Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Sheep and the Hedgehog ❯ Unchain My Heart ( Chapter 4 )

 

 

 

The Sheep and the Hedgehog

Part 4

Unchain My Heart

 

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Yamcha, Bulma or Vegeta, they are Akira Toryiama's. I don't own Unchain My Heart lyrics either; it's an old hit from Joe Cocker composed by and I thought it just fitted here. The only things mine are Satou and the cruel things the characters are going through. ;)

Thanks once again to Applescruffs, for betting it for me_and, mainly, for her patience.

 

It was a good while they were seated there. On the table, a small mountain composed by empty glasses and dessert plates had already begun to form, all of them coming from the girl, who ate with an appetite able to put even a Saiyan to shame. Yamcha hadn't consumed anything beyond a beer because of the nervous lump forming in his stomach.

 

“She's already supposed to be here!” he consulted his watch for the millionth time. As soon as he did that, his peripheral vision told him the door was opening, and he looked up. His companion turned to watch the newcomer, too.

 

“Is it her?”

Yamcha gave her a crossed look. The woman that had just squeezed herself through the door was probably 45 years old and weighed at least 250 pounds. Satou had to be joking. But she wasn't, and he knew that.

 

“No, “he snapped “Listen, you didn't forget to tell Bulma where we are, did you?”

She looked offended.

“Sure I did not! I even walked out there twice to check on the name of this place. “ the pink-haired girl pointed at the exit with her spoon, spilling some melted ice-cream on the tablecloth. She frowned, both at the waste of ice-cream and the unpleasant memory of her call: “That Bulma of yours was very rude to me. She hung up on me twice then yelled at me a lot at the third time I called! But everything ended up alright. She didn't even recognize my voice!” she concluded with pride.

 

“Of course she didn't recognize your voice, since she doesn't know you!” Yamcha snapped impatiently.

Her smile vanished in disappointment.

“But… so I didn't need to cover the phone with my hankie to muffle my voice, like in the detective movies. Damn it. I always wanted to do that.”

Yamcha gave her an admiring look.

“No, you were right! I hadn't thought of that. That way, when Bulma gets here she won't recognize your voice and realize you were the one who made the anonymous call.”

”Oh, good. But… you just said she doesn't know me, so how can she recognize my voice?”


Yamcha rolled his eyes up. It was really a shame that Goku had married Chichi. He could have found his soulmate in Satou. Ah, Bulma, if she only could realize the sacrifices he made for her! Fortunately, the door opened again, sparing him from a long explanation that would puzzle Satou's little head even more that it already was.

 

They watched as the door opened.

 

*****

 

Bulma had spent the hours after lunch pacing around, wondering whether or not she should investigate where Yamcha was. More than once she walked towards the telephone, but always gave in before even touching it. Big-mouthed as her friends were, if she made called any of them in a couple of hours the whole world would learn that she and Yamcha were split up again. Worse, he would know that she had been asking for him, the last thing in the world that Bulma wanted. She was sure that her still-boyfriend had stormed off because he felt neglected in favor of the “cold-hearted murderer”. That was the main cause of their fights. Not exactly Vegeta, but the typical macho mentality, which allowed a betrothed man to flirt but prohibited his girlfriend from giving another guy a single pure, disinterested look. The most incredible was that all their friends seemed to agree with Yamcha at this. Despite all technological advances of Century XX, people still think the same way they did in Middle Ages.

 

Mrs. Briefs was starting to complain that Bulma was driving her dizzy walking into circles like this, when the phone rang. A chimy, timid voice asked if it was the `Corpse Corporation'. Thinking it was a joke, Bulma slammed down the phone, but it rang again. This time the voice said the name of the company right, but it asked for “Blunt”. Bulma almost broke the phone.

 

It rang again. Bulma was already having a fit, and made it clear for the poor creature at the other side of the line. When she took a pause to breath, the timid, and now also shaking voice begged: “Please, don't hung up again! I have to talk to Blunder… I mean, to Bloomer, no, Bulma.. yes, that's it, Bulma!”

”That's me.” snapped the one.

 

“Ah, is that you? I'm so sorry, didn't mean to mess with your name, it's just I am, I was nervous. Look, I just wanted to say… what I have to say… ah! Remember Yamcha, your boyfriend?”

”What happened to Yamcha?” Bulma straightened up unconsciously.

 

“He's with me, I mean, he's with another girl. Better you'll come soon to not loose your boyfriend. He's a hot guy and…”

 

“Where is he?” the scientist interrupted with Buddist patience.

 

“At one of those places you always go… err, you used to go, because after this I don't think…”

”What place?!” Bulma almost screamed.

 

It was one ice cream parlor where she and Yamcha habitually liked to go, but the girl took too much to say that. The impression Bulma had was that she had first to walk to the front of the façade to determine the name before she could spell it correctly. After she finally clicked off, the curly-haired scientistsat and remained a long time in deep meditation…

 

*****

 

I'm under your spell like a man on a trance

You know darn well that I don't stand a chance

 

Yamcha stared anxiously as the door opened again. It was Bulma this time. She was as pretty as ever, even with that silly permanent. He thought that by the time she had taken to get here she could perfectly have done a pit-stop in a beauty parlor before coming. And why was she was wearing a jacket in such a hot day? Ah, probably something she had seen in a fashion magazine.

