Chapter Text
The lights from the siren spilled white and crimson across their faces in the dark as the ambulance sped off.
“Oh, Bulla…” her mother rubbed her hands across her face.
“Please just don’t say anything for a minute,” she whined.
They stood in the parking lot of a crappy apartment complex, silent. A flickering lamp post was all that illuminated the lot.
There had been a few nosy neighbors who had flicked their lights on, peaking their heads out from curtains to see what the fuss was about, but it seemed like everyone had moved on and gone back to bed.
A breeze picked up, lifting both women’s blue hair up for a moment, her mother’s much shorter than hers. Bulla sunk deeper into Jason’s oversized hoodie.
She took a breath. “Okay. Go ahead,” she mumbled, tucking her long hair behind her ear.
“Sweetie, I’m sure this is mortifying for you-”
“Uh huh.”
“And you know me, I’m not one to judge-”
“Uh huh.”
“I mean, back in my day, I was the one that was sneaking around with an alien-”
“Okay okay, please get to a point before I lose my mind,” Bulla groaned, avoiding her mother’s gaze.
Bulma sighed. “Maybe we could talk to your father-”
“Hell no!” Bulla shrieked, spinning to face her mother. Her eyes were shining with concern. Bulla took a moment to calm herself. “Do you know…how embarrassing that conversation would be? Hey dad, thanks for giving me super strong alien DNA, is there a way to tone it down so I don’t CRUSH A GUY’S PELVIS IN THE BEDROOM?”
Bulma cringed at her daughter. “That doesn’t sound great.”
Bulla turned away again, staring down the street where the ambulance had driven off. “No shit.”
“Well, we’ve gotta think of something. You’re 24, you should be able to mess around and have fun without it leading to a scandal.”
Bulla groaned and crouched down on the pavement, hiding her face in her hands. She hadn’t even thought about the family ‘image’. This could be a scandal if anyone staring out their windows recognized them.
Her mother rested her hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go home. We’ll think of something in the morning.”
—
Bulla’s bedroom door burst open, letting bright light leak in.
“What the hell,” she grumbled, burying herself in one of her dozens of pillows. It was her day to sleep in!
“Rise and shine, Princess.” Her father’s gravelly voice sounded irritated, so nothing unusual.
“Go away.” She threw a pillow in the direction of his voice. It came flying back at her, thumping against her back. “Oof.”
“This is exactly why your mother said you need training, and I fully agree.” Bulla rolled her eyes to herself. Great. They had already talked. “You are weak. It’s pathetic for a Saiyan to laze about all day.”
“Fine, fine.” She wasn’t going to argue about Saiyan heritage before coffee. She threw her blanket off and got out of bed, mumbling expletives under her breath the entire time. “Get out so I can get some gym clothes on.”
Vegeta left without saying a word, slamming her door shut.
She had the worst parents ever.
—
“I’m so going to kill you,” she growled at her father.
He chuckled dryly. “Not at the rate you’re going.”
She was panting, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. They were in the gravity chamber for its durability alone, the gravity wasn’t even pumped up at all, and here she was, winded and tired.
He sent a ki blast at her foot, and she was barely able to dodge. “Gimme a sec!”
“Do you think a warrior would ‘give you a sec’ in battle?!” He shot another blast at her, this one hitting her thigh.
She yelped. It was obvious he was holding back, holding back a lot , which made it more insulting. Angry tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m not a warrior! Why would I be in battle with one?!”
Vegeta growled, dashing so quickly to face her that she missed most of his movement. She swallowed the lump in her throat. He had a burning fury in his eyes and he spoke through clenched teeth. “You are all spoiled princess and not a drop Saiyan.”
She moved to punch his face but he dodged as if he were getting out of reach from a toddler. “Pathetic.”
A loud beep interrupted them. “How’s it going?” Bulma asked, her face plastered on a large screen.
“Go away!” they shouted in unison.
She beeped out of existence, leaving Bulla to vent her frustration out on the world’s worst punching bag. She couldn’t even touch him if she wished for it with the dragon balls.
“I give up,” she finally said, dropping to the floor and laying on her back.
“Tch.” Her father stood, arms folding, glaring down at her. “Where did we go wrong with you?”
“Mom is allowed to be a beautiful genius, isn’t that enough for me too?” she complained, closing her eyes and allowing the cool floor beneath her to cool her.
“Yes, well, mom isn’t an heir to the Saiyan throne, isn’t tasked with keeping the Saiyan legacy alive-”
Bulla groaned, covering her ears. “Enough about the legacy!”
