vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog

[vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog]

Kame Carnival - Chapter 3 is up!

Chapter 3 of my Vegebul fic Kame Carnival is now up.

FF.net - https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12822975/3/Kame-Carnival

A03 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/13935507/chapters/32077713

[vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog]

Kame Carnival - Vegebul AU. Chapter 2

Kame Carnival chapter 2 is now up on FF.net. Also available to read below.

Bulma visits the Carnival for the first time in her life. The sights and sounds are amazing, and the acts are mesmerizing, but surely they are a little too good at what they do to just be mere performers. Kame Carnival is where shunned beings go when there is nowhere else to turn, Master Roshi welcomes all. Even an heiress who is an outcast in her own social class.

Chapter 1: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12822975/1/Kame-Carnival

Chapter 2: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12822975/2/Kame-Carnival

The show continued with spectacular flair. One act had been a myriad of clowns rushing in and clumsily performing supposedly ill planned tricks, accompanied by a honky-tonk tune played on a concealed piano. They tripped and stumbled, ‘making fools of themselves’, as Yamcha had put it, but Bulma found them very entertaining. So much so, she even let out an involuntary snort as she laughed. This earned an unimpressed sideways glance from Yamcha.

At his disapproving glance, Bulma sobered. She had been questioning why she was still courting Yamcha lately. He was a complete elitist, often making unfair remarks against the lower classes.  He even criticized Bulma a fair bit for her ‘new money’ ways.

Yamcha’s family came from old money; they had stumbled upon their wealth rather than worked for it. It had been six generations since the Ocha family had unearthed the tiny cluster of gems, known as dragon spheres, from their paltry piece of land located in the boonies. The exceptionally rare stones were an oddity. They formed in clusters of seven spheres inside geodes with a hollow centre, the outside unassuming, but the inside stunning. The spheres were bright amber with flecks of red running through them. Many who had seen them said the flecks resembled stars, and Bulma would have to agree.

The Ocha family had been lucky enough to find three geodes containing three full sets of dragon spheres. This discovery had kick started their assent in the logistics industry and had moved the family out of the sticks and into the very heart of West City.

In truth, Yamcha had been the best of a bad bunch once the suitors had come calling. He had been the youngest to show interest, being only two years her senior, the eldest of the admirers already being in his mid-fifties at the time. She was glad her father had simply offered the man a glass of whisky and soon after sent him on his way without so much as an audience with Bulma. As soon as she had turned eighteen, it had seemed as if the usually socially shunned Briefs family had suddenly come into existence for the first time.  Now at the age of twenty, she had been courting the man beside her for just over a year and a half, and she had no doubt that he would be proposing soon. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about marriage.

Bulma pulled her thoughts away from her current predicament and turned her attention back to the ring; the clowns had finished their act. As they exited, Bulma watched as two figures from opposite sides of the ring performed back flips into the centre. They stopped when they came back to back, each raising an arm to pose for the crowd. Bulma noticed the duo were the twins from the first act. The piano tempo changed, speeding up as a large see-through box was wheeled out from the side-line.

With help from her brother to climbed up and over the edge of the box, the crowd watched in astonishment as the blonde bent backwards, bringing her head back round to peer between her legs. There were murmurs of disbelief, and Bulma saw an elderly lady to her left actually faint for a handful of seconds before coming to, only to faint again when she witnessed the performer flatten herself to the base of the cube, one slippered foot on either side of her ears.

Her brother was next to climb into the box, careful not to step on his sister. He just as easily folded himself into an unimaginable position and squeezed into the box with ease. The case was large by normal standards, but it did not look big enough to fit two fully grown adults into it. Bulma turned to Yamcha with a smile, pleased to see his eyebrows raised in shock and the corner of his mouth quirked up into an impressed smirk. At least he was relaxing and beginning to enjoy the evening, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Yamcha bought their joined hands to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on the back of Bulma’s, before lowering them to rest on his thigh.