 

She entered and glanced around. Luckily, the place was crowded because of the unusual warmth of the day, and Yamcha had strategically chosen one of the last tables at the backgrounds. He quickly avoided her look, but the same didn't happen to Satou, who kept looking back:

“Is that her? Wow, she's more beautiful than I thought!” she said aloud. Yamcha tugged at her arm:

 

“Chhh!! Don't look at her direction! She'll notice us!“

 

“But didn't you want her to see you with me?”

Desperately, Yamcha grabbed her by her shoulders, making Satou spin towards him, but she let out a yelp that got the attention of the people around them, including a waiter. To disguise it, he ordered a giant strawberry sundae, even knowing that extra expense would put him in trouble later. The waiter blocked his vision for a moment. When he walked away, Bulma was happening to stare right at their direction. Her eyes met Yamcha's before the young man could avoid it. Oh damn. Well, he still could pretend he hadn't seen her. He started chattering amiably with Satou as he watched Bulma out of the corner of his eye.

 

Funny, she was doing nothing. He had expected that she would bully her way towards them screaming at high decibels, then give a punch on his head or tried to yank Satou's hair off, any of her usual scandals. Instead, she just looked at him thoughtfully. She even looked a little… sad.

 

“I wonder if I overdid it?” he thought.

 

She turned to glance at the door. Oh no! If she went away he would have to run after her, and he had spent too much on this plan. Speaking of spending, the waiter approached with the sundae, cutting his vision of the door for a minute. When he left, Yamcha saw Bulma walking towards him, slowly still with decision. He felt relieved, but couldn't help feeling a cold in his stomach.

 

“Aren't you going to eat this?” Satou stared at the strawberry sundae with a desiring look.

 

“Huh?” Yamcha whirled at her voice. He had forgotten the damned ice-cream.

 

“No, no, you may eat. I ordered it for you!” he pushed the compote towards her. Satou muttered a hurried `thanks' and dug in, like she never had eaten anything before in her life. Yamcha glanced back at Bulma's direction, but he didn't see her. What?
In the next second, a voice whispered in his ear, at the opposite side:

“Stop pretending. The jig is up.”

 

The jump Yamcha gave from his chair wasn't pretended.

“Bulma!” he yelped “Oh…uh… hi!” he chuckled humorlessly “I didn't expect to see you here.”

 

“Don't play fool with me Yamcha! I noticed when you looked at my direction.”

 

“I don't know what you're talking about. “ the scarred man closed his eyes disdainfully “ I was here, eating some ice-cream with my little friend Satou…”

 

“Friend?” asked his companion “But you said we were boyfriend and girlf…mfff!!” Yamcha put his hands over her mouth.

 

“Heehee. Satou, I want you to meet Bulma. A great friend of mine.”

 

Satou gave him a puzzled look, but smiled brightly at the newcomer, forgetting completely that she was the woman who had been so rude to her in the telephone:

“Hi! So you are the Bulma Yamcha talks so much about? You're so pretty!”

Bulma stared at her with surprise. The girl stared back with sincere interest, without any trace of hostility or embarrassment expected in a circumstance like that. She was… pretty, of course, but in an old-fashioned way, very different from the kind of woman Bulma expected to find with Yamcha. She resembled Lunch a bit, although her eyes and her curly hair were both pink, and wore romantic clothes in smooth colors, which gave her the air of a Disney girl.

 

“Thanks Satou.” Bulma managed to blurt out “You are… very nice. Do you mind if I borrow your friend for a little talk?”

Yamcha paled, but faked an indifferent look:

“Why? We're so comfortable here, Satou and I. I have nothing to say to you.” He glanced at Satou for support. The pink-haired girl glanced from one to another and finally to the half-melted ice-cream.

 

“Yamcha, I think you should talk to her. The poor girl is so upset, and would be a pity if all her time spent coming here was for nothing.” She said sweetly, then started eating again as she had done her good deed of the day.

 

More sweat drops rolled down Yamcha's forehead. Man, how had he gotten into this? He hadn't much time for regret, however, because Bulma had already sat and asked him without more ceremony:

“Why did you run off that way?”

 

“What do you mean with running off? I always had the right of come and go from your house as I pleased.”

 

“But not without warning! Never occurred you that I could be worried?”

”Oh, I saw how worried you were about me, while you were busy taking care of your other guest. Did he turn you down?”

”No, Vegeta didn't turn me down, especially because there's nothing between us!”

 

“Perhaps. “ Yamcha gave a skeptical smile “But admit that you've got a thing for him.”

”Me? Are you insane?” screamed Bulma “Just because I was worried that he could die?”

 

“Worried? The only thing you didn't for him was to carry him to the infirmary in your arms! You've never acted to me that way whenever I got hurt!”

”That's not truth! When Tenshinhan broke your leg I visited you everyday in the hospital!”

“But after a few minutes you always got bored and found an excuse to leave!”

”How could you know? Your sight was always covered by all those nurses fussying and pushing food in your mouth like you were a baby bird!”

