable. But after that, she'd leave him be. She knew she couldn't afford to get too attached to the Saiyan, no matter how much he had burrowed himself into her life. And the more she thought about it, the more she felt Vegeta had been right to keep Bulma at arm's length and refuse to let her get too close. She hated to admit it, but there was logic to his distance; it would make things easier when he finally left. And when the androids do arrive and were defeated, the Saiyan would be gone anyway, right? It was after this way, she thought.
Bulma finally stood and moved through the familiar routine in the shower. She scrubbed her skin and shampooed her hair, detached from reality while her mind wandered elsewhere. Flitting back to Vegeta lying amidst the rubble, blood streaking his bruised skin.
Once she stepped out of the shower, she patted herself dry and examined the cuts and scrapes that lined her hands and legs. Each one stung as she disinfected and bandaged them, but she welcomed the distraction. Afterward, she blow-dried her hair slowly, wanting to buy enough time for Capsule Corp's medical team to assess Vegeta's condition without her hovering.
Once she was dressed, she finally left her room. Bulma was barely out the door when she heard voices coming from the floor above. Taking a deep breath, she headed up the stairs, each step drawing her closer to the sound of conversation. As Bulma reached the top of the stairs, she spotted her father and mother just outside a closed bedroom door, concern etched into their faces as they talked to Kenji, one of Capsule Corps' doctors. Then, having apparently finished his update with her parents, Kenji turned to leave. He caught Bulma's eye briefly, giving her a short nod before descending the stairs.
Bulma's mother clutched a tissue, her eyes red-rimmed and teary. Her father stood beside her, his lips pressed into a tight line, his eyes filled with worry. Bulma's heart clenched, a cold knot forming in her stomach.
"Is he… alive?" Bulma's words came out rough, barely above a whisper.
Her father's face softened as he looked at her. "Oh yes, dear, he's going to pull through," he reassured her, then his gaze drifted back to the door. "It's just not pretty in there."
Bulma caught only the start of her father's words before she hurried into the room. She dropped to her knees beside the bed, wincing as the hard tile dug into her bandaged legs, but she barely noticed the discomfort. Her attention was entirely focused on the Saiyan. Vegeta lay still, the lines of pain completely gone from his face in sleep. Every visible wound had been carefully stitched, and an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. The sight of him both relieved and unsettled her.
She reached out and gently touched the only undamaged part of his shoulder. Then, absentmindedly, she traced small circles over his uninjured skin with her pointer finger, her eyes watching his chest as it rose and fell.
"Is he going to be alright, Daddy?" she whispered without taking her eyes off the Saiyan.
"I think so, sweetheart. He's bruised and battered from head to toe. I'd wager the only thing he hasn't bruised is his eyebrows." Her father chuckled lightly. "If he stays in bed for a good week, he should recover. It's a miracle, really–Saiyans are built like iron. Most wouldn't have survived an accident like that."
Bulma heard her mother sniffle behind her, followed by the soft sound of her blowing her nose. "Poor Vegeta," she murmured, her voice thick with sympathy.
"Come on, dear," her father said, gently guiding her mother toward the door. "Let's leave the two alone."
As her parents exited, Bulma continued staring over the Saiyan lying motionless in the hospital bed. His chest rose and fell with deep, steadying breaths. She wondered how long he'd remain like this. Would he wake within hours? Days? Or even weeks?
A part of her hoped this time of enforced rest would give his battered body a chance to heal before he even considered his relentless training. Satisfied, at least for now, that he would pull through, Bulma quietly stood to leave. She heard a faint rustle behind her when her hand had just closed around the doorknob.
Turning, she saw the sheets shift as Vegeta stirred, his face tightening with some unseen struggle. She turned around and came back over to his bedside. As she stared down at him, his brow furrowed, and his lips parted.
"Kakarot…" His voice was barely a whisper. "I'll… get stronger than you, Kakarot! And then… I'll finally beat you!"
His body tensed, a slight tremble passing through him as if he were having a nightmare. Bulma's chest tightened in worry.
xXx
Vegeta had been running for what felt like an eternity. His legs burned, muscles tightening with each pounding step, yet he didn't stop. His breath was ragged, and sweat poured down his face, dripping from his chin as he kept moving, one foot hammering the ground after the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. He had long since lost any sense of direction; he wasn't sure if he was running toward something or desperately trying to escape.