The two contortionists continued their act by squeezing into even tighter spaces, as well as contorting their bodies whilst performing highly dangerous stunts, like shooting an apple off of each other’s heads with a bow and arrow, using their feet to fire the weapon no less. The procession of entertainers continued, only interrupted now and then as the Ringmaster known as Master Roshi would make an appearance to engage the audience and rile them up for the next act to perform.

There was a fire breather who juggled his flaming batons like it was the most natural hobby in the world. He would then blow the flames until they extended out before him, often changing to colours a flame could never naturally obtain. Bulma was sure the flared flames had even formed shapes which seemed to move of their own accord. But flames often played tricks on the human eye, so Bulma shrugged it off. In truth, she was more impressed that the fire breather had refrained from setting his copious amount of thick, black hair atop his head alight.

He was followed by a strong man, who had been billed as being able to lift one hundred times his own weight, a slight exaggeration Bulma was sure. And then a pair of trapeze artists who exuded chemistry as they swung through the air at death-defying heights, trusting one another with their lives as they caught each other in mid-air.

Then there was a large, pink blob of a man who seemed to be able to swallow anything in sight. He had started with marbles, the crowd rather disappointed at first, but then he had moved onto billiard balls, before a bowling ball followed. There were hushed whispers amongst the mostly silent crowd, speculating that it was physically impossible to ingest such things, but the pink man kept going. He swallowed a number of ornate looking swords, but unlike the previous items these sharp instruments were extracted from his mouth and planted in the sand at his feet when he had done. The next item to be brought out rendered the whispering members of the audience to quiet.

A small bicycle was brought to the man by an assistant. The crowd remained silent and rather disturbed as they watched the man lower the mode of transport into his mouth. He must be able to dislocate his lower jaw to get it to open that wide, Bulma tried to justify in her thoughts, but deep down she wondered if the pink man was some kind of monster masquerading as a circus act. Once the bicycle had been devoured the man took a bow and upon straightening opened his mouth, patted his belly and in response the bicycle bell chimed twice. The crowd broke out into fits of laughter, standing from their seats they applauded as the human blob sauntered off to the side as if he had just eaten a light lunch.

“What a foul beast”, Yamcha said with a laugh as he applauded the gluttonous being.

More acts followed and the evening grew later and before Bulma knew it, it was time for the final performance. The music struck up a mysterious tone as the lights slowly dimmed until the tent was plunged into pitch blackness.

A ball of blue light appeared at the centre of the ring, seemingly hovering there on its own, but then it began to move back and forth, as if being thrown from hand to hand before it split into two. The ball kept duplicating until there were seven equally sized spheres. They floated in a circle before shooting out into different directions, causing some audience members to gasp and duck as if the objects would collide with them; but the orbs drifted and settled into lamps situated around the circular structure. Once they had reached their destination they brightened, illuminating the inside of the tent in an eerie blue hue. The man standing in the centre of the stage was now in full view and Bulma knew instantly who he was. He was the illusionist she had seen on the illustration at the entrance of the fair. He was just as cold and foreboding in person as he had been on his poster, and Bulma felt herself instinctively shift closer to Yamcha, as if he could offer some kind of protection.

Despite being an imposing figure, the illusionist was good at what he did. He had the crowd on the edge of their seats as he produced more of those balls of light and manipulated them. He had even shot a stream of light out of the palm of his hand which rose into the air and shifted into the form of a dragon. It coiled around itself and emitted steam from its nostrils before rushing towards the crowd with its jaws stretched wide and sharp teeth on full display for all to see. The crowd screamed and clambered for escape, but before the beast could reach them it dissipated and in its wake left what looked like fine pieces of white glitter raining down on them. Many gave nervous laughs and returned to their seats. Bulma noticed the crowds screams had caused the illusionist’s lips to pull up at the corner in a slight smirk. Although his features were still severe, it eased his stoniness just a little.