 

“And you, who've been ogling over that Zarbon guy, when I was dead? Kuririn told me everything!”

'I'm going to kill that baldy' Bulma thought.

 

“How do you dare to question my fidelity?” she screeched “I wasn't drooling, I was asking for him to save us from Ve… why, that's not your business!”

 

“You're right. It's not my business what you do, and it's not yours what I do. Right, Satou? Satou?” he turned to his accomplice for a confirmation, but gasped. Having finished eating, she was busying herself folding napkins to make little figures. She looked up:

“Huh? Did you say something, Yamcha?”

He brushed his own napkin against his dripping forehead.
”N-no, nothing important. Just finish your origami, honey.”

”I'm already done, Master.” She showed her little frog of paper. “Isn't it cute?”

`Master? ` Bulma raised one eyebrow. She bent over the table, studying cryptically the other girl “Satou, do I know you from somewhere?”

 

Yamcha fast cut her off:

“Satou, uh... hm… wouldn't you like to make another pet for me?” he handed out his own napkin, which had been turned into a wrinkled, sweat-soggy ball “Maybe a camel or a… donkey? “ he said behind clenched teeth.

 

“Yamcha!” Bulma scolded him. He flinched, but she smiled amiably:

“She said she has finished.” and turned her smile at her supposed rival. Satou smiled in return.

 

“You're so funny Bulma! And you name's funny, too. Isn't it a sort of underwear?”

Yamcha cowered and shielded himself with the menu. If there was something Bulma hated was that people said the meaning of her name aloud, and worse if they found that funny, as innocently as they meant it. Now it was really the end.

 

However, instead of the earthquake he expected, Bulma just kept her strange, calm smile.

 

“Your name's funny too, Satou… or should I say… Puar?”

Satou blinked. Was it Bulma's impression or she had seen a glimpse of recognition in her pink eyes?

 

“Puar?” she asked “Isn't it a sort of tea?”

 

“No. It's a sort of flying cat. A… shapeshifting one!” in a quick move, Bulma stood up and grabbed Satou by her hair.

 

“Aaaahhh!!” she bent with a squeal of pain “Yamcha, help!”

”Bulma!” he jumped up in defense of his accomplice “Are you crazy?”

A few people around also started to stand up from their tables, shocked with that woman that really looked crazy.

 

“Let her go! She's not Puar.” Yamcha insisted.

“Ouch! Ouch!”

 

Bulma released Satou's hair, but snapped back:
”You're not going to convince me this is a real woman! `Your name's so funny Bulma. You look so pretty, Bulma!'” she mocked the other's babblings”Come on, nobody sane talks that way...”

Just that exact moment Puar entered the place. It could be a movie scene, so perfect was the timing .

“Master Yamcha, I know you told me to stay way, but I couldn't... oh, hello, Bulma!” he said.

 

She froze. Her widened eyes flew from Satou to Puar, from Puar to Satou, until they stopped on Yamcha. A silence fell over the room. Even people around stood in their places, like expecting what would happen by next. It was Yamcha, however, who did the first move:
”See?” he asked in a mixture of triumph and censure.

 

“I'd just like to know why she called you master!” Bulma yelled.

 

“Satou heard Puar calling me like this and decided to do the same, as a joke. Not that I wanted it.” the young man explained with some grudge. They glanced at Satou, whose lips were trembling because of the brutal assault. It occurred Bulma that she also could be Oolong .However, the little pig not only was too cowardly to risk his hide against her possible wrath as well he couldn't stand more than five minutes transformed. And Oolong would complain by having his `hair' pulled, not pout to cry as that big baby was doing. The scientist felt her faces getting red with shame.

 

“I'm sorry,” she apologized “I thought it was a friend of Yamcha.”

 

“You are a very mean woman.” Satou whimpered. Bulma felt like offering her a lollipop. She turned to glare at her ex-boyfriend.

“Your tastes have changed a lot, I see.”

He showed the palms of his hands:
”Bulma...”

Bulma interrupted him icily:

”Doesn't need explaining, it's obvious I'm not supposed to be here. But don't worry, I'm not going to bother you anymore” She bent over and pecked on Satou `s face “Thank you for opening my eyes.” Then she fast head to the door, looking upon her shoulder before she opened it:” Have a great fun with you new girlfriend. Just take care to not be arrested for pedophilia.”

The customers and employeers sighed in relief. Yamcha, however, ran at the door, too:
”Bulma, wait! It's a big misunderstanding!”

”The only misunderstanding here was me thinking that you were a grow-up!” she yelled, slamming the glass door on his face with such violence that its panes shook. Satou caressed her own face in astonishment for the unexpected kiss.

 

“She's not that bad, after all. I just couldn't get what she mean with that pedo...pedofifie thing. Are you a pedicure, Yamcha? Why can be you be arrested for tha...”

 

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! This is all your fault!” the young man exploded. She pouted and trembled her lips.
”You're yelling at me, too? That's not fair! All I want is to help people but nobody understaaands meeeeee!!!!” she cried, tears cascading down her cheeks. Puar patted on her shoulders with sympathy.

”Now, now, Master Yamcha. Don't need to be so…”

 

“Shut up! This is your fault, too! If you had agreed to turn into a girl I wouldn't have to use that moron!”

