Japanese Terms:
Arigato-  Thank You
Baka-  Idiot
-chan-  friendly suffix for a female friend/relative
Chikyuu-  Earth
Chikyuujin-  Earthling
Hai-  Yes
Iie-  No
Kaa-san-  Mother
Kami-sama- God
Konbanwa-  Good Evening/Good Night
Konnichiwa-  Good Day
Nani-  What
Ne-  almost like “huh”, as in “You didn’t think I would, huh?”
Oi-  Hey
Onna-  Woman
Otu-san-  Father
Ouji-  Prince
Saiyajin No Ouji-  Prince of Saiyajins
-san-  respectful suffix used mostly as "Mrs. or Mr."
Shimatta-  Damn Or Damn It
Yaro-  Bastard
 
Disclaimer:  I still don't and never will own the DBZ Universe.  Toriyama-sama does, and Matchbox 20 owns "If You're Gone,".  Enjoy!
 
    Midnight crept into the bedroom between cracked French doors.  Thin velvet
curtains swayed slightly as a cool breeze ran it’s way through the soft fabric and to
Bulma’s nude form.  Goosebumps pricked up upon the onna’s perfect skin as the draft
wafted over her half blanketed body.
        Slowly, she lifted a fragile hand from her side into the vacuous evening air.
Moonlight filtered through the dwelling’s windows and illuminated it’s slim wrist and
dainty fingers in intricate patterns.  The lady lay there, turning her palm every which way,
observing how the pale glow played over her tiny grasp.  Polished nails gave off iridescent
glints and gleams which all seemed to shine far from where she lie.  For some reason, the
onna could hardly recognize the grip as her own.  It seemed more like a vision from a
midsummer’s night dream, cloaked in a mystic allure.
        Silence hung heavily from the rafters, only being cut by one vivid sound.  Aqua
locks falling away from large eyes, Bulma turned to gaze upon the saiyajin no ouji that
slumbered at her side.  Vejita’s muscular build for once was relaxed as he lay on his
stomach, one large arm tossed lazily over the onna’s bare waist. She studied the man’s
calm expression as he slept.  Stone carved features were void of all signs of tension,
looking almost content.  Thick lips were parted, a low snore escaped their keeper.  It was
like a heavy cat’s purr, thick, throaty, and full.
        Choking back a helpless sob, Bulma remembered how much she used to love the
noises Vejita made in his sleep.  The onna would stay up hours after he dozed off, cuddled
close to his warm body, listening to the feline-like intonation.  Many happy memories were
made by simply letting that deep rumbling note lull her into a serene dreamworld.
        That was when the couple had first begun to sleep together.  Now, the sound only
instilled a gradually throbbing pain inside her chest.  With every one of his coarse breaths,
morning neared.  When it dawned Bulma knew she would have to live another solitary day
and spend another empty night with the ouji.
        Maybe if he wasn’t so cold the lady wouldn’t constantly feel so hopeless.  Vejita
was always so callous during daylight, as if he was born of grit and steel rather than flesh
and blood.  You know, I never expected you to change...  she thought, wistfully reaching
to brush his widow’s peak gently with her knuckles.
        The action caused another flood of emotions to wash over the onna’s body.  Anger
at the both of them sucker punched her gut, physically knocking air from her lungs.  It was
edged with confusion about how their lives ever twisted into this pitifully relationship.
The now familiar weight of sorrow crushed Bulma as rough tears ravaged her fragile
cerulean eyes.  She let them run down pale cheeks without a sound.
        Then, slipping into the onna without warning, the empty tinge of loneliness
dominated her senses.  No matter what she did, at the end of the day the terrible feeling
always returned.  It frustrated the lady to no end.  Having a man so close, yet feeling like
he was always miles from where she stood.
        Drowning in the consuming ugliness of vile feeling, Bulma exhausted herself.  She
didn’t want to think about the rigors of reality anymore that night.  Turning away from the
ouji, Bulma didn’t bother to wipe away the remnants of her latest emotional battle.  ...I
only hoped...  was the lady’s last coherent thought before falling into a fitful dreamless
slumber.

        With an exaggerated yawn,  Vejita lifted his heavy warrior’s build from the silk
sheets.  As he rubbed the last shards of sleep from dark eyes with a large hand, the ouji
turned to look where Bulma normally slept in the soft sheen of warm blankets.  A barely
noticeable imprint grazed the lavish mattress beside him.
        Surprised, the saiyajin slowly traced the odd shape with his battle worn fingers.
Strange.  The lively onna had awaken before him.  Even though the two were both
normally early risers,  the blue banged lady was rarely up before her wild haired counter
part.
        In fact, as Vejita sat thinking, he couldn’t remember one instance since Cell Game
ended some months ago where she had been up before him.  Usually the saiyajin no ouji
woke with the first rays of light that entered their large bedroom.  Then, the man would
promptly dress and finally fly from the onna’s cool metal balcony to the gravity room
where he’d spend a majority of the day.
        There wasn’t much else to do with Cell obliterated from the universe.  Trunks,
now about a year and a half old, was still too young to train even by saiyajin standards.
Vejita had briefly considered spending time with Bulma before hastily pushing the thought
from his mind.
        There was no point in denying he and Chikyuujin had bonded.  The ouji had
already come to that conclusion.  He was, though, at a loss of how to deal with the
development.  Bonding was a genetic weakness that had supposedly been bred out of the
royal lineage centuries ago.  But, for whatever reason, it had returned in his blood.  That
fact was more annoying to him than the gullibility Chikyuujins, who honestly believed the
baka Mr. Satan had saved their world from ultimate destruction.
        Continuing to trace the soft lines Bulma had left in the silk sheets, Vejita straitened
up.  A tantalizing scent from the downstairs kitchen found it’s way through the cracked
bedroom door and to the saiyajin’s sensitive nostrils.  The smell of salty bacon and thick
pancakes began to fill the room.  Nani?  She’s cooking on her own freewill!?
        The onna never prepared food without him ordering it of her.  Even then, most of
the time the ouji would end up foraging the fridge to find his own meal.  Seeing as that
Bulma’s otu-san and kaa-san were out of the country for a few weeks, she was the only
one left in the house that could cook.
        Finally getting out of the feathery bed, Vejita grabbed a pair of dark pajama pants
at his feet.  Hastily, he pulled the garment on and tied the waistband in a tight knot.  With
a few long strides the saiyajin no ouji was at the entrance of the room.  Not bothering to
shut the door behind him, he began to walk down the long row of stairs to the kitchen
below.

