Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dancing ❯ Part three ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Dancing

 

Part Three

 

Disclaimer: This is a product of my overactive imagination and my all-powerful obsession with DBZ. It doesn't make DBZ mine.

 

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Five years had passed since Vegeta first started training his daughter in the ancient martial art of Hyori. During that time he had become more and more astounded with the capabilities and passion Bra held for his teachings. Indeed, she was fulfilling all his expectations and more. At the age of twelve she was far beyond what many humans would accomplish in a whole lifetime of training. He was, however, becoming increasingly worried about the amount of time and dedication she would be able to give to it in the up-coming months and years ahead.

 

A lot had changed domestically since he had first started taking her under his wing, as he now felt, was his right to do so. A year ago Trunks had assumed complete responsibility of Capsule Corporation, Bulma was now in semi-retirement, and Bra herself was entering a stage of her education that was vital for her future success. His daughter was, he freely admitted, just as gifted as his son, and would probably excel in anything she put her mind to. This was given some weight by the advances she was making in her schoolwork. She might well be on the fringes of her teenage years, but she was already studying with children three years her senior.

 

Bulma had informed him a few weeks back that Bra's high school exams were, in fact, only a year down the road, and afterwards she would be looking at college. He couldn't believe it. College at thirteen! He knew it wasn't unprecedented. Bulma had been a child prodigy as well and had walked the same course as their daughter several decades prior, but it was becoming increasingly clear to him that Bra's commitments to outside activities would be affected by the step up. She was still dancing, and a month ago had opened as the star performer at the Royal theatre in Western Capitol City. She had already cut her lessons with him down to a manageable three days a week, and he could only see more cuts to come.

 

With Trunks' new work status overtaking his training, Vegeta had put more and more attention on Bra, asking more from her than she was probably capable of. She never said anything to discourage him, but however much he didn't want to face the reality, it could not blind him to her general fatigue. She always looked tired, and her technique and accuracy were suffering as a result. He was on the verge of bringing the subject to the fore, even though he wanted nothing more than to carry on teaching her. He'd thought about it constantly for the last two weeks, and even though there had been ample time and opportunity to bring it up within that time, he had never quite managed to find the will inside himself to complete the task. Besides, there was always something more pressing to be dealt with regarding his daughter recently. Much to his chagrin, something was bothering his daughter, and he hadn't been the one to spot it - Bulma had. To his proud and fatherly eyes this was new corroboration that his daughter was starting to grow up and away from him.

 

Confrontation of another nature was upon them, however, and this time it would be harder to combat than previous times. This time their daughter was sharper, older, and - thanks to her training - ten times more adept at escaping from them both physically and mentally. Cold hard questions would be denied, babying the subject would be condemned, and skirting it would be evaded altogether. No. There was only one way to get to the bottom of this little conundrum, and Vegeta was actually looking forward to the latest mission his wife had concocted. It was getting harder, but nothing would be kept from them. When they worked as a team they were, quite frankly, unstoppable.

 

He casually strolled into the kitchen at the precise minute Bulma had arranged the previous night. He didn't linger outside until it was time - that would give the game away - but they had simply calculated the moment to fit in with his normal strict morning routine. Bulma had timed her questions to the second, and so having come straight from the shower, still drying his hair, and in nothing but his pyjama trousers he walked anonymously to the cupboards to select his cereal, just as he did every morning.

 

It was imperative that he didn't appear to be listening to the conversation, because he never normally let himself get involved in these discussions if he could avoid it. As he leaned against the worktops, shovelling down his breakfast, and watching the news on the kitchen television, no one, not even those closest to him, would have suspected that the only thing he was concentrating on were his wife and daughter.

 

"So how are you finding your new class?" Bulma asked, so casually that Vegeta would have had a hard time realizing it was rehearsed. That was, of course, if his wife hadn't kept him up all night by reciting what she was going to say over and over again.

 

"S'okay."

 

"I know it's not the same as the last school, but private education isn't always what it's cracked up to be. Believe me, you want to be around people who actually know what it's like to live a little."

 

Bra sighed, something she didn't do very often. "If you say so."

 

"Did Mr. Pick settle you in okay? He seemed like a nice man at the interview, but a little easily distracted. I'll need to speak to the head about that."

 

"It was fine," Bra muttered around her toast. "What's with all the questions?"

 

So far so good!

