Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue 

Welcome, Future Star Seeker Scout!

If you're reading this letter, congratulations! You've been accepted into the most prestigious and universally coveted organization in the cosmos: the Star Seeker Scouts, Troop No. 669 – Youth Division .

Enclosed in this package, you'll find several essential items to kickstart your scouting journey and ensure a stellar Star Seeker Scouts career:

• Your official Star Seeker Scout uniform
• The Star Seeker Scout Handbook
• Two backup universal cartography kits
• Ten marshmallow order forms to sell 100 units each
• And most importantly, your scouting headgear!

On behalf of the Star Seeker Scouts Council, we hope you're as eager as we are for the journey you're about to embark on. It is both a privilege and a duty to uphold the legacy of this organization. Our mission is twofold: to preserve the vibrant cultural history of the universe and to instill purpose, excellence, and resilience in every scout. Every relic retrieved will be preserved and showcased at the Museum of Imperial Treasures on Planet Frieza-58. Furthermore, your troop number and troop group photograph will be displayed on a plaque beside the relic to immortalize your bold and courageous efforts.

However, no great mission is without its practical demands. Each scout is tasked with achieving a minimum of 1,000 units sold of our iconic and universally beloved Star Seeker Marshmallows . As a proud nonprofit 501(c)(3)(4)(5)(6)(☉‿☉) organization, we rely on the sweet success of our marshmallow sales to keep the scouting dream alive and the stars within reach!

Gear up, young scout, and prepare to aim for the stars, nothing less than the utmost excellence will do.

With high honor and higher expectations,

Frieza Cold
Commander Lord General-in-Chief

P.S. Please refer to the brochure and commit the Star Seeker Scouts Mission, Law, and Oath to memory.

P.S.S. Due to a disgruntled employee who took it upon themselves to commit arson at our largest production facility, we no longer provide our scouts with complimentary marshmallow samples as supplies are now limited. We appreciate your understanding.

★•☆•★

Mission

To boldly retrieve relics from the farthest reaches of space for the cultural preservation of our cosmos and spread the goodwill of the Star Seeker Scouts through the shared joy of Marshmallows.

Law

A Star Seeker Scout is courageous, obedient, resourceful, prepared, resilient, loyal, handy, inventive, astute, thrifty, fearless, cunning, impeccably dressed and precise.

Oath

"On my honor, I will stay true to the Star Seeker Scout's Law, retrieve as many relics as my body is willing and able to, and sell marshmallows across the cosmos with pride ."

Chapter Text

Chapter 1. 

Rule #1 A Star Seeker Scout must always obey their next in command

Light-years from Earth, on a terraformed asteroid drifting in stable orbit, a group of boys stood at attention, bracing for impact, not from an enemy attack but from the verbal onslaught currently barreling toward them.

"Alright, listen up here, you runts!" Nappa bellowed out. His height towered over a row of rag-tag youngsters in ill-fitted uniforms. They straightened their backs at his call and raised two saluting fingers to their brows. Their ill-fitted uniforms barely held together as they snapped to attention, raising two fingers in a haphazard salute.

"Frieza is NOT happy with you lot!" He continued, "This pathetic excuse for a troop has gone through a full star system revolution without retrieving a single relic, and to make matters worse, marshmallow sales are down! Quite frankly, my ass—errr, I mean, my paycheck will be on the line if you lousy chumps don't whip yourselves back into shape! And if I don't get paid, then this whole troop will be eliminated, and each of your sorry excuses for breathing beings won't ever be allowed back into the Star Seeker Scout organization ever again!" He shouted.

Saliva spewed from Nappa's mouth, landing on Vegeta's face.

Vegeta wrinkled his nose in disgust and raised his hand.

There was a notable pause before Nappa sighed in resignation. "Yes, Vegeta."