Puar gave him a very hurt look. Only then Yamcha noticed there were other people looking at him. In their eyes, you could read one word clearly : MONSTER. He realized the impression he must be causing: Bulma storming off , Satou melting in tears and Puar looking about to cry, too. But that had never been his intention.

 

“What are you looking at?” he snapped “It's not my fault! I... oh, damn it!” and with that he ran after his girlfriend. At least he hoped she still was.

 

Fuming, Bulma marched her way through the street in a way that caused people to jump aside to avoid a collision. That damned jacket was getting hotter and hotter, which increased her irritation, and she started to take it off without even stopping.

 

“Bulmaaa!” Yamcha yelled a few meters behind.

 

She fastened her pace as she fought desperately to dress in the jacket again. With that, there wasn't a way to notice someone was coming _ until it was too late.

 

“Oouff!! Sorry!” for a few seconds, the vision of a tanned face with cold stony eyes flicked through her mind.

 

“It's alright.” The voice of the stranger broke the spell. She blinked.

 

The boy that had literally hit on her was tanned like Vegeta and almost as tall as she was. He had black hair too, but it was straight and tied in a ponytail, and his eyes, though as cold and unexpressive as the Saiyan's, were blue. He was wearing an old jeans and a black t-shirt, with a red bandana wrapped around his neck. He stared back at her in a available way, the corner of his mouth raised as though he was liking what he was looking at -and why wouldn't he?

Bulma always lost her control in the face of handsome boys, especially of the bad boy type. However, maybe because she was still so irked or because he made her remember the pesky Prince of Jerks, the fact was that instead of jumping and drooling over him, she snapped angrily:
”Can't you ever see where you're going?”

The stranger took a step back, a little surprised with the attack, but by no way looking offended or hurt. Instead, he widened his smile, as if he enjoyed that fury against him. The voice of Yamcha reached them:

 

“Bulma! Leave my girlfriend alone, you runt…!” he yelled at the stranger as he approached them.

 

“What girlfriend?” Bulma snapped back before whirling back at the boy ”See what you did?”

 

“Me?” he showed the palms of his black-gloved hands dismissively “I have nothing to do with this. But, if you like, I can get rid of him…”he leered at her. Bulma wrinkled her nose.

 

“No, thank you.” She closed her eyes in disdain ”I can take of myself.”

”Be my guest.” He shrugged and crossed the street.

 

“Bulma… please, let me explain...”Yamcha approached her. He expected her to walk away from him again, but she just crossed her arms and let out a resigned huff. He interpreted that as an assessment.

 

“Look… all that stuff… you were completely right. Satou is not my girlfriend, she never was. I asked her to give you that call and pretend that we were dating, so you'd be jealous. After I saw you so concerned with Vegeta… I lost my head, I simply had to know if you still felt something for me. Your only error was to suppose she was Puar. Neither Puar or Oolong wanted to turn into a girl and I had no way but asking for my friends, but only Satou agreed to help.”

 

“The fact of only her agreeing to it should have given you a hint of how good was your plan.” She said icily.

 

“Well, but what matters is that I wasn't cheating on you, right?” he smiled, but she didn't smiled at him in return:

”I preferred you were.”

 

Yamcha looked puzzled, to not say hurt. He was so sure that Bulma would be relieved when she learned it was all a joke. She still loved him, for sure; why else she would have come running to see him? Then he remembered. Ah, that would butter her up.

 

“Wait a minute. I almost forgot this… “ he reached in his pocket and extracted a small box. Bulma's eyes rounded wide:

”What's this?” she had one idea of what it was, but didn't want to believe.

 

“Ta-daaa!” He opened the box, revealing a pretty, small ring. Actually, it wasn't exactly what he wanted to give her, and he suspected that its microscopic stone wasn't even semiprecious, but it was the most expensive he could afford at the moment.

 

“I know it's not very big” he ran his fingers through his hair in embarrassment “but it's only temporary, until I can afford something really worthy of you. I planned to give you this ring after I had told you the truth about Satou.”

Unchain my heart, baby, let me be

Cause if you don't care, please, set me free

 

 

He knelt at the middle of the sidewalk, almost causing a woman to trip over his legs. The woman went away mumbling curses.

 

“Bulma, I want to marry you. I mean, not now, but after the three years… if I'm still alive then. I'd rather to marry you right now, but I don't even now if I'll be alive , and I don't want to make you a premature widow. So…” he caught the ring “I just want you to be my bride, by now. I'm leaving to train in the desert and… well, if you have nothing to do with Vegeta I believe you, but I'd feel more secure if we've made a commitment now. “Gently, he held her hand to slip the ring on her finger. The contact with his hand woke Bulma from her stupor.

 

“NO!” she made the ring fly with a slap “What hell do you think I am?”

 

“Bulma! “ Yamcha blurted in shock and plunged after the `precious jewel', for the amusement of people passing by. He managed to retrieve the ring before it rolled into a gutter, being missed by close by a car and receiving some curses from its occupant. He walked back to his girlfriend, one hand rubbing angrily his no longer immaculate clothes.