“I wish you were stronger just so I could smack some sense into you.” He left her alone in the chamber.
She let out a breath. She knew her mother meant well, but training with her dad was either going to kill her or make her flee the planet forever. There just had to be another way.
—
“Okay, so I called 18-”
Bulla slammed her forehead down onto the kitchen table. There was no stopping her mother.
“-and I didn’t say anything, but I just asked a bit about her bedroom life-”
“Mom, please, I’m going to throw up.” She did not want to think about Android 18 and Krillin getting it on. They were practically her aunt and uncle. They had Marron, so she knew it was happening, but still.
“This is gonna sound gross for a second, I’m sorry, but I need to say it.” Bulma sat down across from her at the small round table. Bulla peaked her eye out from her face’s resting place on the tabletop. Her mother continued. “Your father is one of the strongest warrior’s in the universe and he’s never broken anything of mine-”
“UGH,” Bulla sputtered, hiding her face in her arms.
“I told you you’d think it’s gross. But think about it! There are so many really, really strong people out there with human partners!”
Bulla peaked an eye out again.
“And none of us humans have ended up in the hospital. It’s all about control . I know you’re not a fighter. I’m not saying you need to be one! But you have an innate power, a strength that you can’t be rid of. You shouldn’t want to be rid of it either, sweetie, it makes you special,” she said with a smile, patting her arm. Bulla rolled her eyes. “But anyway, you are naturally too strong for earthling boys. You need to work on controlling your power. It’s possible, most of my couple friends are mixed between alien or android warriors and humans.”
She nodded, sitting up. “You’re right.”
“I know,” her mother grinned back. “So how did training with your dad go?”
“Absolutely terrible.”
“As expected.” Bulma tapped her index finger against her chin, thinking. She suddenly snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it!”
—
“Please, Gohan! I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t serious!” Bulma was pacing in her lab, talking into her cell phone.
“I’m sorry, Bulma, but I am swamped!” Gohan told her over the phone. “Between lecturing during the day and researching at night, I am burned out! You know how it goes when you’re in the middle of a research project…”
She sighed. She did know. “Okay, well, do you have any suggestions for me? I’m kinda running out of Saiyans on speed dial.”
He chuckled. “Oh! Gimme a sec.”
She waited, pausing at her desk. She felt her phone buzz against her ear.
“There!” Gohan said. “That’s Goten’s number. He’s been freelancing jobs lately, so I’m sure he could find time to help out.”
“Oooh, I could pay him too, of course!”
“Well, ask him, I’m not sure what his situation is at the moment.”
“Is he still living with Chichi?” Bulma asked, looking up at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time she saw Goten. Ever since Trunks joined the Galactic Patrol, it was like he fell off of her radar. Those two used to be attached at the hip.
“No, he moved into an apartment of his own some time ago, but still sends some money home to mom.”
“Awww, I love you mommy’s boys,” Bulma cooed.
Gohan groaned. “Bulma, I’m 42, when are you gonna stop babying me?”
She giggled. “When I’m dead! Thanks, Gohan! Have a good night!” She hung up before he could say anything, and she quickly scrolled her phone to pull up the text with Goten’s number. How should she word this?
How about: Hey Goten! My daughter keeps breaking men- No, she wouldn’t like that. She had to keep it simple, with a kernel of truth.
Hey Goten! It’s Bulma Briefs. I heard you might be looking for work? I’m trying to find a personal trainer for Bulla and she’s not quite human enough for the gym, and not quite Saiyan enough for her father. Would you be interested?
She gave her message a quick re-read before hitting send. Perfect. She pocketed her phone but instantly felt a buzz . She pulled it back out.
“Hey Mrs. B! Sure thing! Can she swing by the dojo sometime tomorrow?”
Bulma grinned. She really was a genius.
—
“Goten?” Bulla crinkled up her nose in thought. “I don’t know…”
“Come on! It’s a perfect solution. I literally have no other Saiyans I can reach out to. He’s bound to understand your problem.” Her mother said at her desk, blowing into a hot mug of coffee.
“Tch. I am not telling him about my problem.”
Her mother cracked a smile. “It is a little embarrassing, huh?”
“Mom, please,” Bulla cupped her face in her hand. “Jason won’t even return my calls!”
Bulma put her mug down on her desk, avoiding the many Os on the wood that had been left by drinks over decades. “Oh, sweetie…we’ll figure it out.”
She pushed her hand through her hair and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll give it a shot. Or become a hermit.”
—