An assistant sauntered out to stand beside the man, her blond hair piled high on her head and her sparkly show outfit barely containing her ample assets. Yamcha shifted in his seat beside her and cleared his throat as he kept his eyes on the assistant. Bulma frowned and released the hand she had been holding, bringing it to toy with the long tail of her toy monkey which sat in her lap.

Whipping his hand around in the air the illusionist produced a crimson sheet out of thin air and proceeded to unceremoniously throw it over his assistant’s head. Raising his hand into the air he clicked his fingers, causing a spark to shoot from their tips and disappear before he reached for the sheet again and began to pull it off. The material seemed never ending compared to the size it had been when it had first been placed over the assistant, and as it was pulled away, it was as if the figure concealed below grew larger and larger.

Once the sheet was fully removed, the assistant no longer stood beneath it, instead there was a fully grown elephant. The animal raised itself up onto its hind legs and lifted its trunk into the air and gave a loud trumpet. Once the animal had settled back down, the sheet floated up into the air, stretching out and covered the elephant. This time when it was removed a lion sat in its place, roaring and shaking its giant mane. The large cat was covered also and when the material, which had magically returned to its original size, was pulled away for the last time, the assistant was back, this time dressed in a furry ensemble, the orange and black stripes imitating a tiger’s coat. She even had a little pair of ears perched on top of her head. Raising a hand she extended it towards the crowd and let out growl, earning a number of laughs from mainly the men amongst the audience, including a chuckle from Yamcha. Bulma was too busy concentrating on the illusionist. She had to hold back a smile when she saw him roll his eyes and cross his arms over his chest.

Taking the crimson sheet that had been used to cover her; the assistant exited blowing kisses and waving as she went.

The illusionist had now raised his feet off of the ground and was hovering above the dusty floor. His arms were still crossed and he bought his legs up to also cross them. Closing his eyes he began to rotate. He looked as if he were meditating; the only difference being that he was spinning in mid-air, the tip of his flame like hair almost brushing the ground as he turned in full circles. The crowd was awed and many leaned forward to get a closer look. There were whispers of the use of fine strings supporting the man’s body, but they were quickly rebuffed with questions on how they had manage to stay untangled if he was in fact suspended on wire. The blue orbs that were illuminating the room suddenly shot out of the lanterns that housed them and towards the illusionist, extinguishing before they could make impact, plunging the arena into darkness once again. When the lights came up, in the illusionist’s place stood Mater Roshi, his cane clutched in his hands before him.

The crowd applauded, even louder than they had when they had witnessed the man eating a bicycle. Master Roshi beamed from ear to ear; pleased the opening night of his show had been such a success. Once the crowd had quieted down Master Roshi thanked them for coming, told them to enjoy the many attractions on offer and wished them a good night before producing another one of his smoke bombs and disappearing in the thick fog.

The audience began to leave their seats, filtering out of the stands and towards the exit. Bulma and Yamcha stepped out of the tent and into the mild evening air. Many families with young children were making their way to the exit of the carnival, but numerous adults remained, mingling amongst the attractions.

“What did you think of the show?” Bulma asked Yamcha looking up at him expectantly.

“It was fine. That pink blob will haunt me for the rest of my life I think”. Yamcha grimaced and shook his head as if trying to shake the memory from his mind. Bulma let out a little laugh and wound her arm through Yamcha’s.

“Where to now, my dear?” He asked her, looking down into her large blue eyes. The moon was reflected within and not for the first time this evening he found himself marvelling at her beauty.

“How about The Hall of Wonders?” Bulma asked inclining her head towards the attraction ahead. Yamcha nodded and lead the way.

[vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog]

Kame Carnival - Vegebul AU

Bulma visits the Carnival for the first time in her life. The sights and sounds are amazing, and the acts are mesmerizing, but surely they are a little too good at what they do to just be mere performers. Kame Carnival is where shunned beings go when there is nowhere else to turn, Master Roshi welcomes all. Even an heiress who is an outcast in her own social class.