"Sir, sales are down because the economy in the eastern quadrant is suffering from a recession due to the galactic trade market crash. Also, the planets in this subsector are too primitive. They still rely on physical banknotes and—"

"I DID NOT ASK FOR EXCUSES!!!" Nappa shouted, a vein bulging from his forehead.

Raditz gave Vegeta a sidelong glance and snickered.

"Cut it out," Vegeta whispered, elbowing Raditz's in the rib.

"Now… Where was I?" Nappa ran a hand up and down his face. "Our next expedition is not going to be an easy one, kids. We're going to have to put our cartography skills to the test to find Planet C-T500X. Those of you who have passed their Galatic Cartography test the last quarter moon form a single line. We're going to partner up with those who didn't pass."

Silence fell over the scouts save for a couple coughs. Some of their tiny heads poked around, looking left and right. Only two boys stepped forward. Zarbon and Dodoria.

"You mean to tell me only two out of the eighteen of you overgrown toddlers passed your Galatic Cartography test?" A bead of sweat formed on Nappa's brow. "Alright then, that's fine, I get it. Cartography isn't for everyone. Too artsy-fartsy. How about Oort Cloud Wayfinding? Those of you with your Oort Cloud Wayfinding badges fall in line!"

Once again, not a peep from the scouts. And much to Nappa's dismay, Zarbon and Dodoria stepped backward, their heads lowered in shame.

"Sweet mother of—" Nappa slapped his palm over his face, doing his best to mask his hopeless expression, and muttered a few lewd curse words under his breath. 

He looked disappointed in the way a middle-aged man often looks when having to babysit and instill motivation within a group of underachieving youth—which is exactly what Troop No. 669 of the Star Seeker Scouts was. An overgrown troop of sissies. A lost cause. A joke. And Frieza was beginning to notice. Usually, a troop could get by retrieving a minimum of six relics a year without the fear of being shut down so long as Marshmallow sales were optimal. But Troop 669 was the scrappiest, scrawniest, and most pathetic troop in the galaxy, and it was Nappa's crappy luck to be stuck leading these useless tots.

"You know what? We're doing this the hard way. I'm going to tell it like it is. We have forty solar standard days to locate at least one relic before your Commander Lord General in Chief cuts us loose. If we don't retrieve a single relic within those forty days, this troop will be disqualified from the organization. No sister troop will accept your re-admissions, and I will lose my title as a Star Seeker Scout Master... permanently! No amount of marshmallow sales will save our asses. It's one relic or we are done for!" Nappa glares at the crowd of boys. "Do we have an understanding?!"

"Yes, Scout Master Nappa." They all quietly chirp in unison.

"What are you, a bunch of fairies? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"YES, SCOUT MASTER NAPPA!"

"That's better." Nappa straightened out his uniform and firmly held down a button on his scouter. "I'm sending over intel on Planet C-T500X. The planet is partial gas, so this means…?"

"We'll need our emergency barf bags." The boys monotonously repeat back, some less enthusiastic than others.

Nappa grinned, a slight flash of approval. "That's right. And please, for the love of the quantum void, do NOT share barf bags. That's gross even by my standards. If you forget to bring it along, that's on you." His eyes flickered to Raditz, as if the comment was personal.

"Pair up. Teams of two. Study the intel and report back to me with your plan of attack. This relic is located in a zone free of sentient life forms. Still, we'll traverse a tundra home to hyper-aggressive lava buffaloes. It's their mating season. They're going to be rambunctious. I expect a flawless plan with minimal confrontation and environmental disturbances. The duo with the best strategy will lead the expedition. Those who can stomach this planet without losing their lunch will receive the Treacherous Gas Terrain Mastery Badge. Yup, that it'll be simple, no test. Remember, it's all in the breath!" Nappa reached into his pocket and held up a flashy patch. "This here is a fun one to add to your collection, changes colors! And the ladies suuuuure do love 'em… hehe! Not that you should know what ladies like yet… err, but you will soon! Any questions?"

Raditz sheepishly inched his hand up.

"Put your hand down, Raditz." Nappa barked.