“Are you crazy? Do you have idea of how much I paid for this ring?”

”I don't care! Even if it was eighteen karat gold I wouldn't accept it!”

 

He looked hurt.

“Of course you can afford jewels much fancier than this, but you don't need to humiliate.”

” IT'S NOT THE RING, IT'S YOU! You want to leave me shackled to an engagement with you just to feel save as you'll be training Kami knows where, to marry me only three years over - IF the Droids don't kill you, which's more than probable! Why don't you ask me to become a nun, instead?”

”Ah! Now I got it!” he raised an accusing finger “You're refusing my engagement so you'll be free to be with Vegeta while I'm out!”

”Vegeta has nothing to do with this! Don't you see, Yamcha, that you're trying to keep something that no longer exists between us?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

****

 

Idly, he rested his weight on the wall as he watched the couple fighting from a safe distance. They argued too much… why she simply didn't tell him to kiss off? He saw her slapping the jerk's hand and laughed lowly as he watched him cradling towards the gutter. Feistly little thing! But so pretty. If he hadn't errands to run, he'd be glad in helping her to get rid from that looser. No, let go. She made it clear that she didn't want his help - and it was obvious she didn't need it. Besides, one grumpy hag on his neck was more than enough…

”A little too old for you, isn't she?” asked a sarcastic voice at his back.

 

Speak of the devil.

 

He turned to face the girl that had talked to him. She was as tall as him and had also straight hair, but her locks were blonde, in a golden-corn hue, almost reaching her waist. No one would say they were brother and sister, let alone twins. The only sign of parenthood was their blue eyes, cold and unexpressive as the eyes of a mannequin.

 

“As much as you or better, as us.” He retorted well-humouredly.

 

“Hmpf. You men are always deceived by a short skirt and some well-placed make-up. She must be at least twenty -six.”

 

He clapped his hands.

“Bravo! That's my Sukie, the expert in woman's beauty. You really should think of getting a career out of this, sis.”

 

“Out with this bullshit and give me the wallet, Jack.”

”What wallet?” he feigned innocence.

 

“The one you took from Miss Fancy-Shoes.” The girl hissed, in a I'm - not-in -the-mood-for-your-stupid -jokes tone.

 

“Oh, this?” he took Bulma's wallet from his pocket “Funny, how did this get in my pocket?”

 

Sukie yanked it sullenly from his hands and examined it with a frown. It was full with money and credit cards.

 

“I think that we had agreed to stop doing this when we moved from South City.” She mumbled.

 

“But we need some money to start a new life. Of course, if you like I can give it back…”

”No. We're both needing new clothes.” she shrugged as she guarded the wallet in her own pocket “Com'on, let's buy those jeans we saw in the mall.”

 

Jack simply laughed.

 

****

”I don't understand, Bulma. Since we fell with each other we promised to marry some day….”

”That was centuries ago! Never occurred you that people may change through the years? Besides, it was always you whom really wanted to marry. I never really cared that much.

 

He was utterly shocked.

“But… all women dream to get married!!”

”That's what YOU men want women to believe! Alright, I admit I thought of marrying someday, but that always was more a dream of my mom's than mine. Since I was new I heard her say: `Oh Bulma you'll look gorgeous in the same church with white flowers where your father and I got married and with the lace veil that was your grandmother's! “They both laughed at her imitation of Mrs. Briefs' chatters. Then she looked serious again:
”Maybe that's why I never could figure myself in front of an altar looking like a giant marshmallow just because it's what all women are expected to do. See how little you know about me? How do you expect me to marry a man who never really understood me, and that thinks I am stupid at the point of falling into that ridiculous trap of yours?”

 

“But you fell. As much that you stormed out of the ice-cr...” Yamcha started to laugh victoriously, but Bulma gave him one look.

 

The laugh died in his throat.

“You… you didn't fall. So you were pretending!”

 

“Do you really have to ask? I knew it since that girl called. Actually, I more or less expected that. You always date with other girls when we're split up to make me jealous. I just didn't expect that you would pick up a date in the bughouse.”

Yamcha was so beside of himself that he barely listened to her. How could she be so cold, so… so pretending? So… backstabbing?
”You pretended to believe I was cheating on you, so you'd have a good excuse to dump me, and to run after Vegeta or any other man you put your eyes on!” he yelled.

 

“Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta, that's all what you can say!” Bulma screeched back “Stop using that repulsive monkey as an excuse to cover your own flaws! You tried to humiliate me with that poor dumb girl, so I would crawl at your feet to get you back. Then, when you revealed the truth, I'd be more than relieved in accepting your selfish proposal! You didn't only think that I'm stupid but that I'm also a desperate old maid!”

”And you're not?” he said as venomously as he could “You think you are the Queen of Beauty but you're so damn annoying that no other man wants you, with pretty looks and all! Excepting me, your eternal rug, fool enough to spend the best years of my life awaiting for a spoiled, self-centered, boorish girl that doesn't care a bean about me!” he roared, his faces turning crimson. Bulma blanched and took a step back, her eyes glazing with shock. Immediately he regretted it.