FF.Net - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12822975/1/Kame-Carnival

Or read below.

Chapter 1 - Kame Carnival

The lights and sights were mesmerizing. Bulma clung to her escort’s arm, clutching his muscular bicep through the light linen fabric of his summer suit. The weather was mild, the light breeze wafting the sweet aroma of the carnival delicacies in the couple’s direction as they leisurely strolled along the lit walkway which led to the carnival entrance. The words Kame Carnival proudly displayed above.

The path had been lined with string lights and posters displaying some of the acts they would be seeing this evening, Bulma marvelled at the colourful prints. Amongst the depictions there were: trapeze artists, jugglers, contortionists, a strong man, a fortune teller and even an illusionist. Bulma’s eyes lingered on the last print; it contrasted greatly from the others. Where they were vibrant and full of colour, the illusionist’s profile was dark and rather ominous. He had been painted looking directly out at the audience, his form shrouded in shadow. He did not look like a pleasant man; his heavy scowl darkened his face and his inky, upswept hair gave a jagged edge to his demeanour. His right hand was raised and in it he held a ball of blue light, which hovered above his palm. The blue highlighted the contours of his face making him look even more severe.

Bulma pulled her eyes away from the poster as they had reached the ticket booth at the end of the walkway. She watched as Yamcha handed over their entry fee to the elderly gentleman manning the booth. The man gave them both a warm smile as he slid their entry tickets through the small slot in the glass and wished them a good evening. Bulma was practically bouncing on her tip toes with excitement. She had never been to a carnival before. It wasn’t that she had never wanted to go to one; she just had never had the time. From a very young age she had taken an interest in inventing things just like her father, and had begun to work in his lab whenever she was not studying. Although she had not been a sheltered child, very far from it actually, a carnival was one thing she had yet to experience, and she would make up for lost time tonight. She planned to see everything there was to see, and taste everything there was to taste.

Stepping into the hustle and bustle of the carnival grounds, Bulma let go of Yamcha’s arm to rush forward and spin around in a circle, taking in the unfamiliar sights that greeted her. There were stalls housing games of chance, operated by an array of colourful characters shouting at the top of their lungs, beckoning passers-by to come and have a go.  Food stands were mixed in amongst the stalls, displaying sweet treats and savoury, salty delights. The smells were enough to make Bulma lick her lips. In the distance a Ferris wheel could be seen rotating at an unhurried pace as patrons rode in the cars, laughing and admiring the sights below.

There was a carousel blaring a jaunty tune as it rotated, the gaudy fiberglass horses bobbing up and down carrying happy children and adults alike. But the sight that stood out amongst the glittering attractions and busy stalls was the pink and white striped big top at the centre of it all. The turreted structure stretched towards the sky, a large, white flag at its tip flapping easily in the breeze.

Feeling a hand wrap around her elbow, Bulma was pulled back to Yamcha’s side. “Don’t stray too far, my dear. This place is full of unsavoury characters”. Bulma fought the urge to roll her eyes at his comment, but did look up at him with a slight frown. “These carnival folk are notorious thieves and swindlers. Keep your wits about you”, Yamcha added with a distasteful curl of his lip.

Deciding to ignore what Yamcha had just said, Bulma pulled him through the throng of people, marvelling at the entertainers who mingled amongst the crowd. A man on stilts towered above them, his costume a garish mix of orange and blue, and his face heavily decorated with thick greasepaint. A shiny red nose sat in the middle of his face, attached by a piece of string which tied behind his head. When he noticed Bulma looking up at him, he removed the worn looking bowler hat he wore, revealing a bald head, and tipped it in her direction as he bowed. Bulma’s smile widened.

As the stilt walker straightened, he returned his hat to his head and reached a hand into the inside pocket of his orange and blue striped blazer. He rummaged for a few seconds as Bulma watched on with anticipation. His wide painted smile lifted at the corners as he found what he was looking for and began to pull it free from the confines of his jacket. At first a red hanky appeared followed by a blue one and then a yellow one. The scraps of tied material kept coming and Bulma let out a chuckle at the clown’s bemused look on his face. All the while Yamcha stood by her side, his arms crossed over his chest, unimpressed by the performer’s antics.