Raditz went beet red and lowered his hand, earning a snicker from Vegeta.

"Report back in an hour. Now move!"

The scouts scattered, boots clattering against the cold metal floor. Nappa waited until the last of them was out of sight before he pulled a flask from his pocket, taking a long, measured swig. "Forty days of this," he muttered to no one in particular. His shoulders deflated in dread.

In the war room, Raditz toyed with a small, spinning gadget between his fingers, the faint whir cutting through Vegeta's droning. His tail lazily flicked in the air. He wasn't even pretending to listen.

"…and once we infiltrate the primary zone without waking the mummies on sentry duty, we'll get to the main switch, allowing us to disable the laser defense grid." Vegeta ran through the drill, "but to perform the dance, this requires a lot of care, coordination, and— Raditz! "

The gadget froze mid-spin as Vegeta's glare locked onto him. "Would you quit playing with that and focus?"

Raditz blinked, feigning innocence. "I am focusing. This helps me pay attention."

Vegeta's jaw tightened. "If you don't put that thing away, I will throw it down the trash incinerator."

As he shoved the toy back into his pocket, Raditz mumbled something about Vegeta being no fun. "Now, as I was saying—timing is critical. If we screw this up, we risk falling into the poison pit."

Vegeta hashed out the remainder of the plan, doing most, if not all, of the work, to no one's surprise.

The hour was up, and Nappa reviewed each strategy with individual enthusiasm, eventually settling on Zarbon and Dodoria's plan.

Vegeta huffed in disdain after hearing the final announcement. His plan didn't even come close to winning. Raditz seemed unaffected. His attention was back to his spinning gadget once more.

"We wake up at 0500 hours tomorrow!" Nappa announced his final reminder before lights out. "Report to the main deck by 0600 and aboard the starship. We'll undergo 12 days in stasis. And DON'T forget your barf bags. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir!" The scouts saluted.

A few lingering voices and mindless chattering filled the darkness when the lights shut off in the barracks. Boys from the top bunks let their legs dangle, calling out to their friends across the room in hushed tones. Gradually, the conversations faded until all that was left was the cacophony of Dodoria's wheezing snores.

Vegeta tossed and turned on his cot, his frustration mounting as sleep eluded him, no thanks to Dodoria.

"Worse than a fossil fuel engine." He grumbled.

Furious, Vegeta plugged his ears and buried his face under his pillow, hoping to drown out the assault on his ears so that sleep would arrive sooner rather than later.

★•☆•★

Vegeta's eyes blinked open, sweeping away the last remnants of sleep. A rare sensation hit him. He felt well rested. Too rested. Suspiciously so. Yawning with his arms outstretched, he rose to sit in his cot and then froze.

Huh?

His shoulders tensed, and a sharp intake of breath caught in his chest. The barracks were empty. Each bed was neatly made.

How could this be?

Frantically, he snatched up his wristwatch.

His stomach dropped.

0900 hours. 

No. This must be a mistake! 

But it wasn't. While Vegeta was catching up on beauty sleep, the rest of his troop had already cleared out, boarding the starship bound for Planet CT500X.

"Damn you Dodoria!" He hissed through clenched teeth. I must have been so sleep-deprived… I did hear the wake-up call. Ugh!!! That pink hog!!! How dare he?!

How he managed to snooze past the blaring alarm, the morning racket of his fellow scouts, and the clang of their heavy boots was truly a mystery. He must have needed the shut-eye if none of those things managed to rouse him from his slumber.

Why didn't you wake me, Raditz?

Vegeta could feel the heat rise to his cheeks, as he imagined Raditz smirking, watching him sleep with petty satisfaction while everyone else filed out of the room. The idiot probably thought it was hilarious.

Shaking his head, he sprang to his feet and started to get ready despite how ire his situation looked.