        Bulma’s slim back was to the saiyajin as he entered the bright kitchen.  Soft
morning streaks shone through the small window above the glistening steel sink.  The light
reflected off an ornate sun-catcher, sending different colored beams all across the spotless
room.
        Standing silently in front of the oven’s burners, the onna was set at tossing fluffy
golden pancakes and frying fat stripes of bacon.  A bowl covered in slick batter sat
discarded on the counter next to her as flashes of forest green and auburn red shines
danced in the lady’s cyan hair.  It was pulled away from sea shaded eyes into a frizzy mess
by a single clip.  Plush clung to her body in the form of an eggshell hued sleeping robe.
        Upon entering, the ouji immediately noticed the absence of Bulma’s high pitched
squeal.  There were no greetings for him this morning.  The only recognition of his
presence was the crisp crackles of the bacon cooking.
        “Oi onna, what’s your problem?,”  he asked nonchalantly.  Vejita’s voice wouldn’t
betray him uneasiness with the situation.  Tension seemed to smother the saiyajin’s
intuition as he took his seat at the kitchen table.  Nervously tapping a large index finger
against it’s smooth top, the ouji waited for the answer that never came.
        The coffemaker gurgled to a start as it began to dispense murky liquid into a bright
yellow mug which, somehow, didn’t fit the agitated mood of the kitchen.
        “Hmph.  You’re up early.,”  he spoke as Bulma reached into a high cupboard to
grab a large plate.  Placing it flat on the counter with some noise, she shut off the stove’s
burners and began to stack perfectly cooked pancakes and rich slabs of bacon on the
platter.
        “I didn’t feel like being abandoned today.,”  She spoke softly, sorrow playing in
the undertones of her normally cheerful speech.  The onna grabbed the unusual mug from
the coffemaker as she balanced Vejita’s breakfast in one hand before setting the overly
piled dish in front of him.  Nani?  he thought, caught utterly off guard by her comment.
        Ebony eyes followed the lady as she seated herself across from him, refusing to
meet their gaze.  Bulma just slouched in the kitchen chair while wrapping her long fingers
around the coffee cup, gripping it for dear life.  Vejita tried his best to ignore how frail and
hopelessly sad she looked just then.  Eating quickly, the saiyajin kept pushing his mind
toward the training he would be doing that day.
        The trick didn’t work as well as he had hoped, though.
        “Onna--,”  a soft crying interrupted him.  It’s vivacious tone cracked the air around
the couple.  Bulma jumped at it, as if the wail had just saved her life.
        “Trunks needs me.,”  The words desperately spilled from her pursed lips in a
jumble.  It seemed like she was looking for an excuse to flee from the man.  The onna
practically ran from the room, only leaving the retreating sound of padded steps in her
wake.

        Floating millimeters above the carpeting in front of his son’s room so as not to be
heard, Vejita peeked into the dismal setting.  The heavy velvet curtains were drawn to
cloak kaa-san and child in shadow.  Clutching the infant to her chest, Bulma gently rocked
the small thing back and forth in a soothing manner.  A low humming came from her pale
form.  It’s melody felt like Deja vu to the saiyajin, but he couldn’t quite place exactly
where he heard the haunting tune before.
        Eyelids shut, the beautiful baby boy nestled against his kaa-san’s breast as he
relaxed his little body into a peaceful nap.  The scene was serene in a melancholy fashion.
Vejita gradually lowered himself to the floor as the child sat up and gave out a short cry.
Bulma turned to see the ouji standing sternly by the open bedroom door.  Her breath
caught as he only stared blankly.  For lack of anything better to do, the man let his brow
furrow and a tiny frown creep onto his lips.
        For the first time that morning, Bulma’s cerulean stare met the ouji’s.  Conflicting
emotions could be easily distinguish in her restless features.  Anger burned it’s way over
the onna’s face, causing her mouth to form a stiff line.  A sheet of exhaustion dulled her
normally radiant glow.
        The one that surprised him most, though, was the naked look of unadulterated
pain.  Vejita had seen the onna broken and depressed before, when she had been deceived
by Yamcha.  But, Bulma had never once looked that intense into his midnight glare.  Their
bond could be clouding his normally clear mind, but the saiyajin didn’t have time to think
about that aspect of the situation.
        Bulma strode to the room’s entrance.  Her legs never quivered once before she
stood, inches away from him.  With Trunks still in her arms, his bright blue eyes looking
everywhere at once,  she grasped the shiny door knob.  Spidery fingers slipped around the
cool metal.  Not once breaking their gaze, the onna slowly pushed the painted door shut.
Vejita only blinked as he heard the clean sound of the lock clicking into place.

        The shower sprayed a few stray strands of water before sputtering to a stop.
Vejita let the last of the warm liquid wrap it’s way down his slick body before pushing the
now opaque glass doors of the shower stall open.  Stepping out, the saiyajin gave a short
flare of his ki to dry off.  Steam glistened in the air,  frail breaths darted around the ouji as
he walked to the bathroom’s counter.
        After the odd breakfast and silent confrontation, the man had retreated to the
comfort of the gravity chamber to train their memory away.  If the onna wanted to be
difficult, he wasn’t going to interfere.  Just because they were bonded didn’t mean he had
to deal with every one of her little melodramas.  Even after getting a door disrespectfully
shut in his face, Vejita decided not to rip the contraption off it’s hinges and instead let
Bulma be.  He could teach her the proper respect for a saiyajin no ouji later.
        At least, that was what the saiyajin had planned to do.  But punch after punch, kick
after kick, his mind drifted back to the way the aqua haired lady had looked at the kitchen
table that morning.  It was as if she’d break into a thousand pieces with just a wrong
glance sent her way.  The sight troubled him, that she would allow herself to look so
weak, especially in front of him.  Bulma knew the man would only reprimand her for it.
        Sighing as he pressed the gleaming shut down button, Vejita decided that his
waning concentration wasn’t going to let him train that day.  He might as well take a hot
shower and maybe, if she started a conversation with him, find out what was wrong with
his mate.

        The ouji grabbed the garments that lay in a neat pile next to him on the counter.
He quickly slid on a loose pair of gray pants, buttoning them up the front, and then pulled
a snug black tank top over his stark hair onto his overly muscular chest.  Reaching out to
open the door, Vejita exited the bathroom as clouds of steam writhed and dispersed into
the hallway’s cool air current.
        As he walked, the saiyajin tensed suddenly just as he was coming up to Trunks’s
room.  For the first time since the brat was born, the ouji’s battle senses could not pick up
the child’s growing ki.  A stab of paternal fear struck Vejita as his stomach lurched.
Without a second thought, he barreled down the rest of the tight corridor and burst
through the now unlocked door into the place were his son should have been sleeping.
        Staring at the sight before him, the man could only look to his mate.  Bulma sat in
a metal chair, still dressed in the fluffy robe with a mess of blue locks escaping their secure
clip at the base of her neck.  Next to the onna was a rosewood crib, empty and silent.
Fingers, lengthy and slim, traced the lines of an imprint that the lavender headed child had
left.  The infant was nowhere to be found.  Only a slight indent in the soft blankets
remained.
        “Onna!,”  he barked, trying to pull Bulma out of her trance.
        “Onna, where is my son?,”  his tone was threatening, even though he knew she
couldn’t be intimidated that easily.  What little parenting instincts the ouji contained along
with his steadily growing temper mixed, making his voice loud and harsh.
Eyes still downcast to where the child had been laying not long before, she replied
calmly,
        “I sent him to stay with the Son’s.,”