The rope of scarves finally came to an end and the man gave an exaggerated wipe of his brow to show his relief. Attached to the end of the scarves was a paper flower, which the man untied and bent down to hand to Bulma. She took the delicate object marvelling at the fact it had not been damaged as it was pulled from his pocket. It was a well put together representation of a carnation, the thin petals had been dyed a vibrant blue that was almost the same shade as her hair. Bulma looked to the performer as she twisted the wire stem between her thumb and forefinger.

“Thank you so much”, she said causing the man to smile brightly. With a nod of his head he straightened and made his way through the crowd to entertain some more carnival goers.

“Look, Yamcha”, Bulma said turning to face him as she held out the flower in front of her. He gave the object a quick glance, the disinterest evident in his eyes.

“Yes, very pretty”, he replied, unfolding his arms and offering his hand to her.

Bulma quickly tucked the flower into her hair, just above her right ear. She was sure the blue blossom was camouflaged by her cerulean strands, but she had nowhere else to keep it for the moment without fear of damaging it. Yamcha watched the act and found it uncouth. If he had his way, he would have discarded the damn thing already, but he did not want to upset Bulma by taking away something which clearly entertained her. No matter how pointless that item was.

She took his hand and they found themselves strolling from stall to stall, partaking in a number of games in an attempt to win prizes. They had just reached the ring toss when Yamcha had decided he had had enough of playing the almost unwinnable games. He paid just for Bulma to have a turn and stood back to watch her as she flung the plastic rings in an attempt to hook them over the empty bottles.

Yamcha was a lucky man; Bulma was a true beauty. Although she was considered ‘new money’ and did not rank very high in the social scale of things, she was a highly sort after commodity amongst the upper classes. She had a brilliant mind, thanks to her father. And she was stunning, thanks to her mother. The Briefs were not seen as a conventionally desirable family to be associated with, but they were extremely wealthy, and would only get richer as time went on.

Mr. Briefs was an inventor. He had been seen as a bit of a laughing stock amongst his peers whilst growing up, as he always came up with ideas for inventions that nobody could fully comprehend. In his younger years he had found it hard to get work in his field as no one wished to hire someone that the scientific community had labelled a mad man. So, Mr. Briefs had settled for a meagre paying job of building automatons for theatre and screen productions. That was when he met Panchy, his wife. She had been a film star who went by just the name Bunny in her active years, she was a blonde bombshell, and often played the ditzy lead in many films. She was famous for prancing around on stage and screen in barely-there costumes and had gotten a name for herself. According to many men she had been the nation’s sweetheart at one point, but their wives would certainly disagree.

It had been a massive scandal when Bunny had eloped with a lowly stage production member, who was working on one of her films at the time. Soon after they had married, Mrs. Briefs invested a vast amount of her fortune into her new husband’s business venture, which was now known internationally as Capsule Corporation.

Bulma was the sole heiress to a very affluent company. You couldn’t go anywhere without seeing the distinctive Capsule Corp. logo printed on the side of a piece of machinery. Even Yamcha’s beloved sports automobile was a Capsule Corp. creation.

Watching the woman he was currently courting laugh and enjoy herself bought a smile to Yamcha’s face. His mother had been against the notion of bringing Bulma into their family due to her poor breeding as she had put it, but his father had insisted it would be beneficial to be associated with the Briefs and his mother had reluctantly relented. Yamcha just liked Bulma, she was rough around the edges, but he would mould her into the perfect high-society wife.

He watched as the carnival worker running the stall interacted with Bulma. She had managed to hook two hoops onto the bottles but the third ring had been a miss. The stall holder offered her an easy smile and gave her another go, free of charge. Yamcha frowned at the man’s obvious interest, but perked up at Bulma’s indifference to his attraction as she enjoyed herself.