Vegeta stood at the command console, arms crossed, staring at the screen before him. He entered the coordinates for Planet CT500X and waited until the glowing points sprange to life. There it was, blinking in steady intervals. His scouter faintly buzzed with standard communication updates from other troops on the same server. He turned down the volume to increase his focus.

His tail wrapped tightly around his waist as his brows knit together, mulling over his options. If he was lucky, he could sit back and catch up on administrative duties—perhaps procure more orders for Star Seeker Scout Marshmallows at the nearest port. No… It didn't matter. There would be consequences if he didn't at least try to plot a course to Planet CT500X. Staying back was not an option. And he wasn't going to allow himself to be the butt of the troop's jokes if they caught on to the fact he was missing from the expedition the whole time. Raditz would make it painfully obvious. No one would pair up with that dolt besides Vegeta.

Vegeta groaned. It became glaringly obvious what he had to do. He must plot his course and take a pod. Alone. He swallowed. He wasn't proficient in solo spacefaring. He didn't even have his Galactic Pilot Badge. To be fair, most of the scouts in his troop had not earned that badge yet. That wasn't a skill that was fully mastered until a scout was at least fifteen solar standard revolutions of age. He was only eleven.

His tail lashed once before curling back around his waist, a telltale sign of his apprehension. This was going to be a risky journey. But he had to prove himself. Perhaps Nappa will award him with his new badges for his bravery. The prestige behind so many badges awarded at once started to feel too attractive to turn down. 

Vegeta smirked as he envisioned himself decked out in new pins shining on his breastplate, explaining what each one meant, rubbing his newfound glory in Zarbon's face.

He made up his mind. He pulled out his cartography kit and linked it up with the console. The software flickered to life. He studied the maps and cosmological anomalies, muttering to himself as he plotted pathways between checkpoints.

"Ah yes! Through the Valkyrie Nebula… oh, never mind, too much turbulence. Around the Euridyce Belt? No, too slow. Ah, that's it! The Kronos complex! Hmmm… no, that darn beast will swallow my pod whole." He adjusted the markers several more times, connecting dots on the holographic grid. After some effort, the most efficient route lit up before him, glowing a faint blue.

"There," he said under his breath with a satisfied grin. "Perfect. Didn't even need a stupid cartography badge for that!"

Vegeta transferred the coordinates to his pod's navigation system. His hurried fingers flew across the interface; he was so confident he didn't bother checking twice. He knew everything was right. The console beeped in confirmation: DATA TRANSFER COMPLETE. ROUTE OPTIMIZED FOR LAUNCH.

The pod's engines hummed softly, signaling readiness for launch. Vegeta stared at it momentarily, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. If he failed... he could end up lost in the vacuum of space. But if he succeeded?

His lips curled into a smirk. He'd succeed. He always did.

Without another thought, Vegeta climbed into the pod, the hatch sealing behind him with a hiss. He paused, suddenly feeling like he was forgetting something. His knapsack was already packed to the brim. So what exactly was it?

The barf bag!

He emerged from the pod, ran up to his cot in the barracks, grabbed his barf bag, and flew down to the lower level to avoid wasting more time.

The hatch sealed itself shut once more. His fingers froze over the controls as a wave of doubt consumed him, but heshoved the thought away. He had to get this over with. Being a coward and staying back was simply not an option. Before he could convince himself that this was a horrible idea, he input the command to commence the launch sequence. The engine hissed and roared to life, vibrating beneath him as the countdown began.

"Coordinates locked. Launching in three… two… one…”

The pod blasted off, the sudden acceleration pressing him back into his seat until he broke past the last of the exosphere. Stars streaked past the viewport as the small craft shot into the endless void.

As the pod stabilized in its flight, a gentle hum filled the cabin.

"Stasis will commence in T-minus 90 seconds."

Vegeta relaxed in his seat, feeling his body growing heavier as the stasis system engaged. His eyelids fluttered shut into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2.

Rule #183 A Star Seeker Scout must always come prepared.

The stasis gas in the pod had worn off as it neared the pull of the planet's orbit. Vegeta blinked a few times, his vision sharpening. He glanced at the time.

