Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Sheep and the Hedgehog ❯ Stop Telling Me What to Do! ( Chapter 12 )

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

Stop Telling Me What to Do!

Two days elapsed since Vegeta was gone. Because of the chaos that recently had come in this same space of time, Bulma almost wished she could run off like he had done… if she wasnÂ´t so hurt and concerned. Hurt because that damned cloth had taken her almost two weeks to develop and caused dark circles under her eyes. After all the trouble he had just left without even a word. She didnÂ´t expect exactly a thank you very much from him, but damn it, after so much innuendos and double-sensed talking it didn't take a genius to notice that Vegeta had a bit of interest in her. (Changed the figures of speech a bit here) The young scientist had expected that Vegeta… well, that he at least he `paid' for the favor as he had promised. But no, as soon as he had found himself dressed and done with her, he had promptly ran off to fight Goku once more. How typical of men… Yamcha was just the same, always leaving her for a baseball game, a training, or an adventure. Women are always left for a backup plan, when not put last. (Backup plan instead of second plan here) No wonder that Chichi was so attached to her son; like most women unhappy with marriage, she probably should do that to compensate GokuÂ´s negligence.

It was the whole thing about Goku that was the cause of her concern. Several hours later, after VegetaÂ´s hasty departure, Bulma had made a call to the Sons. Chichi had confirmed that yes, he had been there.The brunetteÂ´s voice still trembled in fear and anger as she related the details of how that `devil' had threatened to kill Gohan and herself, and the state Goku had come home in, all injured and dirty, without explaining a word. She hoped now that Bulma had sense enough to see her mistake in sheltering such a monster and…

At this point, Bulma hung up, with a mixture of relief and worry. Apparently, Vegeta had lost again. Anyway, it was almost impossible for him to win; but, if some miracle made that happen, heÂ´d more than likely would have killed Goku. That simple possibility made BulmaÂ´s heart sink. If that transpired, she couldnÂ´t allow the killer of her dearest friend to continue living in her home. She almost could feel the accusing eyes of the rest of her friends turned upon to her. Still…

She let out a heavy sigh. The truth was that even if she was aware of what Vegeta would do if he turned Super Saiyan, she hoped truly that he achieved it. It wasnÂ´t fair that he got so worked up and had suffered so much for nothing. This possible second defeat probably would break him irreparably.

Enough thinking about this, Bulma, she scolded herself. VegetaÂ´s an adult, itÂ´s time for him to start behaving like one. HeÂ´d probably scorn me if he learned how much IÂ´m worried… he would say thatÂ´s not ofmy concern, and he would be right. I must worry about myself. If I only could have some peace… she continued, startling at the sound of footsteps going up the staircase that led to the rooftop. Shit. She had been caught.

With the battle outfit project out of the way, Bulma had expected to spend the rest of the week resting. However, she had forgotten completely that it was just a few days before her birthday… and the eventual chaos that always caused. Every year it was the same hell.

Bulma adored parties but her birthday was one exception. Perhaps because she was already going past thirty, or - especially for that reason - the party always had been more of her parents doing than exactly hers. At the party celebrating her twelveth birthday, she had to argue fiercely for hours to convince them to no longer request clowns and magicians, for to her fatherÂ´s disappointment. And her mother almost drove her crazy by tossing every magazine and catalogue of parties decoration under BulmaÂ´s nose. The blue-haired woman had make up her mind at least a thousand of times until she made her definitive choice. Then, her mother changed everything in the last minute for the decoration style that she liked most. And when her daughter protested, the ditzy blonde just shrugged innocently and said ` why, dearest, you never know what you really want, so I thought that would look good.'

Not to mention the guests. Of course, Bulma always invited her friends, but only a few came - the rest was always training or having adventures somewhere in the other far corners of the world. On the other hand, her parents always invited all their workers and their friends, most of them people that had nothing to do with Bulma and that she would prefer never see. Like her fatherÂ´s shareholders, those puffed peacocks always looked at everything down their noses - especially Bulma, their cold eyes clearly saying that she was completely unsuitable to be at the head of the Capsule Corporation. Worse than that were those who were only her motherÂ´s friends, that spent the whole time chattering about how wonderful their own daughters were and the perfect men these girls had married, and asked WHY Bulma was still single. `Time is running, my dear. YouÂ´re not going to remain beautiful forever, my dear.' They always said.

Just one year ago, Mrs. Briefs had invited without BulmaÂ´s knowledge, one of the young womanÂ´s former colleagues at their high school. It was a disaster, because the boy had spent the whole time trying to show the blue-haired girl how much he had succeeded in life and the mistake she had made by refusing to date him when they were younger. Yamcha literally sent him to the hospital.

It was he that helped Bulma to cope with the stress of her birthdays. He always gave her roses (invariably red ones) and a box of chocolates or even jewelry he could afford, then found a way to run off before the party ended and took her out for a movie or to any of their favorite places. It was always like this, save when he was training out in the wilds. Yet now she missed his good humor in situations like those. It was the first time she actually missed him, and that just confirmed BulmaÂ´s suspicions that her feelings for him never had went beyond a mere friendship, which didnÂ´t lighten her mood in any way now.