 

Vegeta shifted positions and laid his bowl on the surface. Bra had been honest so far. There were no fluctuations in her heart rate, no hint of a lie on her tongue, and no physical response that would cause alarm.

 

"I just want to make sure you're settling in okay."

 

"Well, there's no need to worry, Mum. Everything's fine - everyone's been very friendly."

 

Vegeta's lips pursed together a fraction of a moment, before he cleared the emotion. Now they were getting somewhere! That was a definite lie. Her pulse had increased, and her body temperature risen a couple of degrees.

 

"So have you made any new friends yet?"

 

"Not really. I'm still the new girl. A couple of people have spoken to me, but they're all older than me, so I guess it's going to take a while for them to get used to having me in their class."

 

He relaxed once again. Not only had she been eloquent in her reply, but truthful as well. He wondered why she felt compelled to lie before. The news finished, and he moved on to the next phase of his morning routine, a slight smile adorning his usually blank features. Family problems or no, this was always his favourite part of the day. He opened the fridge door and perused the contents. "Woman!" he snapped, just as his wife was about to speak again.

 

"Whatever it is Vegeta," she dismissed, "it can wait. I'm talking to Bra!"

 

"Does this look like a face of concern? Where's the damn orange juice?"

 

"I don't know and could care even less. Now, Bra---"

 

"Woman," he snapped again, trying to look angry when really he was laughing inside. This was a routine they needed no rehearsal for. It was akin to foreplay and had been practiced on a daily basis for longer than either would probably care to admit. "I will not have you ignore me!"

 

Bulma spun angrily on her chair, got up and stalked over to him. "For the love of god, Vegeta! How many times do I have to tell you, if you want cold orange in the morning, then take your cute little arse over to the pantry and get a fresh carton out before you go to bed. It's not my purpose on this earth to pander to your every little whim!"

 

Vegeta almost laughed out loud. 'Cute little arse?' She really was going for broke wasn't she? "No part," he iterated," and I mean absolutely no part of me is 'cute' Bulma. Now get me the damn juice!"

 

"No!"

 

"Now!"

 

"I said 'no!'"

 

"Um, Mum - Dad?  Maybe it would be best if I left."

 

"Stay where you are," Bulma snapped. "I haven't finished talking to you yet."

 

"And I said 'now!'" Vegeta bellowed, ignoring the interruption.

 

"Really," Bra stuttered. "I'll just---"

 

"Sit!" they shouted in unison.

 

Bra - Vegeta was pleased to see - did exactly as she was told. Bulma must have guessed this, and the argument was almost instantly put to rest. She brushed passed him and on towards the open fridge. Once there she rolled her eyes and let out a string of profanities.

 

"What?" he demanded.

 

She stepped around, a nearly full jug of orange juice in her hands, and shoved it angrily into his chest. She snorted. "How is it that you can see an enemy a mile away without even turning around and yet you can't see a jug of juice just because it's behind a few vegetables?  Smooth, Vegeta, way to impress! Anything else you want me to do? Brush your teeth? Hold you while you go…?"

 

"Drop dead?" he offered.

 

"Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta…." She winked. "If I did that who would be here to make your life a daily living hell?"  She half lidded her eyes and spoke huskily. "And don't even pretend that you don't want that."

 

Even though he knew Bulma was turning up the performance for their daughter's benefit, Vegeta shivered as she ran a tongue along her bottom lip. She might well be in her fifties now, but dammit if she wasn't still the same little sexy woman he'd been hopeless against for the last twenty-five years. Later - later she would pay for it. 

 

Outwardly he merely slumped against the worktop and slowly downed the entire jug, all the while being careful to look as pissed off, and menacing as he would do under normal circumstances. Bulma also sat down, turning her back haughtily on him, and resumed her conversation with Bra.

 

"Sorry about that," she apologized.

 

Bra shrugged. "Dad will be Dad."

 

"Anyway," Bulma continued. "We were talking about your new class."

 

Bra shifted uncomfortably and checked her watch. "Mum, I'm going to be late.  Can't this wait?"

 

"Okay, just one more question, then I'm done." Vegeta opened the dishwasher and put his jug in. This was the one, the key to solving the riddle. "Are you happy there?  Do you feel comfortable with all the older kids?"

 

"Yes," she answered curtly. "Can I go now?"

 

Bulma sighed, the ruse completed. "Fine - just know that you can tell me anything. If you ever feel like you're not fitting in, then all you have to do is say the word and we'll find a different way for you to finish high school."