"Perfect. Only a few hours behind them. I should be able to triangulate their position."

He tapped through the controls on his scouter headset and frowned.

"Hmmm."

Not a single one of his troop members was within range.

Surely , there was a perfectly reasonable explanation, like a solar storm or a temporary signal jam.

Once he'd landed within the atmosphere's safety, he told himself he'd just check in again and fly to wherever his troop was.

He peered out through the small circular viewport. 

He frowned. 

Then frowned harder.

This was  not a  partial gas planet.  This looked like an aquatic planet. 

…Probably nothing. 

The planet grew larger and larger, and he braced himself.

The computer's notification system chirped, flashing a slew of navigational and power bank error messages, but he turned the screen off, the incessant pings irking him.

PREPARE FOR LANDING, 5 MINUTES.

He tightened his grasp on the harness, the only thing keeping him from jostling around the pod like a rag doll during atmospheric entry.

PREPARE FOR LANDING, 30 SECONDS.

Vegeta exhaled sharply. This was the part he hated—the G-force during the last 30 seconds of pod travel could make even the most seasoned scouts hurl. Good thing he didn't eat a huge meal before going into stasis.

The force hit. His body slammed against the seat as the pod screeched through the atmosphere.

IMPACT.

It was rough—as expected—but at least he hadn't exploded on entry. A cause for celebration, considering a large percentage of Frieza's scouting pods had been recalled for spontaneously combusting.

LANDING SUCCESSFUL. SYSTEM WILL SHUT OFF IN 60 SECONDS TO CONSERVE POWER.

Vegeta groaned and rubbed his neck. The hatch hissed as it opened, and Vegeta crawled out, eager to stretch his legs. His boots crunched on the remains of charred crops. 

"Seems oddly hospitable here. No volatile gases or lava buffaloes?" He narrowed his eyes at what lay ahead. "Am I on a farm?"

He gulped and then froze. This was not Planet CT500X. He messed up big time.

He went to turn on his pod's computer, desperately pressing the on button. The power flickered once, then died. A blinking sad face, the low power symbol, was all that displayed.

His face went stark white. "Oh dear gods, no, don't tell me…"

He slammed the side of the pod. Nothing.

"...No. No, no, no!"

Yup. He was stranded. Stuck somewhere on a backwater planet that might not even be technologically compatible to propel him further than the nearest moon. This was just great. Just perfect! He groaned. An image of his father scolding him appeared. It was unbecoming of a prince to be so helpless, but after realizing he was fresh out of options, he swallowed his pride and called the Star Seeker Scout support line.

The line rang twice before an automated bot picked it up.

Thank you for calling Star Seeker Scout's support line. How may we assist you today? 

"Issue with my solo—"

How may we assist you today?

Vegeta groaned in annoyance. "Issue with my solo pod!"

I'm sorry. I did not catch that. Please try speaking again.

"ISSUE WITH MY SOLO POD!"

Got it. We are now connecting you with an agent who can help.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the hold music—some gods awful flute version of the Star Seeker Scouts anthem—played through his scouter.

Beeeeeeeep.

"Hello. My name is Xork at the Pod Diagnostics Unit. How may I assist you today?

"I think my pod malfunctioned. It crash-landed on some backwater planet and won't start."

"Oh no! That sounds quite serious. Have you tried turning it on and off again?"

Was this guy serious? "Uh... Did you not hear me? It's not turning on to begin with!"

"Right. Of course, my mistake! Can you confirm your pod model?"

"Model PBNJ, Generation 46.1."

"Ah, got it, thank you. And… Oh dear..."

Vegeta bristled. "What?"

"Sir, this is a vintage model… "

Vegeta scowled. "... So?"

"So! That means it's more prone to catastrophic power failures. But no worries! I'll just need a couple of things. First, provide your license number, and second, the name of the operating system installed.

