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The Depurification Of Son Goku
By : FaroreRose
Category: Missing Data > Missing Data
Views: 294 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Bulma sat quietly at her desk placed in the corner of her bedroom. The area was messy, soda cans, empty chip bags, and plastic food wrappers littered the floor around the plush king size bed. The only light within the darkness came from the laptop screen which illuminated Bulma's frustrated face. Her hands shook in frustration while her fingers rested on the keyboard. * What a fucking jerk! *
The beating in her hart began to quicken, and the blue haired woman could feel her blood pressure rise, “ GOD DAMNIT VEGETA!” She pushed herself backwards and away from her desk while flinging her left forearm toward her little computer. It plummeted onto the plush beige carpet landing with a soft thump.
Tears swelled in Bulma's eyes, and before she knew it, she found herself in the soft embrace of her comforter crying deeply into one of the many pillows. Soft fabric muffled her anguished sounds while tears flowed freely to soak the pillowcase, leaving a wet pool against Bulma's face. Her shoulders hiccuped up and down to match her sobs.
*What did I do to deserve this?* There was no comfort for her. There was no one left to cry to. Vegeta was gone from her; Bulma had accepted this fact months ago. She was a woman now and felt too grown to flee to her parents. Usually she would consume herself in her work to escape the onslaught of her own thoughts and the never ending pressure deep inside her chest, but the focus that she needed was lacking to do her job.
Slowly her head rose from it's personal swimming pool, and she wiped the tears from her cheeks with trembling fingertips, her blue nails catching some of the tears beneath them. She sighed, allowing herself to flop over and curl up on her side.
After the defeat of Majin Buu, Bulma had thought that the earth had won over the Saiyan prince. He began spending more time with their son and even started keeping the promises he made with the boy. Their training was harsh still, but Bulma could feel the bond growing between the two. She had assumed that all of her hopes had come true. The realization that Vegeta did not see her and Trunks as a package deal hit her hard.
Feelings of betrayal and abandonment washed over her again.
// Bulma stood next to her mother in front of the kitchen sink. The Briefs family had given all of the staff two weeks off to prepare and enjoy the winter holidays, and so the pair peeled potatoes in anticipation of the night's dinner.
Bulma smiled listening to her mother hum and chirp while watching the potato skins pass through and bend away from the gliding peeler only to fall and rest atop its family members in the sink. Everything was peaceful. Everything was in its place.
She looked down at her watch. Three more hours until the guests would start arriving. “Mom, I think we should call for backup.” Bunny giggled cheerfully and nodded.
The blond woman placed her fingers to her cheek. “Why don't we get Trunks and Goten in here, dear. The boys can help us clean as we go.” Her eyes sparkled at the thought of her adorable grandson helping his mother and grandmother prepare for Christmas dinner.
“I don't think he will be too happy about the idea, but we could use the help,” She sighed and looked around the messy kitchen. “Plus we don't have time to deal with this before everyone gets here. They won't have to see the kitchen, but knowing about it is going to drive me crazy all night.”
Dirty dishes and meal ingredients littered the countertops. Spills and crumbs were scattered about the area as well. Bulma switched her eyes over to the clock shinning green on the face of the microwave. Dropping the potato and peeler into the sink, she reached into the pocket of her jeans to pull out her phone. In no time Bulma was speaking with her son.
“Moooom, we just got to the good part!,” Trunk's voice crackled on the other end of the cell phone.
“It can wait until after the party! You two need to get down here right now or don't even think about Goten spending the night tonight!” Bulma clicked the end button and crossed her arms, the phone still in hand. She laughed, “That should get them down here.”
The trampling of two pair of adolescent feet came rumbling down the main staircase of residential Capsule Corp. Soon the kitchen was full of flying trash bags and cleaner soaked wash rags being violently swept over countertops as Trunks and Goten desperately cleaned the messy kitchen to maintain their plans for the night. To Bulma's surprise, it was almost spotless; she had expected the boys to do a much lazier job.
She squinted her eyes at her only son as he stood with his arms stiff at his sides waiting for his mother's approval. Next to him was Goten who was mirroring his friend's posture.
* They must be planning something mischievous for tonight. . . Whatever, it can't be too bad. * Bulma rolled her eyes and smiled. “Thanks, you guys! You really did a great job. Go and play before everyone shows up!”
That night the Christmas party was a hit. Everyone on the guest list showed up to enjoy dinner and a nice evening surrounded by friends. The whole gang was there. Bulma was surprised to see that even Tien and Launch showed up accompanied, of course, by Chiaotzu.
Her eyes went over into the corner of the cozy living space chosen for the night where her husband sat leaning in the recliner.