Bulma managed to hook all three rings this time and let out a squeal of excitement as she bounced on the spot. The vendor congratulated her and showed her the choice of prizes to choose from. Bulma chose a small stuffed monkey. She thanked the man and turned to re-join Yamcha, who commended her on her win as they set off again. Bulma held the toy monkey in her hand, the long tail snuggly wrapped around her wrist.

Loud music began to play from the large circus tent at the centre of the fair and a voice bellowed, “Roll up, roll up”, over a bullhorn. It was time for the main show to start and the crowds were beginning to move towards the large entrance of the tent, filtering in through the flaps to find their seats. Bulma and Yamcha managed to get ringside seats. They procured some popcorn from a passing snack vendor and sat back waiting for the show to begin. Once the crowd was fully seated, the lights dimmed, leaving only the circle illuminated.

That was when the ringmaster appeared. He was a short man, hunched over and walking with a cane. He had a white beard and wore thick glasses, indicating he was far beyond his prime. The walk to centre stage seemed to be doing a number on him alone, his slow shuffle suggesting it was time he possibly gave up the position of ringmaster.

Yamcha leaned over and whispered, “Can’t the man move any faster?” with a snort.

Bulma kept her eyes on the elderly man. Once he had reached his destination it was like a new lease of life had shot through the old man’s bones.

“Welcome to Kame Carnival!” He bellowed louder than anticipated. “You may call me Master Roshi, and boy do I have a treat for you this evening. I hope you enjoy”. With that simple proclamation, the man threw something to the ground covered in sand. When the small object made impact with the hard floor a large cloud of pink smoke erupted, enveloping the ringmaster. When it had cleared he was gone. This earned a collective gasp from the audience followed by a round of clapping.

Bulma watched intrigued as the lights dimmed further and three spotlights switched on, aimed directly above. Three figures descended from overhead, dancing their way down large white sashes suspended from the structure above. They moved as effortlessly as a trio of spiders, abseiling down their own silk. They twisted and turned, flipping this way and that. The audience oohed and aahed as they marvelled at their acrobatic skill and fearlessness.

The act consisted of two women and a man, all dressed in matching costumes of white spandex decorated with silver accents. Once they had finished their routine, they planted their feet on the ground standing in a line; in the middle stood the shortest of the three. It was a woman with jet black hair which had been piled atop her head in a severe bun. She was petite, but deceivingly strong if the way she held her body up on the silk was anything to go by.

On either side of her stood two beings that were very similar in facial features. They were taller than the acrobat in the middle, but they were also slender. Both had piercing blue eyes, but the female was blonde while the male had black hair. They were clearly siblings, and judging by how similar they looked, possibly twins. The three performers held hands as they all simultaneously took a bow. They turned around and gave another bow to the rest of the audience their backs had previously been facing, all the while receiving a round of applause and a few wolf whistles.

The performers exited the circle by wrapping an arm in the silks they had used to descend, before the lengthy material was hoisted back up by unseen stage hands in the rafters. The material was retracted with ease, carrying the trio up and out of sight fluidly. Once they had disappeared completely from view, Bulma turned to Yamcha, he seemed just as mesmerized as her. Reaching a hand over, she grasped his and gave it a squeeze. She was glad he had brought her here tonight. She was excited to see all of the other acts still to come.

[vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog]

I want it. I WANT IT NOW! Nala, take my money! 💷💷💷

Yay….🤣🤣🤣💦

It was only a matter of time until i go completely insane…so yeah, i made myself a bodypillow 😀…..😂😂😂 i didn’t expect it to be that big…im not complaining tho 😂😂

[vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog]

[vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog]

Aah, this is hilarious and adorable at the same time! ;v; Just look at these two dorks. ♥ If the text is too tiny on these, right click and open them in a new tab! ベジブルなれ初め妄想【69fes】(A headcanon of VegeBul’s first time) by esu. translator ★

[vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog]

Love Nala's style. And Vegeta's muscles 😍

Geta 💥

[vegebulsareoneofyourfive-a--blog]

Neighbours - Vegebul AU

It’s been a few years since I’ve written anything that vaguely looks like fan fiction, but my muse seems to be trying to make a comeback. So here is a little AU one-shot about when Bulma and Vegeta meet as kids. Hope you enjoy.

