Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Doubts ❯ The Mischief Makers ( Chapter 5 )

Doubts: Chapter 5

High up on the second floor of the C.C. mansion, contained furthermore within a world of pink, pastel colors and fluffy stuffed animals, Pan was undergoing the customary torture that ensued whenever she visited Bra.

Bra held up the slender, plasticized version of a woman with far too much blonde hair for her own good. With pride shining gleefully within the depths of her aqua blue orbs, she announced, "This is gonna be me. I'll get your doll."

Pan exhaled deeply. The two girls were kneeling nearly waist deep in a sea of fake hair and miniature limbs. Bra had dumped about two tubs full of various 'Babe' dolls as soon as she had released Pan to the exclusion of her room. From Pan's viewpoint, it was a prison. It also didn't help that Bra had more dolls than Pan had training sessions within an entire month.

The younger child dug somberly through the piles of strewn dolls, carefully selecting a certain one before rejecting it with the same careful scrutiny. The rejects were tossed over her shoulder, before they collided with her bedroom door. They made a loud, resonating 'WHUMP' before hitting the floor. Pan could only watch with morbid fascination as each and every one that had undergone this process was now half a head shorter. With the raw strength behind Bra's throws, they usually hit the solid door head on, which caused the top half of their plastic skulls to implode. No wonder why Bulma had made it such a point as to buy so many dolls for her daughter. "Here! I found you!"

Pan riveted her attention back to Bra, eyes wide on the doll that the demi-Saiyan had selected.

Bra triumphantly held up a tall doll with the body of a waif. She had dark, straight hair similar to Pan's, as well as dark eyes. There was no muscle tone, no hint of the slightest power in her svelte conformation. "She looks like you!"

"No, she doesn't. No one looks like that!"

The teal-haired girl defiantly jutted out her lower lip in a small pout. "Of course she does! See?" Bra motioned blatantly to the similar colorations between the doll and her breathing counterpart.

"Maybe in that way, but..."

"Here, take her."

Pan gritted her teeth and accepted the doll contemptuously. In the meantime, she motioned over to the damaged, inanimate figurines that lay in a haphazard pile near Bra's bedroom door. "Do you even care that you broke those?"

Bra spared a glance over her shoulder, shaking her head quickly in response. "No, silly!" She giggled a little. "Mommy always gets me more."

Pan openly bared her teeth. If she ever thought Bra was a spoiled brat before, this only proved it. "You can't just go treating stuff like that, even if it is yours!"

Bra blinked guilelessly up at Pan. "Why not?"

"Um, 'cause the world can't always give you an endless supply of dolls!"

The six-year-old's features darkened quickly at that statement, her expression a near replica of her father's scowl. "Can too!" She huffed and sulkily crossed her arms against her chest.

"Can not!" Pan replied, her agitation at being forced to play with dolls growing even further. Her frown deepened, and she threw down the dark-haired doll that Bra had given her. "I'm not playing with these stupid things!"

Bra stood in a motion so quick; it was nearly a streak of color. Instead of going for Bulma as she usually did under these circumstances, she snapped the head off the blonde 'Malibu Babe' that she had been holding in her hands. "Will too!" Her high tenor echoed off the walls of the room, as piercing as Bulma's own.

Pan traded looks between the seething Bra, the decapitated doll she now held, and the pile of rejects near the door with the sunken heads. Almost quietly, the seven-year-old ventured to ask, "How did you get so strong, Bra?"

Bra lost her frown, but her usually wide eyes remained narrowed. "Doesn't matter. Play dolls with me!"

Pan shook her head, standing fully upright. "Ya know, you could actually do something with that strength of yours, instead of breaking your things all the time."

The younger girl seemed to consider the possibility for a moment, but then she firmly shook her head and stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I don't wanna learn to fight. Trunks said the same thing."

"Why not?"

A small nose crinkled at the thought. "Because fighting is for boys."

"Is not! My dad trains me all the time." Pan's indignant protest cut through the tension still hovering in the air.

"Is too!"