He was reserved, and Bulma had noticed the glances and snarls he was sending towards her childhood friend. Goku was oblivious to the prince's dirty looks, but it was obvious that there was anger in those stares. There was something bothering the spiky haired warrior. Bulma had been pondering what it could be all evening. She wished that Vegeta would be more sociable; she was lucky that he had stuck around at all.
Usually, when something was itching at the mind of the Saiyan prince, he would not hesitate to speak or yell whatever obscenities that would make him feel better for a time. Tonight he was quiet, only giving Goku the cold shoulder despite staring him down.
* Maybe I can talk to him about it later after everyone leaves. . . I would rather not cause a scene this time. * Bulma glanced over at Goku who was sitting between Master Roshi and the Ox-King laughing at a joke Krillin had made. She shook her head. * What is the problem with you two this time? *
The night drifted by like a soft passing buzz.
Tipsy, Bulma toddled into the bedroom. Vegeta stood stiffly by the bed side, his face blank and eyes dull. He was beautiful with gently rolling muscle hidden under his mustard sweater. She drank him in as she walked forward to wrap her arms around his neck whispering, “Hey, was something bothering you tonight?”
He was ridged, and Bulma pulled away. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a stack of Vegeta's cloths and training uniforms folded neatly and stacked on the foot of the bed. She looked back at him, dropping her arms. “What's going on?” Vegeta turned away from her to lift a large laundry basked from the floor.
“I'm moving into another room.” His voice was void. There was nothing there to indicate that her lover turned husband felt any emotion at all. Vegeta had gone from throwing angry glares at Goku to giving Bulma a distant numbness. She scrunched her face up with confusion at the statement, his words falling hard in the pit of her stomach.
“What are you talking about, Vegeta? Moving rooms?” She brought a hand up to rest on her hip as she switched her weight to one foot. “ Do you need extra space? I can clear out extra. . .”
He cut her off. “ I can't sleep here anymore.” Vegeta loaded his belongings into the basket and lifted it from the bed.
Bulma was dumbfounded. “AND WHY NOT!?” She watched his face change. There was a small frown forming there.
“I just can't. I. . I'm.” He paused briefly to grind his teeth together. “I NEED TO FOCUS ON MY TRAINING AND YOU ARE JUST A DISTRACTION!” The air was pulled from him as he shouted, swirling from his lungs like water tornadoing down the drain of a bath. Vegeta turned and walked out of the door kicking it closed as he entered the hallway leaving Bulma alone and confused.
This was how it remained for three solid months. Vegeta barely spoke, and when he did it was brief. His training sessions with Trunks still continued, but they had lessened dramatically. Bulma took every chance that she was given to talk to the man but was only denied any other response other than Vegeta's training took pretense on everything else. . . including her.
Their fights escalated. Soon she realized that she was getting nowhere. Once more, her prince had locked himself away from the family he had gained. The gravity chamber had become his home, it's red lights and ambient noise embedding their being into his memory.
She missed him. Longed for him to return to their bed and be apart of their lives once more. It was a sweet feeling that had not lasted long enough. Her thoughts ran back and forth across the front of her mind searching for answers like a mouse scurries for food. Nothing seemed to make sense; their family progress had came to a halt. Her anger at him had become less as her sadness and confusion grew.
* What am I to him anyway? * Bulma sat with her legs crossed leaning with her elbow resting on the outdoor patio table. The daylight was fading over the front lawn, an Bulma watched as the little lights lining the long concrete drive twinkled into life. * I shouldn't even be thinking about this anymore. . .There are more important things for me to be doing. *
The sound of falling footsteps called out to her, and she turned her head to see Vegeta heading her way from the front entrance. * Well. . . There goes that idea. * Bulma, pretending not to care, looked back down at the magazine that was opened up in her lap. The article she landed on made her eyes tingle with the threat of tears. “How To Get Your Man Back In Seven Days. . .” She laughed bitterly to herself. * Maybe Cosmo wasn't the best choice.*
Vegeta was there now, standing only a few feet away. Bulma wondered if she was fast enough to get a hit on him with her wine glass but then thought against it. She wasn't in the mood for a fight right now. It would only result in her crying about it later. Breathing in deeply was all she could do for the moment. He loomed like a shadow waiting to swallow up her heart. * Please don't be in a bad mood . . . Please don't be in a bad mood! * When Bulma determined that he wasn't going anywhere she finally acknowledged the Saiyan.
“Vegeta.” She flipped the magazine shut and locked her eyes firmly with his. Still nothing. The orbs were empty of everything but apathy for her.
“We need to settle something, Woman.” Blunt as always, he crossed his arms as he spoke.
Bulma looked exhausted. She was fed up with the constant neediness of the man and his inability to help himself out of combat situations. He really was a prince. Her hand went up to rest its palm on her forehead.