        “Nani?,”  Vejita asked, his speech chilled like ice.  He couldn’t believe what she
had just said.  The onna had sent their son away to Kakorotto’s mate without even so
much as telling him!  Shifting to stand a little taller, the ouji waited for an explanation.
How dare she.  It wasn’t like he sent a lot of time with the brat, but it was the man’s child.
Obsidian eyes danced with anger as Bulma turned to face him.
        A small breath roughly caught in the saiyajin’s throat.  Her normally rosy cheeks
were drained of all their color, leaving pale husks taunt from the frown that tugged at the
corners of ashen lips.  Darkened blue eyes returned his stern gaze.
        “Chi-Chi came to pick him up while you were in the shower.  She will be taking
care of him with Gohan’s help.,”  A hint of rage rasped at her voice as she spoke.  Fists
balled and knuckles white, he growled his response.
        “Why!?,”
        The onna stood suddenly.  Her own temper now flaring out of control as she
moved toward him.  Heated words were thrown from Bulma’s lips.
        “Why!?  You have the gall to ask me why I did what I thought was best for my
son!?  Why I had him removed from this house, like I didn’t have the right!?,”
        The shocking sound of skin contacting skin echoed throughout the house as the
onna raised her hand and brought it down on the saiyajin’s left cheek.  The slap was hard,
forcing Vejita to drop his normal mask of confidence for a split second as his face turned.
It wasn’t it’s strength that surprised him, it was the brave action itself.
        “It’s because of you, yaro!  It’s because I don’t want him here with an otu-san like
you!,”
        She might as well have speared at him with a rusty rapier.  The animosity in her
voice sunk deep into the ouji, making his heart beat faster.  Carefully composing himself,
Vejita turned to glare back at the onna with his inky eyes.
        “And... And when I’m around you...,” Bulma’s venom ran dry as unshed tears
threaten to overflow.  She swallowed a shattering sob.
        “I’m not a good kaa-san.,”

        Vejita let the onna’s slim form easily pass him as she ran from the room.  Tiny
droplets splashed onto his bear shoulder.  Salty tears wetted the ouji’s thick skin as he
brushed them off in a single motion.  Rubbing the residue between his chubby fingers, a
slight throb began to beat inside the saiyajin’s chest.  Where in hell did that come from?
        As he thought, the pain steadily increased.  Kuso!   Vejita knew the sensation
could only be caused by their bond.  That worried him.  If I can feel her within me...  Then
this isn’t one of that onna’s normal outbursts.  It had to be much more serious then their
regular verbal spars.
        Turning to follow her, the saiyajin wondered why their bond hadn’t warned him of
Bulma’s feelings before then.  Remembering the hateful intonation in her voice, a powerful
shiver raced down his sculpted back as he descended the staircase.
        What had the man done that caused the onna so much rage?  True, he had been
training as hard as when Mirei no Trunks’s warned the Z senshi about the androids three
and a half years ago.  But, why would that cause her such pain?  A warrior had to keep
their body in prime shape, even in times of peace.  Besides, the ouji returned to Bulma’s
room every night where they always made love before falling asleep.  Wasn’t that enough?
        Vejita reached the bottom of the staircase.  Slowly he stepped into the living room
where he saw Bulma, hunched over with her small hands covering her crying face, sitting
on a large gray toned couch.

         Vejita had to fight the unwavering urge to sit himself next to Bulma and comfort
the broken onna.  She looked more helpless than she had back on Nameku-sei years ago.
Instead he stood by her silently, thick arms crossed in their normal position on his chest.
        Desperate gasps escaped the onna’s heaving chest as she took her hands away
from her pallid face and forced herself to sit up.  Stomach twisting into a burning knot, she
looked to the man’s remaining icy glare.  Every part of Bulma’s delicate body seemed to
be aching, even her eyes, as she began to speak.
        “I can’t do this.,”
        Heart tightening, Vejita still would not give into the assault of emotions that now
plagued him.  He only flashed a deep scowl.
        “Do what?,” he asked in as calm a tone he could muster.  The ouji won’t let a
thread of feeling pass through his carefully crafted persona.
        “I can’t live like this any longer, not with you.,”

        The navy carpeting beneath the saiyajin’s feet began to swim.  Walls imploded and
colors inverted as he shut his eyes, desperately trying to get his askew bearings back.
Silently counting to three Vejita slowed his rapid breathing and reopened his gaze, the
living room normal once again.  What in the hell!?
        “I’ve reached my breaking point, Vejita.  I can’t handle another day like this with
you.,” she began in a bittersweet tone.
        “Things were so different when we started together.  I mean, you still trained, I
still worked, and we still argued constantly, but we weren’t anything like we are now.,”
        Bulma summoned the strength to stand and face him.  Shakily, she stood.  Biting
her lip slightly, the onna continued.
        “Both of us were so lonely back then.  That’s how we started.  We both need to be
comforted, and cared for, and touched.,”  Symbolically, she brushed a stray blue lock
away from her eyes, letting her fingers trace the shaped of her cheek.
        “We fell into passion.  Making love was always special, even you can’t deny that.,”
        Vejita gave a small snort.  It was true, the Chikyuujin was the best partner he had
ever been with.  Bulma wasn’t a saiyajin, so she didn’t feel or move or act like one in bed.
She was tender, fluid, and sensual, everything that onnas of his own race were not.  The
ouji had never felt so close to anyone else he had ever slept with.
        “Most importantly, though,” she continued sadly “I never once doubted you cared
for me.,”

        “Now, I doubt you even have the ability to care.,”  Little by little, anger crept it’s
way into Bulma’s words.
        “You lock yourself in your damn gravity room all day, away from Trunks and me!
At night you only come back to me so we can..,”  She stopped for a moment to cover her
face yet again with smooth palms.
        “Kami-sama!  I can’t even call it making love, anymore.  I just lay there while you
take your pleasure.,”  Forcing her hands back down to her sides, Bulma looked Vejita in
the eye once more and spat;
        “We screw!  We screw until you get tired and doze off so you can wake up early
the next morning and start the cycle over again!
        “That’s exactly what Yamcha did to me!  The only difference is your mistresses are
training and pride.,”  Tears began to cloud her vision as she continued.
        “Even worse, you never spend time with your son.  He’s young, be he still needs
you!  I won’t let him grow up in a house where his otu-san is either never around or
constantly fighting with his kaa-san.  I refuse to Vejita!,”
        Their bond torn at his chest, it throbbed with every accusation she made that he
couldn’t deny.  The ouji growled in spite of it, though.
        “Onna, you knew what I was when we started.  I never once deceived you!  Unlike
that weakling former mate of yours-,”
        “Iie.” Bulma spoke softly, cutting him off.
        “You’ve become indifferent to me, just like he did.  You are no better than
Yamcha.,”

       “You know...,”  her voice cracked suddenly as salty teardrops spilt over the
onna’s pale cheeks.  They dripped like crystals from her chin onto the plush robe she
wore, evaporating into the soft fabric.
        “...I used to believe that a fake anything was better than a real nothing.,”
Bulma closed her eyes languidly and took the deepest breath she had ever taken in
her life.
        “And that’s why I’m leaving you, Vejita.  Today, right now.,” cerulean eyes shot
open to make contact with the saiyajin’s ebony gaze.  This time, he made no effort to hide
his astonishment.
        “Because, I know better than that now.  I know I’d rather live forever alone
wanting something I can never have, a man who will love me, than live one more day with
you having something I never wanted...,”  Bulma’s voice dropped so low that Vejita may
not have been able to hear it had he not been a saiyajin.
        “...a man who can’t love me.,”