"Err, I don't have any of that. " Vegeta's voice cracked. "I misplaced my license on a previous mission…" He fibbed, "... and this part of a loaner fleet belonging to Troop 669 under Scout Master Nappa. "

“Scount Master Nappa… that would mean… Oh my! " The agent gasped.

"Sir, are you even legally piloting this thing?"

Vegeta gritted his teeth. "Yes. " ( No. )

The agent sighed, not sounding convinced.

Vegeta clenched his fists. "Can you fix it or not!? "

"Let's start with basics. Did your system give you any errors before the crash?"

Vegeta suddenly remembered he had ignored several flashing alerts.

"Uh. Maybe. "

" Can you confirm your last known coordinates?"

Vegeta huffed. "Yes. Quadrant 559, Sector 9, Subsector 42, Grid Point… 2...4...9… uh… 8… 0—wait."

He froze. Vegeta's stomach plummeted.

He slowly reread the last three digits. "...9… 8… 0… 1?"

A long pause.

Xork finally spoke. "Ah. There's the problem! That last coordinate doesn't exist yet. "

" Excuse me?!"

"Yep! The pod's systems got confused, defaulted to emergency landing mode, and rerouted to the nearest habitable planet. It's an energy conservation feature to avoid being stranded in deep space. "

" Why didn't it just direct me back home!?"

"These vintage models are fussy. The moment their systems come across a coordinate it doesn't recognize, it ends the journey. Sorry, I don't mean to talk your ear off about how all this stuff works… you probably know all of that already… It's in the manual."

"No one reads the manual!"

The agent clicked their tongue in disapproval. "I read the manuals..."

Vegeta was seething. "Are you telling me I'm lost in space because I fat-fingered one number?!"

"It happens to the best of us!"

Vegeta growled. "So what now?! "

" Your pod likely short-circuited, a common issue with the vintage models when bombarded with system errors, but I wouldn't sweat it. We can easily fix this! Just plug the pod into your backup power cell for a factory reset, fix the coordinates, and then you'll be good to go ! You do have your backup power cell with you, right?"

"Um…"

"Oh dear. Oh my. Rule #183 of the Star Seeker Scout's Handbook clearly states that a Star Seeker Scout must always come prepared! So this one's on you, buddy. "

"Ugh!  Whatever!" Vegeta exhaled. "Tell me, what are my other options?"

" Well there is one more thing you could try. Your model has an emergency fossil fuel reserve. It's likely empty but if you can find high-octane gas, you should be able to make it to the next outpost on Asteroid B-00716."

"... Fossil fuel?"

"Yep! Just regular old gasoline should do the trick!"

Vegeta scoffed. "How archaic. " He rubbed his temples. "What can you tell me about this planet? Perhaps there is a space flight depot…"

The agent hummed as they typed. "Hmm, my systems say this is a primitive planet, according to the last probe we sent back in the 25th Age. Still in its prehistoric era. Oh! And lots of water! At least seventy-five percent. Time for a swim, am I right? " The agent chuckled to himself.

Vegeta's patience was wearing thin. "What about any sentient lifeforms and their technology?"

"Well, as far as sentient life goes, these reports say there are none. The species at the top of the food chain is still far from forming anything close to civilized society. Looks like they're stuck in their hunter-gatherer stages…"

Vegeta groaned as the agent rambled. Hunter-gatherer stages? That meant he was stranded here unless someone plotted a rescue mission. How humiliating. 

"...Anyway! I'll send documents and media files to your scouter so you can get an idea of what to expect. Reports on everything from the flora, fauna—the whole works! Plenty of bipedal mammals scurrying around in their birthday suits. So that's fun if you're into that sort of thing. Oh, wait—whoops! Youth Division, right? Forget I said anything."

Vegeta's scowl deepened.

The agent continued. "Anyway, these mammals show no promising signs of organized thought. They haven't evolved past sharpened sticks and throwing rocks. They still worship the sight of fire—Oh, this one's funny! I just found a video of two males in wearing loin cloths, beating their chests at each other. Interesting fashion choice!"