Neighbours

At the tender age of seven, Bulma Briefs was getting a fresh start in life along with her mother, Panchy Briefs. The young girl had climbed out of the chauffeur driven car they had taken, and now stood on the pavement rocking back and forth on her plimsoll clad feet like she did whenever she felt nervous.

Bulma tilted her head to the side inquisitively as she took in the property which would be their new home. Staring back at her was a modestly sized, two-storey, detached house complete with garage and a spacious porch. It was – nice. Transfixed by the pale yellow structure, Bulma took a step closer, moving into the middle of the walkway; she was eager to see inside.

Bulma had never lived in what she would consider such a small house before. Back in West City she had lived in the sprawling expanse of the Capsule Corp compound, but since her father had passed away her mother had struggled with being in a place in which she had shared so many happy memories with her husband. So Mrs. Briefs had decided to move out of the compound, which also doubled as the company headquarters, and into a suburban detached property in Upper West City.

So curious about the small property, Bulma did not realise that she was currently obstructing a high-speed race.

“Get out the way!” rudely called a voice.

The yell was accompanied by a strange humming sound which got louder and louder as it got closer. Bulma pulled her eyes away from her new home just in time to see two boys racing one another along the pavement on their bikes at breakneck speed. Bulma jumped back just as they reached her, one of the boy’s narrowly missing running over her toes. She watched them as they both skidded to a stop outside the house next door, the one who nearly ran her over losing the race by a mere second. Both boys couldn’t have been much older than her.

Bulma watched as the boy who had come close to flattening her toes leant down and pulled up the leg of his baggy jeans. He pulled something crumpled out of his sock and handed it to his friend. Once the item had been exchanged, the other boy unfolded it and held it up to the light with a smile on his face. Bulma could now see that it was a creased zeni note.

Bulma blanched as the boy who had lost glared over his shoulder in her direction. His eyes were darker than any she had seen before and his stare made her feel uneasy. She began to rock on the balls of her feet again, never once taking her eyes off of the dark-eyed boy. She gasped when he removed one of his hands from his handlebars and a tanned middle finger was extended and directed at her.

She didn’t know how to respond to the action, so she did the first thing that came to mind; she stuck her tongue out at him. It didn’t have the desired effect and his other hand came up to join the other, both middle fingers now directed at her. But the boy quickly lowered his offending fingers when a woman appeared at the end of the driveway and clipped him round the back of his head, causing him to groan and his friend to make a hasty retreat, riding off down the street.

The lady was tanned like the boy, and Bulma wondered if she was his mum. She stepped around him and shot Bulma a pleasant smile before turning her attention to her mother, who had been directing the driver on where to take their suitcases once he had unloaded them from the boot of the car.

“You must be the new neighbours?” the woman asked with a slight accent Bulma couldn’t place.

Bulma watched her mum remove the large sunglasses - which she thought made her look like a bug - from her face and push them up so that they sat on top of her voluminous, blonde curls.

“We are. I’m Panchy and this is my daughter, Bulma”, Panchy responded as she extended her hand out towards the woman who was obviously their new neighbour.

Reaching her own hand out and grasping the one on offer she shook it as she introduced herself, “Kumara. And that is my son, Vegeta”, she said with a gesture of her head in the boy’s direction behind her.

Panchy lifted the hand she had used to shake Kumara’s and gave Vegeta a wave, “Nice to meet you, Vegeta”, she said earning a quick bob of the boy’s head in acknowledgement.

Both Panchy and Bulma jumped when Kumara turned to her son and snapped, “Get over here and say hello to our new neighbours properly”.