        The onna stepped swiftly pass the shocked ouji.  She walked to the darkened
staircase and began to ascend it, never once looking back.
        Vejita somehow found his way to the gray couch and sat in the same soft spot his
mate had been sitting minutes before.  Bulma’s leaving me?  The ouji could only stare at
the void of carpeting in front of him as a thousand questions dashed through the saiyajin’s
head.  Mainly;  How could she?
        On Vejita-sei, breaking a bond was impossible.  Both partners would suffer serious
physical and emotional pain if they ever tried to leave each other.  In many cases the
symptoms either directly caused the death of a mate, or forced them to take their own
lives.  That was exactly why bonding was a weakness, it could literally kill a saiyajin.  Not
only that, the death itself was more painful than the messiest of ki blasts.
        Bulma soon returned down the stairs.  She had changed into a pair of slim cut
faded jeans and a wrinkled Capsule Corp T-shirt.  Under each arm the onna carried a jam
packed leather suitcase.
        Making her way to the door, she was unaware that with each step pain cut deep in
Vejita’s chest.  He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her.
        “Sayonara, Saiyajin no Ouji.,”
        The front door slid nearly silently open and shut, save for a small whoosh of
compressed air.  Afterwards, only the electrical hum of an air conditioner echoed
throughout the almost empty house.
        When Vejita was sure he had heard Bulma pop her air car capsule and load
luggage into it’s back, he stood.  Slowly, he went to the window as the vehicle’s jets
whizzed to a start.  Parting the dark curtains easily, the man peeked out to see the car float
into a thick patch of forest that lined the compound and out of his sight.
        For the first time since Furiza had taken him from his home planet as a child, Vejita
felt lost.  His eyes began to itch unnaturally.  The ouji turned abruptly and rubbed the
feeling out of them with the back of a large hand.
        The saiyajin decided he should take advantage of this... opportunity... to get some
hard training done.  There was no onna around to scream at him for getting scraps and
bruises, or to interrupt him with an annoying plea to get some sleep.  Without anyone in
the mansion he could workout all day and night without being bothered.  What do I care if
that baka onna leaves!?  I’ll finally get some peace and quiet!

        “KUSO!,”  Vejita roared, firing a barrage of large ki blasts from his strong hands.
The energy cast an eerie royal blue glow around the gravity chamber as they circled the
mechanical training ground.
        Grinding his pointed teeth, the ouji crossed his muscular arms in front of him at the
wrists.  A shield of reflective ki formed from the motion.  It pulsated before the warrior as
his aggressive frustration mounted.  The man’s reflexes weren’t nearly as sharp as they
usually were and his mind continued to lose it’s steel concentration.
        Pulling his arms back to his sides with a shout, the saiyajin forced the massive
shield forward into the now advancing balls of ki.  The energies made an explosive
collision as a giant array of sparks shot down onto Vejita like rain.  He had miss judged
their strength, though, for five ominous blasts still headed straight for him.
        Screaming, the saiyajin’s formerly cobalt aura sprang into a golden blaze.  The
fatal ki attacks were reflected in all directions from the magnitude of his power.  Each
crashed into part of the circular chamber’s wall as Vejita’s wild hair switched shades from
a soulless black to platinum blond.  Aquamarine eyes watched the domed ceiling as it
cracked into intricate spider web patterns before blowing out entirely from the super
saiyajin’s immense ki.
        Walls began to disintegrate around the ouji as he fell to his knees.  They crumbled
under their own weight, shattering strait to the ground just like a sand castle’s crushed
structure.  Vejita’s shrouded energy dispersed as his chest heaved and white dots broke
into his vision.  With hair and eyes both ebony once again, pain splintered throughout the
ouji’s body forcing the man to fall down on all fours.  Shards of plexiglas and shrapnel
assaulted his steadily rising and falling back.
        That shouldn’t have taken this much energy.  Vejita thought, still trying to catch
his racing breath.  It felt as if some mysterious assailant was ripping his ki out through his
breast.  Bending a heavy neck, the ouji rested his large forehead atop the cracked tiles of
the chamber’s remaining floor.
        He tried to ignore the sharp bits of debris that sliced their way through his tanned
skin.  The air around the ouji’s form suddenly seemed thick and sour.  It was sucked in by
quick gasps, where it then enter the man’s lungs, and seemed to hang and condense.
        “Shi-Shimatta!,”  Vejita stammered as he could do nothing but fight off the nearing
sensation of suffocating with every shallow breath.

        As Bulma pulled up to the Son’s residence, she had to fight off the overpowering
desire to turn the air car around and flee back to Capsule Corp grounds.  Gripping the
smooth plastic steering wheel, the onna made her way rigidly forward.  I won’t go back.
she chided herself while parking the hover vehicle next to a large oak tree just to the right
of the country house.
        Jumping out of her the car, the onna felt utterly exhausted as she removed her
heavy suitcases from it’s trunk.  Cursing herself for not capsuling the large bags, Bulma
realized she didn’t even have the energy left to cry.  All the lady wanted to do was return
home in reach of the arrogant saiyajin’s secure arms.  But, wishes like that never come
true...
        Pushing a stray cyan lock away from her face, the onna could already hear the
energetic shouts of a young warrior even before he showed his face.  Gohan ran outside
his home happily to meet Bulma, dark hair rustling gentle as he moved.
        “Konbanwa Bulma-san!,”  echoed his young voice cheerfully as he took her
luggage.  Looking to the horizon, she noticed that dusk’s amber glow was quickly being
eaten away by night’s shadow.  It was indeed evening.
        Where had all the time gone?  It hadn’t felt like that long of a drive.  When she
thought about it, Bulma realized Chi-Chi did live a ways away from her mansion.  The air
car ride was just a blur in the onna’s fuzzy memory.
        “Konbanwa Gohan-chan.,” she answered him back, plastering a fake grin almost as
bad as Brief-san’s, on her face.  The last thing the onna felt like doing was smiling.
        Following the boy into his mountain house, Bulma stole one last glance out at the
diminishing fiery sunset.  I won’t be the first one to break.

       Irritatingly joyous notes sung through the small open window next to Bulma’s
bed.  Morning streaks spilt onto the wooden floor boards of the warm room as it slowly
began to fill with light.
        Grumbling, the onna tried to shut out the new day by covering her sea stained head
with a feather pillow.  She hadn’t had much sleep.  Translucent memories torn at her mind
throughout the night before, causing rough tears Bulma didn’t even know she had to
cascaded down her raw cheeks.
        Giving up the losing battle against dawn, the onna threw the soft pillow in the
general direction of the windowsill.  Her aim being totally off, it did nothing to quiet the
twittering creature singing in it’s tree.
        Sighing heavily, Bulma pushed herself into a sitting position.  Every inch of the
onna dully throbbed from sleeping on an unfamiliar mattress.  She stretched to rid herself
of the pain, wincing at the soft sounds of bones and joints cracking as she did so.
        Raising a hand to her tired face, the onna rubbed the last bit of fitful sleep from
aqua eyes.  She already knew they must be puffy and pink from her excessive crying the
day before.
        Shuffling around in the open leather suitcase at her feet, the onna soon found a
hand held mirror.  Grimacing, she took in her reflection.  Along with the earlier fears, dark
purplish circles drooped just above Bulma’s cheek bones.  Thick blue locks lay matted to
her head, their ends feathering out every which way.  The only good thing about the image
seemed to be that it showed her pale face was slowly returning to it’s usual rosy tone.
        If Vejita could only see me now!  she mused silently.  He’d never let me live this
down.  The onna made a small sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as the mirror
dropped back into her bag with a muffled plop.  Grabbing a heavy velvet robe from the
suitcase, she stood.  Quickly shrugging the soft violet material over her bear shoulders,
Bulma tied the waistband tight to obscure the view of her barely decent silver nightie.
        Opening the door to her room, the delicious aroma of Chi-Chi’s homemade
breakfast drifted past the onna’s petite nose.  The scent of seasoned eggs and mixed
greens picked at every one of her taste buds.  A tiny grin broke through Bulma’s stern
expression as she leaned against the door frame, savoring the smell of her friend’s great
cooking.
        She was forced to give herself a mental slap.  Kami-sama Bulma, it’s just
breakfast!  You’re as bad as Vejita around a meal!  the onna reprimanded herself as she
padded down the deserted hallway to the lively kitchen.