Vegeta gritted his teeth.

"Enough! I get it. So is that all?"

"That's all I got for you today! Best of luck, fellow scout. Anything else I can help with?"

"No. " Vegeta huffed and hung up. He had wasted far too much time talking to that fool.

And just when he thought things couldn't get worse, he bumped into something small, delicate… and sticky.

" What in the— " His palms began firing up an orb of ki, an automatic reflex, but he quickly powered down when he saw what, or rather, who it was.

A child half his size, dressed in denim overalls, stared blankly at him. He chewed on something, then blew a bubble—POP. Pink gum splattered across his cheek.

The boy smacked his lips, peeling the gum off his face and back into his mouth again. " Uh, 'scuse me, but you b lew'd up p apa's scarecrow. "

Vegeta wrinkled his nose as he observed the crusty-looking kid. "His what?! " He didn't mean to shout, but in all fairness, he was trying to process the fact that he had just crashed on a primitive mudball and wanted to leave immediately.

"His scarecrow. " The boy sucked his teeth. "He ain't gonna be happy 'bout that." He pointed what was now a pile of ash.

"Not my problem, out of my way! "

He shot past the child, sprinting toward the edge of the field. But instead of a clear escape route, he found himself at the border of a dense forest. Great. This was getting worse by the second.

He launched into the sky to get a better view of the land. In the distance he spotted what looked like modern civilization, which was weird because according to the most recent probe reports, this planet was supposed to be primitive. Why would towering skyscrapers exist where there are only hunter-gatherers? That support agent was indeed useless. Without giving it more thought, Vegeta flew toward the city, determined to find answers.

Vegeta soared above rooftops and paved roads. The natives were clearly sentient and drove around in shiny, colorful vehicles. Judging by the faint scent of petrol in the air, a fossil fuel station had to be nearby. As the city grew larger on the horizon, the dwellings beneath started looking more sophisticated, the landscaping more prim and organized.

A strange energy tugged at his chest . It relentlessly pulled at him like a lifeline in the dark. His instincts had him track down whatever the source of that magnetic energy was.

He stopped midair, staring at a building where lines of children were marching inside.

The energy he felt seemed to lead him here. Could the source of this energy be inside that building? He wondered.

At this point, Vegeta had already come to accept he would be in deep trouble with Scout Master Nappa, so he figured he might as well make the most of his unplanned detour and explore.

With a graceful thud, his boots landed on the pavement, startling a group of students. Vegeta ignored their gawking faces and walked inside the building.

A chipper voice beamed over a speaker.

"Good morning bright students of West City Elementary! Our Annual Science Fair will begin in twenty minutes! Please report to the gymnasium instead of your classrooms. I repeat, report the gymnasium instead of your classrooms. Your teachers WILL take attendance, and truancy will not be tolerated as there will be consequences. Have a stellar day! Gooooo Panthers!!!"

Vegeta snorted. What a bizarrely cheerful way to issue a threat.

He followed the crowd into the gymnasium, snaking his way through rows of what he assumed were the so-called projects of this science fair. As he weaved through the rows, students glared at him. He shook off the feeling of self-consciousness. It didn't matter. He could squash this entire building under the weight of his ki blast if he really wanted to. The only thing he cared about right now was to track down the source of that mysteriously magnetic energy that led him to this place.

Vegeta turned, moved up to the stage, and walked behind a curtain, where more students were seated with their projects.

The tug at his chest transformed into an uncomfortable ringing in his ears with no end in sight. What was the meaning of this?! He rubbed at his temples to ease the discomfort of the ringing in his ears until— WHAM!

He smacked face-first into a door. Cursing, rubbing his forehead, he shoved it open. All the discomfort that assaulted his senses from before had come to a merciful halt as he laid eyes on her.