His heart thundered in his chest, echoing the relentless beat of his feet hitting the ground. No matter what appeared before him–light, smoke, stripes, or shadows within the darkness–he drove himself forward, his mind locked on a single, unbreakable instinct: he had to keep running.
At last, something appeared on the horizon–a figure shadowed against the darkness. Vegeta's heart lept, and with a sudden burst of speed, he closed the distance, his eyes narrowing as the figure came into focus. It was unmistakable. It was his fated rival, Kakarot. He stood with his back to Vegeta, looking over his shoulder with that all-too-familiar easygoing grin plastered across his face.
"KAKAROT!" Vegeta's guttural roar tore through the darkness. "I'm stronger than you!"
With a fierce determination that surged through him, Vegeta leaped high into the air, his entire body coiled like a spring. He aimed his leg forward, preparing to deliver a brutal, finishing kick to Kakrot's back. But just as he was about to make contact, Kakarot vanished. Vegeta's kick met nothing but air, and he stumbled forward, his momentum sending him skidding to a halt.
Panting heavily, his body drenched in sweat that soaked through every fiber of his clothing, Vegeta spun around, frantically searching the shadows. His pulse raced, his senses alert, desperate to locate his opponent.
But when Vegeta turned around again, he froze. His eyes widened, and his breath caught sharply in his throat. Standing there, quiet and composed, was not Kakarot but the boy from the future.
"It's you!" Vegeta snarled, his voice laced with fury. "You're not a Saiyan!"
He hurled himself straight toward the boy with all the force his body could muster, aiming a punch straight for his face. There was no way this kid–this stranger from nowhere–could possibly be one of them. Only he, Kakarot and Kakarot's son shared the Saiyan lineage in this universe. The thought that someone else, a stranger from another timeline, could possess the same power was unthinkable. But Vegeta had seen it. He had witnessed this boy's transformation into a Super Saiyan with his own eyes.
Vegeta's fist sailed toward the boy's cheek, fueled by rage and desperation–but just before it could connect, the figure vanished, fading out of existence as quickly as Kakrot had. Vegeta stumbled, his arm still outstretched, eyes wide with frustration.
And then, as though conjured from his own deepest fears, the boy reappeared before him with Kakarot at his side. They stood together, looking down on Vegeta, their gazes steady and unwavering. Vegeta felt a chill slither down his spine, loathe as he was to admit the faint surge of fear that came with it. His fists clenched, his jaw set as he glared back at the two.
Without warning, the two transformed in unison. Their hair flashed gold, their eyes turned an intense blue, and their energy erupted, flooding the space with a blazing light that seemed to pierce into Vegeta's very core. Their auras radiated with blinding intensity, the golden glow surrounding them so powerful that Vegeta had to shield his face, raising an arm to block the brightness. His heart hammered wildly, a mix of anger and panic swelling inside him.
Cornered, Vegeta's own aura flared to life, sparking around him as he powered up, refusing to be outdone. Squinting through the blinding light, he roared," I am the strongest! I'm the only one with royal blood in my veins!"
Determined, Vegeta gathered every ounce of his strength, surging with energy once more. But the two Super Saiyans before him matched his power effortlessly, their own energy spiking so violently that it sent a shockwave through the air, throwing Vegeta backward.
xXx
Bulma stood beside Vegeta's bedside and watched his body twitch restlessly in his sleep. His brows were drawn tightly together, and a deep frown cut across his face. She worried for him. Whatever haunted him in his dreams wasn't relenting.
He'd kicked off his blanket, and she got a clear view of the jagged stitches that crisscrossed his torso and arms. A fresh pang of sympathy surged within her. She'd known him to take on some brutal battles, but seeing him this vulnerable, stripped of his usual hardened stance, tugged at her in a way she hadn't anticipated.
Moving carefully, Bulma sat on the edge of the bed next to him, her hand reaching for his. His skin was rough beneath her fingertips, and it was then she noticed an IV taped to the back of it. Without thinking, her fingers closed gently around his, and she began to trace slow, soothing circles across his knuckles with her thumb.
His hand gripped hers, and her heart did flip-flops in her chest. She continued rubbing his hand and talking to him gently in a low, calm voice. Gradually, Vegeta's features relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing as his breathing became steady. Bulma let out a soft, relieved sigh, grateful that at least, for now, his nightmare seemed to have quieted.