        Sizzling frying pans and clattering utensils filled the kitchen with a jagged
rhythm as Bulma entered.  Her friend was quite busy putting the finishing touches on some
brightly shaded omelets.  Chi-Chi grabbed a couple shiny plates from the counter next to
her and turned to place them on a small table when she noticed the aqua banged onna
already sitting silently there.
        “Ohayo Bulma-chan!,”  Chi-Chi greeted her with a happy tone and a warm smile.
She set a dish in front of Bulma as the onna yawned widely.
        “Ohayo Chi-chan.,”  she replied, groggy with her eyelids squinted.
        Giving her a worried look, the lady turned back to the stove, raven hair pinned
tightly to the top of her head in a neat bun.
        “I was going to let you sleep in this morning.  I even sent Gohan out grocery
shopping so he wouldn’t wake you.,”  Chi-Chi knew that no matter how hard she pushed
her child to study, he had too much of his otu-san in him not to sneak around and train
behind her back.  She figured Bulma probably had a bad enough night without having to
wake to the shattering crash of a large ki blast just outside her window.
        Watching Chi-Chi work, the onna noticed how the lady seemed to almost glow.
But, it wasn’t from the murky sunlight that tried to penetrate the small steamed up kitchen
window.  Pregnancy will do that to you.  Bulma thought to herself, reminiscing  the days
when she had been caring Trunks.  My skin was so clear then, even Vejita gave me one of
his sorry excuses for a compliment.  Propping her smooth elbows up on the rough
wooden table, she rested her head in her small hands.
        Bulma pursed her thick lips slightly as she watched Chi-Chi pulled a long white
spatula out of a small kitchen drawer.  How can she do it all? the onna wondered.  She
knew how hard it was to prepare enough food for one saiyajin, the lady couldn’t even
begin to imagine how much her friend had to cook when Son-kun had been around.  The
former warrior even managed to raise a child by herself while being six months pregnant
with another.  Plus, the fact that Chi-Chi did all of those things while still managing to
keep her house spotless amazed Bulma even more.
        “You’re damned country birds woke me up.,” the onna explained jokingly.
        “Can I help you with anything?,” she was suddenly embarrassed that the pregnant
lady was doing all of the work.
        “Iie.,” replied Chi-Chi as she shut off the stove’s burners, dancing blue flames
disappearing from sight.
        “I’m done.,”  Taking a large steel frying pan into her right hand, she walked over
to the kitchen table and placed a scrumptious looking omelet on each of their plates.
        “Arigato.,”  Thanked Bulma as she began to dig into the wonderfully scented
breakfast.
        Chi-Chi sat carefully down, enlarged stomach making the task cumbersome, and
tried to comfort her rueful friend.
        “Poor dear, thoughts of that baka kept slithering their way into your head all night,
ne?  I told you to just leave that monster a note, but you insisted on telling the thing you
were leaving him in person.,”
        The onna could only shoot her friend an exasperated look as she tried to finish  a
mouthful of egg and peppers.  The pregnant lady never hid her distaste for the saiyajin no
ouji.  It was an understandable hatred, but that made it no less annoying.
        “Chi-Chi, he deserved at least that.,”  Bulma tried to explain in a low pleading
voice.
        “I don’t see why!,”  interjected the raven headed onna with passionate fire flaring
in her dark eyes.
        “He’s rude, arrogant, cruel, and those are his good points!  That ‘man,’ has been
nothing but trouble since the day his hard head hit Chikyuu!  He’s the original reason my
Gohan had to become a warrior.  Not to mention, the millions of lives he’s massacred
across the galaxy.  Plus the fact he’s tried to kill  MY HUSBAND numerous times---,”
        “Vejita’s different now!,” defended Bulma, her volume rising to Chi-Chi’s level.
        “He saved Son-kun’s life when he was battling #19!  And that ‘monster,’ also
fought along side of the Z warriors against Cell!  He almost lost his life for the sake of
Chikyuu!  What more proof do you need?,”
        “It was his fault Cell became perfect in the first place!!,”  spat the pregnant onna.
        Silence overtook the scene.  The two sat uncomfortably in quiet for quite some
time after that.  Neither was willing to budge on their opinion of the saiyajin in question.
        Suddenly, a high pitched wail pierced through the tension laden air.  It came from
the shadowed hallway behind the friends.
        “Trunks needs to be feed.,”  Bulma explained simply as she stood to retrieve the
baby formula left back in her room.  The onna recognized her child’s odd ability to save
her from unpleasant situations.
        “Wait.,”  Chichi chimed after her friend.  She carefully rose from her seat and
walked over to the kitchen’s large cast iron sink.  In a quick motion, the onna pulled a
small baby’s bottle out from a previously unseen black pot of steamy water that set inside
it.
        Holding one strong arm strait, Chi-Chi squeezed a few tiny droplets of warm milk
onto her dainty wrist.  Finding the liquid at a perfect temperature, she wiped the moist
container on her soft apron and thrust it into Bulma’s hands.
        “You didn’t think I was going to let the poor boy go hungry, ne?,”  she question,
quirking a thin black brow at her friend.
        Bulma graced the onna with an honest smile.
        “Chi-chan, you’re an angel.,”  She thanked, turning to walk down the short
corridor to the boisterous room where her son was crying out for his kaa-san.
        The tanned door swung lazily open as Bulma stepped into the cozy space.
Sunlight glittered through a crystal clear window, half obscured by flowing crimson
curtains.  Dust particles were illuminated as they wafted carelessly around the comforting
scene.  A tall multi-drawer dresser sat alone against the adjacent wall, while a tough
mahogany crib stood stoically to it’s opposite.  The only other piece of furnishing in the
room was an antique looking rocking chair placed next to the screaming child’s bed.
        Trunks bellowed, tiny fists balled and waving wildly through the thin air.  He
calmed to a dull murmur as his kaa-san approached.  The onna lifted the infant to her chest
and wrapped delicate arms around him as she sat back in the cushioned rocker.
        “That’s my boy.,”  Bulma purred, placing the bottle between his small lips.  The
baby took it into his chubby red hands and greedily suckled at the sweet milk.  A bead of
runny liquid escaped the plundering mouth and ran it’s way down his round tender cheek.
        Giggling, the onna wiped the wetness away with a gentle motion as she thought of
how much the child was already like Vejita.  Trunks had inherited the same chiseled
features as his saiyajin otu-san, stark and noticeable even at his age.  He also definitely
received the ouji’s intense stare.  Bulma had already been caught in the boy’s royal blue
eyes quite a few times since his birth.  As young as he was, there were a few moments
where she could swear he was looking right into the onna’s soul.
        A firm difference remained between her son’s serene look and Vejita’s ebony
abyss, though.  Flecks of a new hope shone in Trunks’s beautiful eyes, along with a
palpable kindness in their depth.  Her mate’s cold glare was always haunted with fleeting
memories and hidden turmoil.  They hardly ever revealed the slightest bit of sympathy, let
alone caring.
        The baby squinted in pleasure, his stomach now full.  Ethereally, Bulma began to
rock back and forth in the old chair.  Trunks was beginning to lull into a peaceful slumber,
when a small arm shot out to grasp one of the onna’s slim fingers with his entire fist.
        Surprised, she brought her rocking to an immediate stop.  Looking down, the lady
noticed that her son had indeed fallen asleep holding on to his kaa-san.  Bulma stood
slowly and carefully replaced the infant back in the warm crib.  She gingerly removed her
finger from his hold, which was more difficult than she imagined with him being half
saiyajin.  Pulling soft blankets over the child’s shoulders, the onna sighed contentedly.
        Brushing thick lips over a lavender banged forehead, she whispered;
        “Aishiteru, my son.  I don’t understand why your otu-san can’t.,”