 

“Oh, Bulma, I'm sorry. I didn't want to…”

”No, you did. Please don't take it back...” her voice trembled a little, but she inhaled deeply and calmed down “It's I who's supposed to apologize. Maybe I really have abused of you a little. But don't need to worry. You may leave with whoever you want or to train in the Hell, if you like! I'm setting you free!” she turned to go away.

 

“But I don't want you set me free!” Yamcha wanted to cry out, but instead just seized her by one arm - luckily, a point above from where Vegeta had hurt her. However, that was enough to scare her, so she didn't resist.

 

“One last question” he said “If you knew that was it wasn't true from the beginning, why have you come? Just to throw it on my face?”

How could he be so insensitive at the point of thinking that she'd do such a thing?

 

“No.” Bulma swallowed, avoiding his look. “I… I `ve come because… I didn't want that you abandoned me. “she felt the tears coming up to her eyes and took a deep breath, hating Yamcha for more that humiliation “I don't want to loose your friendship, Yamcha.”

 

Your friendship. Not your love.

 

“ Since that strange boy gave us that bloody warning, you men all disappeared to train and left me all alone. You're the only one I still have seen, sometimes. I was afraid that you would disappear too, and I'd have to spend three years in absolute loneliness. But it doesn't make a difference anymore, does it?” she asked bitterly as she raised to him her beautiful blue eyes.

 

Yamcha swallowed too and stared back.

“No, it doesn't.” he said in a dry tone. Part of him said that because he wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt him; another part, however, said that because he really wanted to go.

 

“ IF the Droids won't kill you, what's more than probable!”

 

Maybe she was right, he knew that, as much as he trained, he never would become as powerful as Goku or Vegeta. However, that didn't mean he just would stand aside watching as the rest of the others fought. Even he hadn't power enough, he could be useful in another way, and if he died, oh well, at least he would die with honor. She hadn't the right of chaining him to her heels, just to prevent from being alone. But the sadness in her eyes was sincere, and he really felt sorry for her. It wouldn't be easy to spend such a long time all by herself.

 

“I'm sorry.” He blurted out.

 

Her face opened up in a smile:

“Sorry why? I made my decision, you have to do yours. “ she held out a hand “So, will I see you on the great day?”

Yamcha blanched.

“You're not planning to go there, are you?” he stuttered. It occurred him that maybe she was planning to commit suicide.

 

“Of course I am! I wouldn't loose that for nothing! Besides, if you'll loose, we'll all going to die. So at least I'll have gotten a good look at those Androids before they kill me too.”

 

That was the carefree, adventuresome Bulma that Yamcha knew well. He sighed.

“Well, I know that nothing I can say will change your mind.”

”It won't.” she confirmed “So, see ya after three years?”

”Whatever.”

”Bye.”< br>
”Bye.”

 

And she finally went away. This time Yamcha didn't try to stop her.

 

He had humiliated himself, more than a man can bear. He had spent a lot of money, more than he could afford it, just to know if she still loved him. He had thought she'd be relieved to know he still loved her and wanted to make her his. Women always found it so romantic to be engaged to men who left them to fight in war or something, at least that was what movies claimed. Instead, she had accused him of humiliating her and underestimating her intelligence. She even said that he didn't really know her. As amazing as it was, looked like he didn't, despite all those years they had spent together.

 

He glowered at the little ring, feeling a strong impulse of throwing it away. But thinking better, he fetched it back in his pocket. With luck, maybe he could retrieve part of the money spent on it. Yamcha took a deep breath and shrugged. At least now he would be able to train without her usual complaints that he was abandoning her. He could even go with Marilyn to the concert of the Plastic Angels without any weight in his consciousness. Bulma hated the Plastic Angels' music. Actually, besides the same friends and the adventures they had shared (and their equal weakness for the opposite sex), they hadn't much in common. Maybe Bulma had really done him a favor. He tried to smile, but it hurt too much. His only comfort was that Vegeta hadn't been the cause of their breaking up. `Repulsive monkey', he reminded himself with pleasure, and this time the corner of his mouth raised. Three years with no one else to talk to but Vegeta and she would be more than avid to want him back. But then, probably it would be him, Yamcha, who wouldn't want her anymore.

 

Unchain my heart, let me go my way

Unchain my heart, you worry me night and day

Why lead me through a life of misery

When you don't care a bag of beans for me

Unchain my heart, please, set me free

 

“Master Yamcha, are you alright?” Puar flew at his direction when he entered the ice-cream parlor “I told you you shouldn't make Bulma jealous!”

Satou approached, too.

“I'm sorry the things haven't gone the way you expected. Maybe your little cat's right.”

”Uh?” Yamcha looked at them as he was waking up from a dream, then laughed and ran his fingers through his hair ”Oh, never mind! Look, Satou, wouldn't you like a drink? Then we could go to the theater, or anywhere else...”

She let out a crystalline giggle:
”Thanks, but no. I already have a date. And... “she become serious “Even if I hadn't, I'd never date you.”

”Why not? “

”When we met, I thought you were nice. But I never date guys that call me donkey and moron! I bet that was the reason why she turned you down, and if it was, you deserved it!!”

 

Yamcha looked at his feet, feeling he really deserved that. However, before he could apologize or do anything else, she held out her hand:
”Pay me.”