The boy rolled his dark eyes and dismounted his bike, laying it down gently on the ground before he headed over to stand at his mother’s side.

“Hello”, he ground out like it was a chore and crossed his arms over his chest.

Giving him a disapproving sideways glance, Kumara shook her head and returned her attention to Panchy who was currently handing the driver the front door key so he could take their possessions inside. “So you’re Panchy Briefs?” she asked intent on finding out everything about the newcomer.

Vegeta watched his mother drill the new neighbour for information; no doubt she would be on the phone to his aunt as soon as she was back in the house, gossiping about the new family in the neighbourhood. Turning his attention to the little girl who stood in front of him, Vegeta curled his lip. She was slightly younger than him, but not by much. He ran his eyes over the blue pigtails hanging from either side of her head; there wasn’t a single strand out of place. And then he moved onto her dress. It was floral patterned, made up of an array of pastel colours, and spotless. There wasn’t even a wrinkle in the material, unlike his clothing which was oversized and dirty from playing outside all day.

“You owe me one thousand zeni”, was the first thing to leave his mouth, causing Bulma’s brow to crease. “You made me lose the race”.

“I didn’t mean to”, Bulma replied innocently, her fingers coming up to twiddle with the tip of one of her plaits.

“You still owe me”, Vegeta responded with a shrug and an impassive expression.

“Oh, OK”, Bulma said looking down at her feet. She was beginning to suspect her new neighbour didn’t like her very much. Glancing up through her lashes, Bulma watched as Vegeta looked around disinterested in the situation as he waited for his mother to finish her interrogation. The two women had now moved up the path towards the house, Kumara making a comment about how light the Briefs had travelled as she gestured to the two suitcases the driver was carrying.

Bulma thought Vegeta was mean looking. He stood about a head taller than her and seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face for someone so young. He wore his clothes baggy and the knee of his jeans was ripped. He also had smears of what looked like grease on the denim covering his thighs like he had wiped his hands there after tinkering with something oily. Starting to feel awkward standing in silence, Bulma spoke up.

“Why does your bike make a funny sound?” she asked. This perked Vegeta up slightly and he turned his back on her as he headed over to his bike. Bulma thought he was ignoring her question, but quickly realised he had meant for her to follow him over to the where the bike still lay on the ground.

She watched as Vegeta picked it up and turned it so that she could see the back wheel. Lodged in the spokes was a playing card. He pushed the bike forward so that when the wheel made a full turn it admitted a clicking noise.

“It sounds like a motorcycle when you’re going really fast”, Bulma said. She had no idea why he would want to make his bike sound like a motorcycle, but then she had never owned a bike so what did she know about them? She also noticed the words ‘Prince Vegeta’ were expertly painted onto the frame of his bike in electric purple to stand out against the black paint. The letters were in a graffiti font and were easy to read.

“I like your bike, the purple writing is really pretty”. Bulma offered a strained smile.

Vegeta puffed out his chest and felt pride that his ride was being admired. ‘Pretty’ wasn’t a word he would have used to describe anything, but she was a girl, and girls liked to use stupid words, so he let it slide.

“I also like your name. It’s a nice name”, Bulma added as she lowered her eyes and rocked on her feet. It was an action which Vegeta realised she did quite often.

He didn’t know how to respond to her compliment, he could just say thanks, but he wasn’t use to people being nice to him unless they wanted something in return.

Seeing his mum approaching Vegeta looked at Bulma and blurted out, “Your dress is ugly and you sound dumb when you talk”, before pushing his bike onto his drive and heading towards the garage.

Bulma didn’t know what she had said to upset Vegeta, but now she was definitely sure that he didn’t like her. She heard her mother call her from where she stood on their new porch and turned away from Vegeta’s house to return to her own. She smiled at Kumara as she passed her, and bounded up the three steps to her porch. She had been eager to see the inside of her new home earlier, but now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to live here anymore if it meant she would run into Vegeta again.