        Lying back on a hand stitched quilt, Bulma watched silently as an amber glow
fought the approaching darkness across her ceiling.  Candles on the bed stand that sat next
to the onna burnt passionately as she simply lay, observing.  Night clashed against the
bitter flames as they would flicker, wither, then ignite again in a resilient act to fend off the
consuming shadows.
        It had been an entire week since her departure and not once did Vejita even
attempt to bring the onna home.  Cerulean locks shrouded Bulma’s worried face as yellow
and red brilliance played along it’s rigid contour.
        A sharp roar of knocking broke her stream of consciousness.  Abruptly, she sat
strait up and told the person to enter while rubbing the stiffness from her slim neck.
        Chi-Chi, dressed in a simple white cotton night gown that stretched at her
oversized belly and hung from her pregnant form, entered the dimly lit room.
        “I thought you where still awake.,”  she spoke quietly, since Gohan had already
gone to bed.
        “Hai, I haven’t been getting much sleep lately.,” Bulma answered as she ran
lengthy fingers through aqua tresses, trying to rid them of snarls.
        Sitting down on the blanketed bed next to her friend, Chi-Chi noticed the glazed
and pain tainted gleam in the onna’s eyes.  Frowning tightly, she tried to console Bulma.
        “You know,” the lady started as Bulma shifted her long legs into an Indian sit “as
much as I hate that conceded saiyajin, I think you should talk to him.  You’re really
worrying me---,”  The onna’s eyes flashed in anger.
        “Absolutely not!  I’ve tried to reach out to Vejita more than enough times.,”  She
pushed herself off the mattress and began to pace around the small room with arms
crossed at her breast.
        “If he truly cares about me, he’ll find his own way here...,” trailed off the onna as
she reached the darkened windowsill and halted.  Bulma gazed up into the endless inky
sky.  It’s only potch mark was the stark white moon that shone in a surreal misty glow.
Her voice continued in just above a whisper.
        “...If he doesn’t, then I don’t need him.,”

        “Bulma-chan.,” Chi-Chi cooed.  She stood and drifted over to her friend, putting a
warm hand atop the lady’s tense shoulder.
        “You know you can stay in this house as long as you need to, but you can’t live
here forever.  What are you going to do if he doesn’t come?,”
        “I don’t know.,”  Bulma rasped, throat going dry and heart wrenching at the
thought.
        “I just don’t know.,”  She turned to face the pregnant onna.
        “But I’m sure that I can’t go back home.  You’ve been so kind Chi-chan, but you
don’t understand!  This is a decision Vejita has to make on his own!,”  Burning tears
sprang from her large eye’s as she tried to explain.  Emotions ran rampant in the tired
voice.
        “I can’t go on living the life we had together..,”  Bulma spoke, the sensitive pads
of her fingertips resting on the spot over her heart.
        “...and I’m still hoping, some where inside of him, he can’t either.,”

        Hastily, Vejita stood.  The saiyajin began to walk out of the stainless kitchen when
an unseen force collided with him.  Immense pressure assaulted the man, pressing him
forward onto worn knees.  Cursing, another retaliation of the ouji’s bond began to wreck
it’s havoc.
        In this trial, he felt as if the weight of the world was literally resting on his sturdy
shoulders.  Tons of mass pounded down atop Vejita’s crouching form.  Stiffening, the
saiyajin tried his best to defy the invisible power by attempting to stand under it’s heft.  As
punishment, the man was smashed violently downwards onto the cold surface of the
room’s floor.  Lying on his hard stomach, the saiyajin was now totally horizontal.
        Vejita could only wait on the still linoleum for the crushing sensation to pass.
With one last devastating blow that the ouji swore had broken a majority of his ribs, the
fierce symptom released it’s hold on the host.  Breathing rapidly, the saiyajin had to rest
on the kitchen floor for a few minutes before carefully getting onto his knees and returning
to a stand.
        Examining himself briefly, the ouji found that he hadn’t sustained any physical
injuries from the bonding response.  But, what if this gets worse?  the saiyajin questioned
in his mind.  Quietly contemplating, Vejita finally came to a decision.
        “I’m going to bring her back.,”  the ouji said in a strongly defined tone.
Momentarily, he closed his eyes to organized the unsettling thoughts .
        Vejita didn’t like to admit it, but the last week had been a blazing hell for him.  It
wasn’t merely the fact that his precious gravity machine was demolished or purely the
unwavering bonding mechanisms that shaped the terrible week, though.  Deep inside,
under the rippling muscles and ragged battle scars, the ouji missed his onna and brat.
Bulma was loud mouthed, temperamental, and annoying, while the child screamed
excessively at every hour of the day.  Despite all of his rationalizations, the man still
wanted them back at Capsule Corp more than anything.
        Angrily, the saiyajin punched the kitchen’s wooden door frame.  The jab caused
the entire mansion to quiver at Vejita’s power.  I’m becoming as weak as Kakorotto!  The
ouji actually craved little things he had over looked so easily to return.  Vejita had noticed
scents of flowery shampoo and heavy baby powder no longer graced his sensitive nostrils.
Joyous morning squeals and sultry midnight phrases never fell upon the ouji’s ears.
Loneliness hadn’t clouded the man so thickly since he had been wished back to life after
dying at Furiza’s hands almost four years ago.