”What?”

”The 30 zeni you promised if I pretended to be your girlfriend.” She said, all sweetness and innocence wiped out from her face. Yamcha made a very outraged look that said clearly he preferred to put her on his knees and spank her than pay something she didn't deserve. She made a pout and looked very hurt:

“You're not going to do this with me, are you? Cause people here are still upset with you because you made me cry, they were so good with me as I was waiting for you to come back! They'll think... sniff...sniff... that you're being bad to me again.”

Effectively, some people -men, mostly - were already glaring at Yamcha. One of the waiters even started his way towards them. The former thief quickly picked up his wallet and gave her the 30 zeni.

 

“Oh, thank you.” Satou singsonged as she placed the money in her own wallet “It's always so good to help who needs us. G'bye Yamcha, see you later.” she waved a hand and left.

 

“Never again!” he thought. Dejectedly, he rested his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. What good was in having lost his fear for girls if he couldn't understand them? He felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the waiter.

 

“What do you want? I did nothing to the girl, it's she who...”

”It's not that, buddy. You and the miss have consumed a lot of ice-creams and candy.”

 

“I haven't consumed anything! It was her who ate everything!”

”She said that she had no money and that you would pay when you'd come back.” he showed the bill to Yamcha.

25 zeni. Resignedly, the young man reached for his wallet again and peeked inside. He blanched. He looked at it again, opened at turned it from inside to out, then buried his hands desperately on every pocket of his clothes.

 

That fake, pretending con-girl! She had taken almost all the money and left him with nothing but a few coins to pay the ice-creams that she had eaten! He looked pleadingly at the older man:

“I want to pay, I swear. But the girl took all my money.”

”Ah, she took all your money.” echoed the man “That happens a lot.” he nodded understandingly.

“Thanks for understanding. I... I promise I'll pay you later.” Yamcha stood up to leave, but two strong hands grabbed his shoulders.

 

“Don't worry. I see you're a very honest boy and that you really don't want to go without paying. As we're very comprehensive, you may pay with work. There are lots of dirty plates and glasses in the kitchen waiting to be washed.” And he started to push Yamcha towards the kitchen. The ex-desert bandit moaned.

“Puar, moments like this I wish we never had left the desert.”

 

 

Despite his plans of moving out from the Capsule Corp, Vegeta came back that same night.

The shameful scene of Kakarot's family and the Namekian's gibes were poking at his pride. If he would give in his comfort just because of a stupid woman then he would be damned! He was Vegeta and did only what he wanted to do.

 

Still, to avoid an argument with the woman and an eventual run to the bathroom, he slipped through the window of his bedroom. He took a shower and dressed some clean clothes, then collapsed on the bed. What a hell of day. His wounds were aching and he was exhausted. What else could happen now?

 

His stomach groaned.

 

Hmpf. He had to ask.

 

Vegeta sneaked out of his bedroom and peeked from the corridor. The witch was watching TV in the living room. There was no way to go to the kitchen without passing by her. Well, the Prince of All Saiyans wouldn't tip-toe to avoid an insignificant woman. He wasn't that cowardly Kakarott.

 

Bulma was sat on her favorite armchair wearing a very short red dress, a huge bowl with cheetos resting by her side (and she said that HE ate too much!), watching TV. She didn't turn when she heard him approaching.

 

“Hi, Vegeta.” Bulma said mechanically “So you're back?”

 

“lt's obvious. If I'm here, I have come back, so your question is completely unnecessary.”

 

“Yeah, whatever.” She retorted apathetically “Go away, I'm not in the mood to discuss with you.”

 

Barely believing in his luck, Vegeta was more than pleased to go. But instead, he spun around. Something wasn't right. He studied her face more intently. She picked up a cheeto and munched it mechanically, her eyes never leaving the screen, but she wasn't actually paying it attention. Her mind was evidently in somewhere else. Well, that wasn't of his concern. He started to spin toward the kitchen, but his body refused to obey. Idiot, he berated himself. He's supposed to bless his luck for her not using her humiliating trick again or demanding to know where he had been. Instead, he felt bothered with her indifference. Tsc. He never was satisfied.

 

While he wondered about what to do, his stomach groaned again, stimulated by the smell of the potato chips.

 

Bulma knew he was still there, but preferred to ignore him. The last thing she wanted now was another argument with Vegeta. Looked like that was the AMAB Day: the Day of All Men against Bulma.

 

After breaking up with Yamcha for good, she had tried to calm down doing some shopping, but discovered that her wallet had been stolen, probably by the “pretty boy” she had run into. That cost her the rest of her afternoon in a police station waiting to register occurrence. To get even better, the policeman in charge came onto her, and when Bulma turned him down he threatened to arrest her. She presented herself as the famous Bulma Briefs of Capsule Corporation, but, of course... she had no documents to prove it, and the accusation of identity theft was added to disrespecting an authority. If it wasn't for the right of making a call and for her father to resolve the mess, she certainly would be now behind the bars.

 

Men! Feh. A bunch of petty, insensitive, lustful, sexist pigs, that was what all of them were. She didn't want anything to do with any of them again. Her destiny was to be an old maid, she had to accept that and try to be happy alone. Thinking that, she slipped a hand to the bowl of cheetos.