Pan found herself staring defeat in the face, but still refused to give up. Bra may have won the battle again, but not the war. "Look, I'll..." She found herself choking on the words, "I'll play dolls with you this time, if you spar with me later."

Bra appeared to be seriously considering the proposal with all the severity that a youth possessed. Instead of running to Bulma, her father or grandparents, she smirked. It was a slow movement, a gliding curve of her lips upward to one side of her mouth. It was Vegeta's smirk, no doubt. "Fine. Only if you help me with something later."

Gohan's daughter paused, surprise filling her face. "What's that?"

"I need to get Mommy and Daddy to like each other again."

"You what?"

"You heard me." Bra's smirk was suddenly wiped clean again, her countenance a mask of determination. "Mommy said that Daddy spends too much time training, and eating, and Daddy said that Mommy spends too much time playing in her lab."

Pan looked absolutely speechless. "..And you want me to help you fix this somehow?"

Bra nodded, her charade gone almost at once. Her lower lip trembled, and the grim resolution she had a moment prior fell away. At any moment, she might burst out bawling. "Puh-lease, Pan? I'll be your best friend forever if you do!"

The last thing Pan wanted was for Bra to start gushing waterworks, so she held up both of her hands peaceably. "Ok, ok, I'll help you. Just don't cry!" She almost blurted out that Bra could keep her eternal friendship, it wouldn't be needed. On the other hand, it might just serve as a second catalyst for Bra's tears.

A wide grin appeared on Bra's round face, and she nearly squealed with delight. "Oh, you will!? Thanks, Pan!"

"Don't mention it," Pan muttered. What had she just gotten herself into?

"Now, all we need to do is..."

As Pan listened to Bra's proposal, all the coloration seeped from her face. She swallowed twice, while her hands fidgeted uncontrollably in front of her. Obviously, Bra had been scheming over her plan for at least a few days. There was no way the first-grader could come up with the entire thing on a spur of the moment basis. When she finished, Pan was flabbergasted.

"But.. but.. your parents will kill us if they find out!"

Bra snickered, her deviousness now at the forefront. "They won't."

"How can you say that?"

Bra rolled her eyes, as if it were obvious. "We are shorter than Daddy and Mommy, and a lot sneakier."

"That's your reason?" Pan said shrilly.

"Uh-huh."

"We're dead meat. I have a bad feeling about this." Trust her to take up the logic of someone only six years in age. ...Then again, Pan was only a meager year older. It was all she really had to work with.

"You worry too much." She made a point to stare meaningfully down at the floor, still layered with dolls and their accessories.

Pan's gaze followed Bra's down to her toys. "What?"

"Are we gonna play dolls, or what? You promised!"

"Did not!" Pan shot back.

"Did too!" Bra's spine stiffened experientially, her muscles tensing.

Pan sighed. "I said I would, but I didn't promise." She hunkered down to the carpeting again, opting to sit cross-legged. "Let's just get this over with, ok?"

The demi-Saiyan rolled her eyes ceilingward. "Party-pooper." Bra jerked a finger in Pan's direction, almost in challenge. "You better play nice, or I'm not going to spar with you later!"

Pan laughed a little, despite herself. "I won't help you with your parents, then."

For the very first time, Bra looked cornered. "Fine, be like that. Let's just play, alright?" Her blue eyebrows tugged upward, in hope of Pan's compliance with the original strategy.

The smile she got in return was done a bit grudgingly, but at least it was genuine. "Alright." Pan reached for her discarded, dark-haired doll. Bra selected a new doll out of her plethora of others, one with the same clothes and the puffed, cornflower hair that her first did. One could even say that it resembled her grandmother somewhat. As Pan forced herself to play with the doll she represented while Bra did it naturally with her own, she couldn't help but wonder if the week would go from bad to worse. Oh well, at least she got a single sparring session out of it, even if it was with Bra.

-AN: Well, that's it for Chapter 4. Just -what- did Bra come up with to get Vegeta and Bulma back together? Will it even work? More next time!

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball, nor the characters, ect.