        Vejita dashed out to the tall building, pride nipping at his heels.  It’s strong pull
tempted the ouji to stay in the lavish house and not give into his shameful needs.  For
once, the saiyajin refused to listen to the rough nagging voice.
        Regulating his ki, the man lifted off into the sky.  He used his senses to deliberately
find one of Chikyuu’s strongest warriors, Son Gohan.  Locating the familiar power, the
ouji headed off in it’s direction.
        If our child is with him, then that’s where the onna will be.  Vejita calmly
reasoned as he flew.  The urge to turn back still hung over the his head, but the saiyajin
would pay the impulse no heed.  No matter how pathetic it made him, the ouji’s decision
was final.  He would rather live weakened with a mate at his side than blaze in hell alone.
        As the man came close the quaint residence, a striking realization broke through
his consciousness.  Stopping cold, a single haunting melody played softly in the saiyajin’s
stern mind.  That song...  Bulma had been airily humming it to put her lavender headed
child to sleep the day she had left.
        “...it was from the Capsule Corp galla.  The first night we slept together...,” Vejita
whispered, deep voice trailing off.  Smirking, the ouji remembered his efforts to push the
onna away that evening.  He feared she was becoming too close.  The little minx had seen
right through the saiyajin’s careful plot, though, and that night had presented the man with
a sanctuary from his stifling solitude.
        Continuing to fly slightly faster, Vejita was determined to repay her gracious favor.

        The saiyajin landed swiftly outside the country dwelling.  He heard a sharp crash of
it’s entrance slamming open.  Turning, Vejita saw Kakorotto’s mate standing solidly at the
front of the cozy house.  She was obviously pregnant with her delicate hands on brawny
hips and a severe look on her youthful face.  Hatred and aggression swirled in Chi-Chi’s
frigid glare as she firmly held her ground.
        “Where’s the onna and brat?,” the ouji demanded gruffly.  Vejita would offer her
no pleasantries.  Seething with almost tangible anger, the lady replied in the calmest voice
she could muster.
        “BULMA is not here right now.  She took TRUNKS with her on a walk.,”  The
words dripped dangerously from her tounge.  Chi-Chi made sure to empathsize the names
as she spoke.
        Leave it to Kakorotto to willingly choose the most unpleasant female on this
entire planet for a mate. the saiyajin mused.  He simply scowled at the raven haired onna.
        “Well, Chikyuujin, I suggest you lead the Saiyajin no Ouji to her before I’m forced
to blast this area to pieces in my search.,”  Vejita was perfectly able to locate his mate’s
small ki at this distance and find Bulma himself, but he rather enjoyed annoying the Son’s
into doing the task for him.
        Before an enraged Chi-Chi could begin to rant, a juvenile voice from behind
interrupted her.
        “I’ll take you.,”
        Gohan walked from his home, head held high, out to the other warrior.  The young
man hadn’t feared Vejita in a long time.  Dark eyes sparkling in the bright noon sun and jet
black hair ruffled atop his head, a faint smile played across the boy’s thin lips.
        “Hai, let’s go.,” was Vejita’s only response to the demi-saiyajin’s offer.  Silently,
the two rose into the air to find Bulma.

        Thousands of brightly hued wildflowers bobbed in the warm summer wind.
They danced wildly to an unheard melody as Vejita touched down in the wide open field.
Gohan had pointed him to the spot, then retreated to the comforts of his quaint home to
give the couple some privacy.  Patches of fertile grass sparsely patterned the area, claiming
every inch of ground that was not occupied by a blossom.
        Fair lilting breezes and twittering songbirds were the only sounds that graced the
wide open pasture.  Cold stony eyes analyzed the overly peaceful countryside, searching
carefully for his missing mate.  With a short breath lodging itself in the saiyajin’s rough
throat, he caught sight of the onna’s form.
        About thirty meters from where the ouji stoically stood, Bulma sat contented in a
thick plat of assorted foliage.  Ample blue locks cascaded down the lady’s shoulders,
shrouding the top of her contoured back.  It shone in the high noon day sun, creating a
rippling radiance the saiyajin’s accurate vision could easily discern.
        Very little make-up adorned the onna’s pretty face, only a slight pink gloss graced
her lush lips as they stretched in a huge grin.  Bulma had Trunks at her side, moving in
short spurts to tickle him with spidery fingers.  Cerulean eyes glittered with every joyful
squeal the child made.
        Uncrossing and crossing her willowy legs, Vejita could see how dark denim shorts
clung to the lady’s bottom curves.  As the she bent over to give her son a curt kiss on his
small forehead, the thin blouse Bulma wore dipped to reveal the tops of her milky white
breasts.  As if in a trance, the ouji began to stroll languidly towards her.
        Trunks shakily stood beside his kaa-san, grabbing slender stems around him for
support.  Many of the different tinged plants were instantly ripped from the soft earth by
their roots.  Laughing at the boy’s growing strength, Bulma abruptly stopped as the thump
of footsteps pounded in her ears.
        Instinctively, she snapped her head around to see the incoming saiyajin.  A coral
blush ran it’s way over rounded cheeks as the onna unconsciously mouthed an inaudible
word.  The man didn’t need the ability to read lips to know what was said;
        “Vejita...,”

        Bulma couldn’t believe what she was seeing.  Chest tightening, Vejita strode tall in
her direction.  The scene was more like that of a classic movie or a famous romance novel
than of reality.
        With midnight hair jutting out stark away from his stone carved features, the ouji
looked as gorgeous as always.  The same intense ebony look from the onna’s memories
chained itself to her vulnerable form.  Pressed khaki pants and an unbuttoned navy dress
shirt seemed to enhance the saiyajin’s golden skin, giving him an exotic allure as he never
once wavered from his path.  A muscular chest protruded slightly from the open garment
which was flapping frantically in the warm winds.
        The cyan haired lady’s hopeful heart jumped and began to thump wildly at the
ouji’s approach.  Sucking in gluttonous breaths, she desperately tried to still her dizzied
head.  Stop it Bulma!  You don’t even know why Vejita’s here!  There’s a good chance
he’ll saunter over and demand the gravity room fixed or his dinner cooked.  she
reprimanded herself.
        Forcing her eyes from the man’s smothering stare, Bulma cautiously brought
Trunks onto her lap.  After all that had been said and done, the onna could simply not
allow herself to run to the man and immediately forgive all of his past transgressions.  As
much as every fiber of the lady’s being demanded, her pride was still too intact to give into
such urges.

        Vejita halted suddenly, inches away from the beauty’s frail body.   Sea shaded eyes
had already taken their amazing sheen away from the saiyajin’s sight.  Exhaling , the ouji
wasn’t aware he had even been holding the long breath.  Kuso.  the man cursed in his
mind, without rage.
        Bulma looked as if she had been crafted from glass, too exquisite and fragile to
even touch.  Like in some whimsical faerie tale the vibrant buds around her contrasted the
lady’s slim physique, empathizing endless curves and flawless skin.
        Watching the onna for a moment, he found that she refused to look at him.
Silently, the ouji crouched and in one fluid movement took a seat next to his stationary
mate.