 

A warm, smooth skin brushed against hers. It was like receiving an electrical shock.

 

A pair of blue eyes looked up to meet a pair of black ones. For a moment that lasted years, they stayed frozen in their positions, neither one knowing what to do. Then Vegeta's eyes slide down to their hands, and then to the bandana wrapped around Bulma's arm, a little below the wrist. Ah. Now he remembered. The dumb blonde had said something about it.

"Why did you wrap this cloth around your arm, honey?"

 

“I took a spill, that's all.”

 

She was lying. He knew that she hadn't got injured in a spill... if she was really injured.

 

Unceremoniously, he tore the small cloth off, causing her to scream in pain and protest. His eyes widened up.

 

An extensive, dark-purple bruise marked her delicate arm, right where he had grabbed her arm yesterday. He knew that humans were stupidly fragile, but he had no idea of how much.

 

"Let go! You're breaking my arm!"

 

He had thought that Bulma was making a big deal when she complained he was hurting her, for he practically hadn't used his strength. Now he saw she had been sincere. Only a miracle had kept him from snapping her arm. Then it hit him: why was he so shocked with that simple little spot? All his life he had seen bruises and of all species, mostly of them he had caused himself: pools of blood and gore, dismembered, half-incinerated bodies... He never had cared. So why now? She deserved much worse for the tortures she inflicted on him. However, her bruised arm caused him a strange feeling he never had felt before. Like he had received a hard punch on his stomach. What puzzled him most was that she had deliberately hidden that from her parents. Why? Just for fearing that they'd expel him and he hadn't anywhere to go? Seemed obvious, but his brain refused to accept it. A creature capable of such a low trick like that pee-pee one couldn't have any pity. Or could she?

“Are you happy now?” Bulma snarled as she covered her offended arm “Or would you like to grab my other arm, so you'll complete the pair of purple bracelets? Is that what you want? Is it?” she shook her other arm in front of his face with hysteria.

 

Vegeta said nothing. He felt completely stunned and didn't know what to do. The thing he hated most, even more than Kakarott, was to feel lost that way. His eyes skipped for the TV. It was showing a large green field, with lots of white weird animals on it. They had funny curly hair, very alike something Vegeta had seen before. One of those weird animals appeared by closer, munching with the same placid, indifferent look Bulma wore a few minutes ago. It clicked on him. He looked at her hair, then at the animal, then at her hair again and felt like laughing.

 

“What are you staring at?” she hissed.

 

As a response he pointed at the screen.

“Is it a relative of yours?”

“Huh?” Bulma her eyes from Vegeta to the TV, which was still showing the animals. She went pale. Then she went green. Then crimson.

 

“YOU IGNORANT OAF!!” she screeched with all decibels she had “That is a sheep! A S-H-E-E-P! How do you dare to compare my delicate hair to that filthy ball of wool?”

Vegeta simply smirked.

“I didn't say a word about your hair. It's you who admitted that the comb fits.”

Bulma's cheeks were as red as her dress:

“Just for your information, my hair was done by the best hair-stylist in West City! It's cuddling, pretty and in fashion! And it's not plenty of spikes like a … a hedgehog!

 

He said nothing. Bulma waved a frantic finger in front of his face, with enthusiasm:

 

“Yes, that's what you are! A big, ugly, hedgehog tossing your spikes on everybody who tries to be nice to you! But someday, Vegeta, you'll feel lonely and then no one will want to be around. And when it happens, I'll be there to laugh!”

 

Vegeta crossed his arms very calmly.

“I don't know what a hedgehog is, but the description fits to you. A hedgehog under sheep's wool.” he smirked again.

 

Bulma's eyes widened up. Before Vegeta could react, she grabbed the bowl and buried it on his head, giving him a cheetos shower. Then she stomped her way up to her room, slamming the door as stronger as she could. For a moment she leaned against the door, panting, until her nerves gave up and she started laughing hysterically, her eyes filling with tears again. Quickly, the laughs turned into sobs and she collapsed on her bed.

 

Vegeta tossed the bowl away and shook off the salty little things from his hair and clothes.

“What hell's wrong with those Earth women? Hmpf… worthless, good for nothing creatures. “

 

She was lucky that he was tired and hungry, or he'd give her a good lesson.

 

Vegeta sat on the floor at Indian-style and began to eat the cheetos spread all over the carpet giving occasional glances to the television, which Bulma had left on. The `sheep' animals had been replaced by a man and a woman exchanging what the earthlings and people from a few other planets called a kiss. He just called it foreplay. The face of Bulma appeared in his mind, from the moment when he had pinned her to his bed pretending he wanted to rape her. She had red lips, full but not too thick...probably soft and warm, just like her breas... He seized the control and flicked it for other channel to get rid of the image.

 

Things hadn't been that bad. He had won that greasy salty stuff and had managed to tease the woman without having his dignity hurt by her pee-pee-pee. So... why did he feel that funny sensation in his stomach? He glanced suspiciously at the piece of cheese-made stuff in his hand.

 

Anther thing bothered him, too.

 

What was a hedgehog?

 

*sugar, in Japanese.