She reluctantly lets go of Vegeta's hand and carefully tucked the blanket back around him, careful not to hurt his bandaged body. When Bulma had first come up here, it was only to check on his condition, to ensure he was truly okay, and then head back to her room, but seeing him like this, so defenseless, so helpless, broke something in Bulma for reasons she couldn't fully articulate. She found that she didn't want to leave his side and sat at the desk beside his bed.
Without a clock in the room, time seemed to stretch indefinitely as she watched over him, her head eventually resting on her arms. The last thing Bulma remembered was the gentle rise and fall of Vegeta's bruised, bare chest as she drifted off to sleep.
xXx
Vegeta jolted awake, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he took in his surroundings. His heart was racing in his chest, each beat pounding so hard it reverberated in his ears. His entire body was drenched in sweat, as if the remnants of his nightmare had physically seeped through his skin. He could still feel the unsettling remnants of the vision he'd escaped, his father's piercing gaze scrutinizing him with that ever-present, cold disappointment. Even now, awake, it made Vegeta's skin crawl.
Exhaling, he steadied himself, trying to shake off the remnants of that horrid, judging look. As he took in the room, he noticed the mask that had been on his face had fallen off during his thrashing, he assumed. His eyes landed on the IV needle taped to his hand, the steady drip feeding him whatever nourishment. But then he saw her–Bulma–her head resting on her arms, asleep beside him at the desk.
Vegeta's eyes narrowed, his confusion simmering into curiosity. Why was she here? He thought back. The memories that came to him were of the gravity chamber exploding, the searing heat, the pain, and… Bulma. Though his thoughts were still hazy, he distinctly remembered her there in the chaos of the explosion. He recalled her holding him close, talking to him right before the blackness finally took over.
He looked at her now; her hands were almost completely wrapped in bandages, and Vegeta wondered how she'd gotten them. Then, almost immediately after, he asked himself why he'd felt the need to care. He turned away from her and stared out the nearby window.
Vegeta was curious as to why the woman even bothered. He shook his head and closed his eyes as he rested his head on the pillow. Humans and their ridiculous compassion. The beings on this planet exhausted themself over things that didn't matter, over people they should despise or disregard. Yet, for reasons Vegeta couldn't understand, the realization that the blue-haired woman cared enough to stay by his bedside as he'd slept and recovered sparked an odd feeling of comfort he'd never felt before. Not that he'd ever admit it, mind you.
Glancing down, he began to take stock of his injuries, the deep cuts and bruises scattered across his arms and torso now bound in bandages. While his body bore the damage from his intense training, inside, he felt renewed, his strength as fierce as ever. A slight smirk twisted at the corners of his lips.
Slowly, Vegeta swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the cold floor. The woman beside him stirred slightly, but he waited while until she settled back down, and her quiet snores filled the silence of the room once more. Without a second thought, he yanked the IV from his hand, ignoring the sting. He slipped silently from the room with one last look at the woman.
There was only one thing he craved now– training until he could no longer stand.
xXx
Bulma awoke, finding herself slumped over the desk, cheek pressed against a sticky puddle of her own drool. Her neck throbbed from the awkward position she'd fallen asleep in, and she let out a groggy yawn as she straightened up, stretching her arms and massaging the tender spot near her shoulder. Halfway through the stretch, she froze.
Vegeta was gone.
Without a second thought, she shot to her feet, rushing out of the room before her mind had time to process. She barely remembered reaching the first floor, her legs moving on instinct until she caught sight of the backyard.
When she ran out onto the back porch, Bulma's steps came to an abrupt halt. She blinked, her gaze locked on the brand-new gravity chamber gleaming in the evening light. The scars from the earlier explosion were barely visible—only faint scorch marks marred the grass, with scattered patches of blackened earth hinting at the recent disaster.
Bulma felt her pulse quicken, a spark of fury igniting in her chest as the chamber emitted a steady hum—the unmistakable sound that Vegeta was inside. Her fingers curled into fists as she stared at the new machine. Rage simmered within her as she imagined Vegeta inside, hurting himself even more. She wanted to scream!
She spun on her heel and stormed down the hallway making her way to the lab. She wanted answers–no, she demanded answers! Who on Earth had thought it brilliant to set up yet another gravity chamber for Vegeta already?
As she pushed through the double doors and walked into the lab, the once busy hallway fell into a sudden, tense silence. Engineers, assistants, and interns who'd been working diligently or chatting among themselves turned to look at her, eyes widening at her stern expression.