        “Have you ever lived for anything in your life?,”  Vejita plainly questioned.  His
voice had a solid strength in it’s tone, but none of the usual gruffness.  It mentally slapped
the onna and sent her mind reeling in confusion once more.
        Nani!? she thought, hastily trying to pick through a mess of memories to compose
a viable answer for the saiyajin.
        “Well,”  Bulma started, pushing a thick lock away from her flushed cheeks and
behind an ear.
        “When I was sixteen I met all of my friends while searching for the dragonballs.
We had so many adventures and became very close to one another.  Even Oolong grows
on you after awhile.  I learned to live for them, I guess.,”
        Trunks gave a sharp tug on his kaa-san’s silk blouse, as if he could understand her
every word.  Smiling euphorically, the onna continued.
        “I’ve lived for the love of men.,”  At this, she dared a quick glance at Vejita.
        “But now, my life has been blessed with a son.  I live for Trunks, not because I
have to,” Bulma paused to close her delicate eyelids, “because I want to.,”
        As the onna reopened her large eyes, she noticed the saiyajin staring out into the
rolling pasture.  Almost symbolically, he took a very deep and filling breath.
        “Since the instant I saw my first light, I was raised to be the ‘Saiyajin on Ouji,’,”
A sigh escaped the man’s thick lips as muddled images of early childhood resurfaced in his
mind.
        “I was taught to respect and love my position, so I began to live for the day I
would take the throne of Vejita-sei.,”  Those times seemed so distant to him, like all they
had ever been was a fevered dream on a cruel winter’s night.
        “When I was ten years old, that rite was brutally torn away from me.,”  Rage
slowly seeped into his words which had, up to that point, been serious and monotone.
        “Furiza had stripped me of everything I had ever known or desired.  I made an
oath on the blood of my ancestry that I would slaughter the tyrant with my bare hands.,”
Fists ball, Vejita’s short nails dug into his palms, causing rows of tiny crescent gashes.
        “That goal, too, was stolen from my grasp.  Kakorotto had unknowingly
obliterated my only reason for existing.,”  Hands falling back to his sides, the saiyajin
relaxed slightly.
        “My destiny from that point on was clear, I had to become a legendary super
saiyajin and kill the third class baka.,”
        Shivering, Bulma felt icy pricks dance over her soft skin.  The onna always hated it
when Vejita talked about murdering people close to her.  Somehow, though, the man
sounded different than he had in the past.  No jealousy or resentment buried itself in his
undertones.  He sounded almost heavyhearted at the mention of the dead warrior.
        “But I was denied once again.,”  Dark embers finally caught Bulma’s azure bliss as
the man’s face turned to hers.
        “Bulma.,”
        Vejita said it slowly, like the very sound of his mate’s name could swallow the
saiyajin whole.  It came out thick and throaty, like he knew no other way to speak.
        “I won’t let you take away my last reason to live.,”

        Bulma was completely breathless.  Her glistening eyes could only blink as she tried
to comprehend the meaning of his words.
        “You know,” the ouji paused to bring one large knee toward his broad chest.  “I
heard everything the brat and you said while you were cutting his hair.,”  The onna’s
somewhat steady mind was again sent into utter chaos.  Bits of memories from just before
Cell Game quickly returned to her.  Why is he bringing this up now?
        “He ranted about my cruelty and pride, saying he couldn’t imagine how you fell for
such an arrogant man like me.,”
        Little did Bulma know at the time that Vejita had been right outside her door,
casually leaning against it’s smooth frame while pretending not to eavesdrop.
        The smallest of smirks played across his tense lips.
        “But then, you of all people defended me.  You tried to explain that my pride and
arrogance were only a mechanism to shove people away.  After everything I’ve done to
you, this planet, and it’s people, you still reasoned there was more to me than conceit and
hate.,”
        A nostalgic tone came to hover just above the couple as they sat in the lovely field.
Both remembered the conversation well, from two very different view points.  Vejita
draped a thick arm lazily over his upraised knee.
        “When Cell murdered Trunks, something in me snapped.,”  Bulma already heard
how the saiyajin, in a fit of blind rage, had tried to take out the villain single-handedly after
their son’s death.
        “It wasn’t until he laid before me that I realized it.   I didn’t have to be the ruthless
leader my otu-san had brought me up as, or the merciless tyrant Furiza had brain washed
me into being.
        “I knew then, I didn’t want to be the man...,”
        Vejita’s steel gaze softened ever so slightly, so that had anyone other than Bulma
been looking into it’s depth they would be unable to distinguish a difference.
        “...that couldn’t say Aishiteru to his mate.,”

        Gasping, the onna’s head swam.  He said it!  The phrase was the closest the ouji
had ever come to expressing his passion for her.  Bulma was close enough to the man to
know exactly what he was trying to say.
        She had no clue how to respond.  The lady had always dreamed, but never
expected, the saiyajin to actually speak his affections.  As of late, the onna wasn’t even
sure if Vejita had ever cared for her.
        “I’ll never stop training--,”  Bulma went into, what seemed like, the largest fit of
laughter in her life.  All the tremendous emotional pain from the past week seemed to
vaporize out of the onna and seep into the soft ground under the two harmlessly.  Trunks
could only gaze at his kaa-san, eyes wide with curiosity.
        “I’m not Chi-Chi!,”  she blurted out as the last of the giggles subsided.
        “I’d never want you to!  Your ‘Training Time,’  is the only break I ever get from
that loud complaining mouth!,”  Bulma jokingly threw at the warrior, who’s face quickly
dropped to a deep scowl.
        “But, some things do have to change.  We both need to change.,”  the onna spoke
seriously.  She knew that everything wrong in their relationship wasn’t the saiyajin’s fault.
They would both have to compromise to make it work.

        Vejita was silent for a long moment.  His inky eyes took in the sight of her
practically glowing face.  She already looked happier than he could remember seeing the
onna in months.
        With a surprising speed, the ouji bent down and captured Bulma’s broad lips with
his own.  The saiyajin couldn’t ignore the irresistible impulse any longer.  It was a tender
kiss, reassuring in it’s airiness.  He took special care not to plunder the lady, like the man
did in the previous nights they had slept together.  Vejita needed for once to quiet the
onna’s thundering fears.
        Smiling into him, she returned his caresses with the same enthusiasm.  A small
hand softly rested itself upon the ouji’s grasp.  Intertwining their fingers tightly, they
finally broke their supple liplock.
        Turning his vision, Vejita looked to his energetic son.  Trunks only gurgled light
baby sounds as he observed his otu-san with profound cobalt eyes.
        Gingerly, the saiyajin let a free hand brush through his child’s thin lavender locks.
Ruffling the silky strands, a pair of tiny fists reached up to grab Vejita’s powerful wrist
playfully.  Giggling, the boy just sat as his otu-san  stiffened, astonished by the infant’s
innocent act of bravery.
        Bulma smiled warmly.  The gentle motion had been the most affectionate action
Vejita had allowed himself to show his son since the child’s birth.

        As the ouji carefully drew the arm back to his side, Bulma unlaced their fingers and
stood.  With Trunks in hand, she took a few steps away from her mate.  Without a single
sound, the plain’s surging breeze returned to swirl vivid buds around Trunks and herself.
        Sighing, finally satisfied, the onna took a deep breath.  The heavy scent of
blossoms from all around intoxicated her.  For the first time in what had seemed like an
eternity, the lady felt like everything in her life was as it was meant to be.
        Quickly, she turned to face him.  A wide grin was plastered on Bulma’s perfect
lips.  Cyan fire playfully jumped in her shining eyes.
        “Vejita, let’s go home.,”