“Vegeta, I told you that I'm done fixing the drones. If you want to use them then learn not to break them.” She waved her hand at him, reopening her magazine. This time she landed on one of the fashion articles. *That's better. . . *
“I don't care about those stupid toys.” She could hear a whisper of anger clinging tightly to his voice. After so many years, Bulma could tell the difference between that and his usual grumpy tone. But something about this was off. The anger was being buried by something else. . . She decided not to respond.
“You are no longer mine. I have decided to relieve you of your duties.”
*Wha. . . What? * Bulma felt as if something had soured on her stomach.
Vegeta's being set off a chilly air around them as night took over the sky. His face and posture never changed until he turned to walk away. Bulma could not respond; she looked at him with parted mouth and teary eyes. He turned his head around to give her one last parting glance.
“Don't call me to your room again. I won't be leaving. Trunks is still my son, and I am far from finished with his training.” That was that. He walked away from her to retreat back to the gravity room. He was gone.
She never even got the chance to speak. Bulma was sure he would have let her if she had tried, but the shock to her system prevented any sound from escaping her chest. Was that it? He had given up his ownership over her? *Is that all I was to him in the first place?* She could feel her heart begin to race. It's thumps echoed up through her temples and down to the bottoms of her feet with a mixture of sadness and rage. *Just a. . .A PET!?* She balled her fist, crumbling and ripping the pages of the magazine under her fingers. *JUST SOME PUPPY HE GOT TIRED OF PLAYING WITH!*
Bulma's face fell. There was nothing left.
The walk back up to Capsule Corp was a long one filled with a numbing shadow that swayed on her eyelids. The clicking of heels on the staircase up to her room mimicked a speedy clock, and the brave blue haired woman could not think of anything but fear. How would this make Trunks feel? Should she even talk to him about it? She knew that Vegeta wouldn't; he would find no point in sharing the information with his son considering he intended on staying there physically to continue with the boy's training. * Wait. . .why should I even let him stay? This is my home anyway, not his.*
She had reached her bedroom and opened the door. It was just how she had left it, a royal mess. * I don't want to take him away from Trunks. . .He needs his dad. . .* Despite her own personal thoughts about Vegeta, she had to admit that he was a good father.
Looking at the room void of any other companion made her heartbeat quicken with impending anxiety. Bulma could feel it pool from her chest to trickle down her arms and legs. The fiery feeling of dread crept through her from under her skin. Her muscles tightened to fight off the burn.
To her right, she stared over at the bookcase pressed to the wall. Its shelves were filled with diaries from younger days accompanied by personal notes and a few of her favorite novels. One of the diaries caught her eye. It was a thick fuzzy pink journal about the size of her hand clasped shut by a small heart-shaped lock. Bulma had lost the key a few years ago after baby Trunks acquired it in an attempt to put it in his cooing mouth. She remembered it being one of her most important logs at the time when she had first met Goku. Its pages were filled with hopes and daydreams of finding a prince who would treat her like a princess. Bulma wrote in it constantly as a girl, scribbling out romantic dates she and her boyfriend would go on and recording the locations of previously found dragon balls. Her nose wrinkled. *What was wrong with me? . . . What was I thinking back then? *
The memories of her carefree adolescence carried themselves over her senses and swept her anger further up into her chest. Before she knew it, Bulma's fists were balled with rage. So many wasted years. So many meaningless fights and arguments. * I. . . I thought things were getting better. . . How could I be so stupid?*
The books began to fly. Bulma had flung her body forward without thinking. Her fist collided with the middle row of books containing the one pink diary. She raked them off and down to the ground. The contents of the rest of the shelves followed into the same fate. She screamed, “None of this shit matters anymore!”
The room was a whirlwind of knickknacks and paper. The mess had expanded into an explosion of an emotional out pore. Bulma's hands threw everything that was within their reach towards the powder blue walls of her bedroom leaving nicks and dents in the new paint. Not even her personal computer survived the onslaught. By the end of the frantic destruction, everything in the square space was in shambles.
Bulma's eyes were filled with tears as he fists shook with the release of her indignation. One singular thought rolled over her again and again. * So. . . Stupid. . . I'm so . . .stupid. . .* Exhausted, she fell forward onto her bed and allowed herself to sob. * He. . .He never loved me. . . Never. * //
Bulma remained curled on her side while she recalled the day Vegeta had cut her loose. She still didn't fully understand why she had allowed him to continue living in her home. Maybe it was mainly because of Trunks, but maybe it was because she knew that this was Vegeta's home too whether she liked it or not. The sultry Saiyan had made his place here, and although being around him lately set her heart ablaze, she didn't have the strength to make him leave or to question his presence. But she did have the strength to do something else.