After hours of endless torture, the scientist finally sought refugee at the top of the house, with a pile of magazines and a piece of chocolate cake. She should have known better.

“Bulma, dearest!” her motherÂ´s voice chidded happily through the door, even though she was heaving for having climbed all those floors of stairs. “Finally I found you. What are you doing up here, so far from your little lab and your room? I looked through the entire house after you. I thought you were out.”

“That was exactly my plan,” Bulma growled through clenched teeth, even knowing it would be useless. Her mother was completely immune to sarcasms, innuendos and unable to fathom the need of people to have some time alone for themselves.

”I wonder where did you get this bad humor from,” the blonde shook her head in disapproval, then her face lightened again. “But thatÂ´ll make you happier. I think theyÂ´re simple perfect. Here, look!” she bubbled as she tucked a big catalogue of decoration over the magazine at BulmaÂ´s lap.

“Why do you always ask my opinion?” she said wearily, pushing the catalogue aside. “You change your mind the whole time, and end up choosing for YOURSELF the decoration you like most.”

“Honestly, Bulma, if I hadnÂ´t suffered the pains of your birth personally, I could suspect that youÂ´re not my child, “ a very unusual frown appeared on the older womanÂ´s face. “ItÂ´s your birthday, youÂ´re SUPPOSED to be happy! Your face will only wrinkle prematurely, the way youÂ´re killing yourself from working. I know that youÂ´re upset because Vegeta hasnÂ´t thanked you for the new clothes after you had all that trouble…”

”IÂ´M NOT UPSET!!!!”

”…but you know how shy he is. IÂ´m sure that deep down heÂ´s very grateful to you, just give him some time…”

“I think that one will serve well,” Bulma said as she pointed resignedly one of the pictures at random, since it was the only way to change the subject. Then something occurred to her and she raised a thoughtful eyebrow, “ Did you rush up all these floors just because of this, or is there something else that I must decide upon?”

“Oh, now that you mentioned it,” Mrs. Briefs chatted. “I almost forgot. Your father and I felt that you perhaps would like to make the guest list by yourself, since youÂ´ve gotten so upset because of that former colleague of yours that came to your party last year… Such a handsome boy, who could guess he would behave so rudely?” she added with a slight frown, as if it was impossible that pretty boys would have bad manners.

Bulma jumped to her feet, in gleeful disbelief. Hallellujah! Maybe this year the whole ordeal would be enjoyable, after all.

“ThatÂ´s great! Then letÂ´s do something more private, this time. Only my friends, no shareholders, workers or our neighbors talking how wonderful their daughters are.”

”Why, Bulma,” Mrs. Briefs protested soflty. “You shouldnÂ´t take to heart everything other people say! The poor little women just do that because they canÂ´t confirm that my daughter has a brilliant career, while their daughters gave up on college to take care of their stupid husbands. And they know you since you were little, youÂ´ll hurt them if you wonÂ´t inv…”

”HEY… IS THIS MY BHIRTDAY PARTY OR YOURS?”

****

Bulma decided to invite her friends personally. This way, she would also get some fresh air to clear her mind. As she drove her aircar over the calm sea, she inhaled deeply the salty air, feeling the wind ruffle through her hair and savoring her temporary freedom.

The first members on her list were the residents of KameÂ´s House. True that Kameroshi and Oolong invariably got drunk and came onto the female guests, but, as Krillin has said, if you want friends you have to accept them the way they are. And at least Bulma knew she could count on them, if the rest of her friends didnÂ´t came, as almost always had happened before.

Kameroshi was dozing on a beach chair outside the house, a porn magazine covering his face. He woke up with a start at the sound of the incoming aircar, and straitghened up, raising his dark glasses to his eyes. When the old man saw the familiar, beautiful figure jumping out of the cair, his wrinkled face opened into a smile.

”Hello, Bulma! ItÂ´s good to see you again. I was just happening to have a dream with you…”

”Spare me,” she said with a grimace as she stepped out of the car and turned it back into a capsule. “Are Krillin and Oolong in there?”

”No, theyÂ´re out shopping for groceries. Why?”

”Well, I had something to talk to…” she suddenly realized something amiss and glanced around. “Where is the turtle?”

”HeÂ´s making a long trip with some friends, and wonÂ´t come back till next year. This is the first day of true peace I have had in ten years,” The old man sighed blissfully.

Bulma forced a smile. She had really thought that the place was too quiet.

“Well, then itÂ´s better to go to not disturb your rest. IÂ´ll come back later, bye!” she took a step forward, but Kameroshi quickly stopped her.

“Hey, I wasnÂ´t referring to you. You and your boobs….err, and your beauty are always welcome here.” Snatching her arm, he gently led her to the nearby vacant chair. “Here, sit for a while as I go to get you something cool to drink.” Saying these words, he ran inside the house before the young woman could protest.