 

"Will do," she answered, picking up her backpack and practically running to the door.

 

"Have a nice day," Bulma called after her, but Bra was long gone. Keeping up the act for a little longer Bulma sat at the table, only moving when she heard the front door slam shut. Then she turned to Vegeta. With one curt nod he signalled to her that Bra's energy signature was far enough away for them to talk without fear of being overheard.

 

Picking up her breakfast bowl and placing it in the dishwasher next to Vegeta, Bulma locked her blue eyes on him. "Well?" she asked.

 

"She lied three times," he said simply. "Not everyone has been friendly to her, she doesn't feel comfortable in her new class, and for some reason she's not prepared to tell you about it."

 

Bulma's shoulders sagged. "Then I was right."

 

He frowned. "So it appears. The question is - what are you going to do about it?"

 

She smiled, an unnerving gesture when completed with a wicked glint and a smile. "You mean what are we going to do about it."

 

He growled low in the throat. "Oh no, Woman! I have done my part. You're on your own."

 

"Vegeta!" She scowled. "We had a deal, remember. Follow her."

 

"I can't do that, Bulma, she will sense me a mile off."

 

"Oh please!" she snapped. "Don't give me that bullshit. I know you better than anyone, if you want to stay hidden, you will find a way to do it. How many times have you sneaked off to Son-Kun's to secretly watch him train? Now don't tell me that Bra can sense energy as well as Goku can, 'cause I know differently."

 

Bulma was right of course. If he wanted to follow Bra anonymously then he would have no problem in doing so. He just wasn't sure he wanted to. He knew, without anyone telling him, that he was bad at the day-to-day trivialities of fatherhood. It wasn't so much that it was beneath his notice, more that he didn't feel comfortable in the role, and was eminently bad at fitting his emotions to the situation. He was worried, worried that whatever was causing Bra to lie to her mother, would be a situation that would anger him. He had a hard enough time controlling himself around his own family, let alone with a third party.

 

"I know you are right, Bulma, but I can't…."

 

"Can't what?"

 

"I can't promise you that I can control my temper should there be extenuating circumstances."

 

She lifted a hand to his face and affectionately rubbed his cheek with her thumb. "I know, Vegeta, but there's no other way. You're the only one capable of watching her without being noticed."

 

"Trunks?" he offered.

 

"No," she replied firmly. "Trunks isn't anymore detached than you are, and younger as well. Besides it isn't his place. As her parents, it's our responsibility."

 

"Fine!" he snapped, having heard enough. She was making excuses. For some reason she wanted him to go and no one else. He just wished he knew why. "I will do as you ask. I just hope we don't both have cause to regret it."

 

An hour and a change of clothes later and Vegeta was flying over West Capitol, scouting the area and finding the best possible place to mount his attack, so to speak. Her school was less than three blocks from the Capsule Corporations new offices on the east side, where Trunks was currently hard at work. He had chosen his flight path carefully. If he went flying idly over the city he knew Bra would sense him and become suspicious, but he occasionally took time out from his daily routine to check up on his son and make sure he wasn't trying to skive off work. He figured that if he followed the same course as usual he would be able to get an aerial assessment of the school grounds and layout before masking his ki and setting up a base on foot. In effect, it would kill two birds with one stone. He could make sure Trunks was performing his duties as he ought and do as his wife had asked him all in one fell swoop.

 

He touched down outside the offices just in time to see his son look nervously out of the window, having probably already sensed his ki. He saluted up, and Trunks' face went a shade lighter, before turning back into the office and away from his view. Then, as calmly as he could he let his ki evaporate into nothing. With one more glance back up to the window to make sure he was safe he turned heel and walked quickly and purposefully to the building he had handpicked. It was in the perfect position to overlook the school grounds. Bulma had informed him before he left that this was the prime target. If there were problems then she had said that this would probably be the place they manifested, when the children were free to roam as they wanted, with fewer teachers present and more space to escape notice.

 

Reaching the building he was pleased to see the fire escape at the side, which would allow him access to the roof without raising suspicion. It was scaled quickly and silently.

 

Two hours later and Vegeta was getting impatient. He had seen no sign of Bra, and he was on the verge of leaving when he heard a bell ring in the distance and saw a long train of pupils streaming outside, each forming little pockets of friendship and eating their lunches at various positions around the vast grounds.