"Alright, who did it?" Her voice cut through the silence. "Who set up another gravity chamber for the Saiyan?"
They exchanged uneasy glances until, finally, a young intern cleared his throat and said nervously, "It was your dad, ma'am."
"Thank you."
Then, without another word to anyone, she marched straight to her father's office. She didn't bother knocking; she just swung open the door, meeting her father's surprised expression. He was smiling, but his smile faltered as he took in her fierce glare.
"Why did you set up another chamber?" she demanded, hands on her hips, voice laced with frustration. "The last one exploded barely six hours ago, Dad! And do you know where Vegeta is now? He's in that brand-new chamber as if nothing happened!"
The ever-calm and unbothered Dr. Brief closed the file in his hand and leaned forward, clasping his fingers together thoughtfully.
"Well," he said, the slightest hint of amusement playing in his eyes. "It might have something to do with him threatening to kill half my staff if we didn't get him another chamber up and running."
Bulma's fury ebbed.
"He's a Saiyan, Bulma. Training is practically in his DNA," her father replied, glancing back at his notes on the desk with a casual wave of his hand. "He's going to push himself whether he's in perfect shape or on the brink of collapse."
Bulma huffed and folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Yeah, well, he needs to rest at some point, even if it's not in his nature!"
Dr. Brief let out a soft sigh and nodded in agreement.
"That he does," he said, though her dad didn't sound too optimistic.
Just then, a thought flickered to life in Bulma's mind, and she raised an eyebrow inquiringly.
"Please tell me that this new gravity chamber doesn't go higher than the last one?"
Her father paused, looking up at her from his notes. He offered a casual half-shrug.
"Actually, yes. It was one I'd been tinkering with for a while. The new chamber can handle up to 500 times Earth's normal gravity."
"500!" Bulma's eyes widened in disbelief, the number almost absurd to consider.
Her father chuckled. "The boy wanted higher, if you can believe it."
Bulma felt a pang of frustration. "He's probably cranked it all the way up already! He doesn't even know what pacing himself means!"
Her father chuckled, shaking his head.
Bulma barely waited for the door to shut behind her as she rushed out of her father's office and down the hall to her own. She sat behind her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard as she pulled up the security feed to the new gravity chamber. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Vegeta on the screen–shirtless and bandaged, balancing with one hand behind his back as he did push-ups under an intense gravitational pull. The computer in the center of the room read 450gs. Her blood boiled.
She hit the intercom button. "Vegeta! Stop it! You're in no condition to be pushing yourself like this!"
He continued, ignoring her entirely, as if her voice was nothing but background noise. Bulma's brow furrowed. He was SO stubborn!
"Listen," she said, voice firm. "I know you don't want to admit it, but you are made of flesh and blood, Vegeta! You need to rest and let yourself heal!"
She saw his brow twitch, and with an irritated sigh, he stopped push-up and shot her projection an annoyed frown.
"Stop nagging me, woman," he said. "Just leave me alone!"
His tone was cold, but even through the screen, she could see the strain in his eyes and the slight tremor in his body. He tried to maintain his balance, but his arm faltered, and he tumbled toward the ground, barely catching himself on his elbows before he hit the chamber floor. A low grunt escaped him as he struggled to push himself back up.
Seeing him like this, hurt and still forcing himself to push harder, made her chest tighten. She softened for a moment but steeled herself, knowing he'd only listen if she appealed to his pride.
"You know I'm right," she called, eyes locked on him through the screen. "So why don't you just keep quiet and follow my advice for once?
She waited, noting the scowl that deepened on his face. Bulma smirked.
"Oh, nothing to say now, huh? Perfect!" she leaned back and crossed her arms. "Then go back to bed and get some actual rest!"
When he didn't speak, Bulma reached to close the connection, but as her hand touched the mouse, a strained grunt from Vegeta stopped her.
"Wait… Not yet! I do have something to say."
Surprised, Bulma leaned closer to her computer screen, her curiosity piqued. She studied his hardened expression through the screen, his face etched with exhaustion and defiance.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice softening despite herself. "Or maybe you're finally going to apologize to me for being such a stubborn idiot. If that's the case, let's hear it!
But Vegeta's face twisted with irritation. His hands pressed into the floor as he gathered his strength and stared straight at her.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" he yelled, his voice rough.
The words hit her like a blow, and her heart clenched at the sight of him. She clicked off the monitor, breaking the connection.