Bulma never had been completely, absolutely alone with Mutenroshi before since they had first met. The old fighting master was a long-life friend of hers, and -deep down inside - a good person, but he was also a hopeless pervert. What would he do without Goku, Yamcha, Krillin or even the Turtle Â´s presence to restrain his instincts?

Maybe it was better for her to leave before he came back. Too late because he was already returning with a glass of orange juice and a can of beer carried on a small plastic tray.

“Here, this is a very tasty juice,” he said, handing the glass to Bulma, and taking the opportunity to get a good glimpse of her cleavage. “Hmm, nice dress. Never had seen you wearing it before.”

”And youÂ´ll never see me wearing it again!” she snapped snatching the glass from his hand and pushing the old man backwards. Damn it! With all her clothes, she had toagain wear that blasted cherry colored dress. As soon as she arrived back home, she would donate it for charity.

“IÂ´m sorry I havenÂ´t invited you in,” Mutenroshi said as he brought out another chair and sat it in front of her. “But you know how messy the house of a single man is...Krillin and I do our best to keep it in order, but weÂ´re not like Lunch. She was a great housekeeper as long as she didnÂ´t sneeze.”

Bulma paused with her glass mid way to her mouth.

”ThatÂ´s nonsense,” she said gently. “I have come here lots of times since Lunch left and your house is always immaculate.”

”ItÂ´s very kind of you. The point is that… weÂ´re lacking a womanÂ´s touch here. Especially after Krillin broke up with Marron, that wonderful girl… she looked a lot like you, for that matter,” the old man sighed with nostalgia.

Bulma didnÂ´t like that comment, especially because MarronÂ´s brains left a great deal to be desired. Oblivious to her irritation, Mutenroshi carried on.

“…And I imagine how much lonely it must be for you, to live in that huge house, only with workers for company… ArenÂ´t you going to drink your juice?”

The afore-mentioned juice trembled slightly, at the hand of the woman that had forgotten it completely.

“IÂ´m not lonely!” She snapped out, putting the glass on a small table between them. “I live with my parents, and my friends come to visit me frequently.”

Kameroshi smiled and dragged his chair a little closer to her.

“Why, living with your parents is not the same than having your own family,” he insisted. “A woman is not complete without a man, especially without caring company to spend a life together…”

Immediately, Bulma leapt to her feet and stepped towards him, so fast that Roshi retreated and fell onto his back, spilling beer on his shirt. His chair turned over and covered him like the turtle shells he didnÂ´t wear anymore.

“I CANÂ´T BELIEVE THIS!! EVEN YOU ARE PESTERING ME WITH THAT? NOBODY HAS ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN TELLING ME WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE?!!”

Completely caught off-guard, the old master only could shrink under his chair, completely confused about such a violent reaction. When he gathered enough courage to peek under his improvised shell, Bulma was already tossing a capsule down and jumping back into her aircar. She didnÂ´t even gave him a second look.

“I just remembered I have an appointment. See you later,” the young woman said hurriedly as she slammed the door to her car and took off. At her rush way, she almost literally ran onto MutenroshiÂ´s vehicle, that was bringing back Krillin and Oolong.

The pig and the monk found the old master crawling out from under his chair, smelling like beer. An angry frown was wrinkling his face a little more than usual.

“What was Bulma doing here?” Krillin asked as they stepped out of the car.

“I donÂ´t know,” Roshi growled as he shook sand off his clothes. ”She wanted to talk to you, but I think she changed her mind.”

“Ill-mannered like always,” bristled Oolong. “She could at least waited a bit to say hello to us.”

“What have YOU done to make her run off like that?” Krillin demanded in an accusing tone to his master.

“Nothing! I havenÂ´t done anything to her!” the old man growled furiously. Damn it. This looked like the perfect opportunity for him to test a lust potion he had stolen from his sister Uranai a few years ago. He always had dreamed of testing its effects, but then Lunch had already gone, and he never could be completely alone with Bulma or Marron. (testing sounds better with effects then trying) So he had slipped a few drops into the juice. Now that his erotic dreams finally seemed they would come true, that crazy woman had inexplicably one of her tantrums and left him without the precious potion wasted. Even if she had drunk the juice, however, Krillin and Oolong would have come by next and caught them. What had once seemed to be RoshiÂ´s lucky day had turned into one with very bad luck.

Indifferent to the argument between master and disciple, Oolong spotted the untouched juice glass at the table between the two chairs. Miraculously, it hadnÂ´t tipped over and spilled with BulmaÂ´s explosion. The little pig caught the glass and smelled it.

“Hmm, whatÂ´s that? Oh, great its orange juice…” he opened his mouth and took raised the glass to his lips. Kameroshi whipped around, and his eyes bulged behind his dark glasses.

“NOO! DONÂ´T DRINK THAT!!!! “ he jumped and frantically waved his arms towards his friend.

Too late.