She finished wiping her face of fallen tears and hoisted herself up to lean down on one arm while she sat crooked atop the bedding. The blue haired beauty breathed deeply and picked up her shattered emotions from the floor of her being. Shaking off the rapid beats of her heart, Bulma stood and walked slowly to the connecting bathroom.
It was huge. A giant four legged bathtub was the centerpiece surrounded by white tile. The double sinks seemed to mock her as she stared at her tear stained face in the large mirror. Her face twisted, and she forced a small smile. * I can't do this anymore. * She turned the silver water tap of one of the sinks and began to wash her face. It was cool, but something within her wouldn't mentally allow it to be refreshing.
Make-up cluttered the counters, and Bulma raked her eyes over the assortment. There was a small spark of determination in her eyes. The determination to be happy.
Most people did not realize that happiness was a choice. Bulma knew this secret of life. It was one of the hardest decisions that a human could make. The decision to be happy no matter what was going on around them. As difficult as the task was, she knew that she only had two choices. She could wallow in her misery and stay in her bed or she could pick herself up and smile. Bulma had a beautiful smile, and she knew it. Hell, she had a beautiful everything. It was time that she remembered what being beautiful felt like.
And so, she began the ritual of putting on her makeup. It was all high end cosmetics. The primer along with everything else glided over her flawless completion smoothly. She didn't need it, but that wasn't the point. Feeling beautiful was sometimes a choice too, and the world had provided her with another tool to help her make that choice. When she was finished Bulma breathed deeply, satisfied with her work.
Once again she remembered her panicked the last time she had let Vegeta upset her. * That won't happen again. . . I won't let it. * Bulma couldn't afford another meltdown. Not when she was on the verge of a breakthrough in her career. What she needed was time away from home. Capsule Corp. was beginning to feel like a huge prison. She needed a break from work. With a fresh mind, she could accomplish so much more. Still determined, she spun around on her heal to face her walk-in closet. The door slid on its track to open smoothly.
Inside was an array of clothing ranging from t-shirts, blue jeans, and sundresses to expensive party attire. Bulma reached forward, almost tripping over one of the rows of shoes lining the edge of the floor. When she finished dressing, Bulma reentered the bathroom to admire herself in the mirror one more time.
She wore a long flowy light blue dress with matching heels. The outfit was normally reserved for business dinners and informal meetings. Tonight felt just as important. * I've got to get out of here. . . But where am I going? * The bedroom felt small despite its open layout and high ceiling. Everything seemed to shrink in the shadow of her anxiety. Then, an idea came to mind, the objects in the room fell back to their normal sizes, and Bulma picked up her cell phone from where it fell on the foot of the bed.
Her hands shook a little while she dialed, but when she spoke there was no hesitation. There was nothing but her cool girlish tone.
“Yamcha!” She bit her bottom lip.
“Bu. . . Bulma! Hey. I haven't heard from you in a while.” He sounded surprised.
Yamcha new about Bulma's situation with Vegeta. Everyone did. It was no secret mainly because the Saiyan prince wouldn't let it be. He did not announce it to the world but rather didn't mind mentioning it during rare casual conversation. Within a week, the entire staff knew from word of mouth.
“What do you mean? You just saw me at my birthday party, doofus.” *Why did I call him a doofus? * Bulma's teeth started to grind together; she hoped Yamcha didn't hear it. She could feel the Yamcha's nerves frying on the other end of the phone.
“We. . .Well yea, but I mean like in the phone call way, ya know.” He laughed a little. * Oh well. . . *
“Well I'm a busy girl, ya know.” She stood up straight. “Buuut! I'm not so busy tonight, so I was wondering what you were up to. Maybe we could get together and go out somewhere.” Bulma waited, but didn't wait long. She heard the apparent excitement in his tone all too well.
“Yea! I mean, sure! Anywhere you want to go!” Yamcha waited for her conformation.
“Okay then! Get ready and meet me outside my place.” *Pfft. . .Like he would have ever turned me down. . . What was I thinking? * She rolled her eyes and smiled.
“Alright! Give me about an hour, and I'll see you then.”
“Okay, that sounds perfect! See you!”
“Bye, Bulma.”
She clicked off the phone and sighed. * Better than sitting in here being upset for the rest of the night. . . *
Bulma grabbed up her mini purse, the matching blue one with the then strap, and placed her phone inside. She turned to thumb through the tiny shelves of her jewelry box to pick out a pair of earrings that would go well with the necklace she already wore.
The room was still, but her heart was racing with excitement. The beats traveled in waves away from her and thumped across the bedroom door. On the other side, Vegeta stood listening to the tinkling of the jewelry. His lips formed a thin line. Silently he turned and walked away.
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The Depurification Of Son Goku	By : FaroreRose Category: Missing Data > Missing Data Views: 294 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer:

The Depurification Of Son Goku