 

Much to Vegeta's continued annoyance at the situation, Bra was one of the last ones out. He picked up on her position almost instantly and was slightly surprised to see that rather than breaking off into one of the other groups, she made her lonely way to the base of a tree at the furthest proximity to her fellow classmates. She set her lunch on her lap and stated eating, but there was something wrong. She didn't look comfortable, constantly looking up as though she were expecting something to jump out at her.

 

He quickly realized why. There was a group advancing on her. At first he thought they were her new friends, trying to get to know her better, but when he honed his senses on them to listen in, he was surprised at what he heard.

 

One of the girls had thrown an arm around her in what appeared a friendly gesture, but her words conveyed a very different meaning. "Well, hello there, newbie!" she crooned. "What ya doing all the way over here on your own?"

 

"Eating." Vegeta was instantly concerned. Was this the same confident child he saw at home? She was nervous, shaking, and completely scared by the presence of this older girl.

 

"Not any more," the girl giggled, and proceeded to tip the entire contents of Bra's lunchbox over the grass.

 

Bra seemed to protest and tried to salvage her lunch, only for one of the other members of the group to break away and squash the sandwiches and crisps into the ground.

 

"But…"

 

"What's the matter 'underwear girl'? Little rich kid gonna miss her lunch? Poor diddums!"

 

"Hey there, Heather," another girl added. "Mummy will fix everything for her - after all, she's nothing more than a baby, aren't you, Knickers?"

 

"My name," she mumbled, "is Bra."

 

"Like we care!" Heather snorted. "What did you bring us?"

 

Bra's eyes were suddenly wide with panic. "I couldn't get away this morning. Mum was questioning me, and Dad was there too, I couldn't…."

 

The friendly smile and gesture on Heather's face was instantly lost. "We had a deal, kid. If you got us what we wanted, then we'd keep your little secret to ourselves."

 

Vegeta's face felt like it was going to shatter under the strain of restraining his anger. Blackmail. This little bitch was blackmailing HIS daughter! If he had it his way then heads were going to roll! The million-zeni question was why? What was this 'secret' the girl was referring to?  It was the only thing that was keeping him from rushing out and giving the little witch a lesson she would never forget.

 

"No! Please! Anything but that… I'll get it for you tomorrow I promise."

 

"And the other part of our deal?"

 

Bra sighed and looked incredibly nervous, but she reached inside her pocket anyway, and gave the girl a small scrap of paper. "Is this home, work or personal?" the girl asked, vainly primping her hair and looking like the cat that got the cream.

 

"Personal, just like you asked."

 

Heather smiled in victory. "Excellent! Lucky for you, you have such a hot and rich brother, you just bought yourself another day, but," she added quickly, "make no mistake--- if you haven't got what I want by tomorrow, then cell number or not, I will tell."

 

Bra pulled her legs in tight to her chest. "Don't worry. I'll get it."

 

Heather stood and patted her tauntingly on the head. "Good girl." She then walked away, but Vegeta couldn't care less. His sole attention was focused on Bra. He had half the mystery solved. Obviously getting Trunks' personal number was part of this bitches plan, he just wondered what the other was, and what secret Bra was so scared of being told that she would willing subject herself to the bullying and do as they asked.

 

He waited in heightened agitation for over an hour, hoping there might be another conversation that would shed more light on the situation, but nothing else happened. Bra stayed exactly where she was, only scooping up what she could save of her lunch until the bell rang again and she was called back into class.

 

There was nothing else to learn, and after struggling with his anger, he knew there would be no outlet for it. In a foul mood, he leapt off the building, landed into a crouch, and made his way back home.

 

Bulma met him as soon as he stepped in through the front door. "How'd it go?" she asked, taking a step back. Obviously he wasn't holding his anger back well enough. "You look like you want to kill something!"

 

"Not something," he barked. "Someone. Some of the bitches in her class are blackmailing her, although it seems to be more the work of a ringleader than the others."

 

Bulma gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Blackmail? How… what do they want?"

 

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I plan to find out. What time does she usually get back?"

 

"About four," Bulma replied. "What are you going to do?"

 

"Right now I'm going to train. I need a way to release my anger, and think this over calmly. Then when she returns I plan to follow her and solve this little mystery once and for all."   

 

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A/N - This idea just popped into my head as I was listening to a conversation between two parents on the way to pick my kids up from school and I couldn't wait to get back and write it down. I hope it works.

 

As always - super hugs and thanks to LisaB for beta-ing this chapter for me.