A young girl with skin that glowed under the fluorescent light tinkered with a small piece of circuitry, her tongue sticking out in concentration. The waves of her impossibly cerulean hair swayed as she tilted her head. A strand of hair fell past her ears and in front of her eyes. She scowled as she tucked the lock back.

Vegeta stiffened. Was this where the energy led him? That tugging on his chest, that ringing in his ears? Her ki felt familiar and foreign all at once. She had to be close to his age. Vegeta wanted to get the girl's attention, but she was lost in her work. So he did what any prince with zero social skills would do to command her attention.

" AHEM! "

Her head shot up, and she held his gaze. Vegeta felt something tighten in his chest. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them looked away.

Vegeta broke the silence first. He nodded toward the device in front of her. "What is that?"

"A wireless intergalactic communicator."

Vegeta arched a brow. "What does it do?"

"I built it for the Science Fair. It sends messages into space. " She said with a proud grin.

" You created this?"

"That's right. "

Sends messages in space… so is this a space-faring civilization?

He crossed his arms. "Why would you need to do that? "

Bulma scowled. She didn't take skeptics too kindly. "To communicate with astronauts on the international space station, of course! "

Vegeta's tail unwrapped from his waist and flicked curiously in the air. He leaned in to get a closer at the device but found himself staring at her instead. The desire to get closer unnerved him. What was she? Some type of witch?

Bulma's eyes widened when noticed something move behind him. "Is… that a tail?"

"Yes. " He said, as a matter-of-factly.

"Is it real?"

Vegeta looked offended. "Of course."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you have one?"

"I was born with it."

Bulma found herself leaning closer toward him as well. "Where were you born?"

He was about to say Planet Vegeta—about his father, his royal lineage—but he stopped himself. The less she knew, the better. One could never be too careful in space.

"Somewhere far. "

" How far?"

"Not in this solar system, far."

Her lips curled into a smirk. "You don't say."

Vegeta scowled. He had no idea why she was smirking, but he hated it. And yet, for some reason—He didn't leave.

Vegeta hesitated. He felt an almost gravitational pull toward this strange, infuriating, impossibly blue-haired girl. He would have to ask Nappa why once he returned to his Troop's base.

"Your hair… " His voice came out lower than he intended. "Why do you look so different from the others?"

She blinked, startled by the question. Then, as if suddenly self-conscious, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Blush rose to her cheeks. "I was born with it, too. " She pointed to his scouter. "What's that thing you're wearing?"

"It's called a scouter. "

" ... A scouter?"

"Yes. A wireless intergalactic communicator. Like yours."

Bulma frowned, not because she was worried he was competing against her in the science fair, but because she had spent weeks—months—working on her prototype with her father. As far as they knew, this was the world's first device of its kind . And yet, here was this bizarre kid with spiky hair, strange armor, and… a tail. Was he a foreign exchange student? Was this tail a biological anomaly she hadn't heard of? Those were some of the burning questions that cycled through Bulma's mind before she was snapped out of it by her teacher's beckoning voice.

"Bulma! Are you ready?"

"Yes, Mrs. Thompson! " Bulma shifted away from Vegeta and began to pack up her things. "I'm going to present in front of the whole school. Will you stick around afterward?"

Vegeta's insides swirled. Why did she want to know if he'd stick around? He quickly averted her eyes, feigning disinterest. "I can't."

Bulma furrowed her brows, and that flicker of disappointment struck a chord within Vegeta. But why did he care so much? He told himself he didn't. And yet, his feet remained fixed to the floor, and he watched her silently as she hoisted the heavy machine onto a cart and walked off.

Once she left his sight, the strange ringing in his ears returned. The tugging sensation pulled at his chest again.

Vegeta didn't leave. He walked toward the back of the gymnasium and leaned against the wall, watching with his arms tightly crossed as she presented her invention.

"... I'll connect my communicator to another compatible device. My father sent a couple of these in space, so let's contact one of the astronauts on the station! " She turned the dial. The machine emitted oscillating pitches as she turned it on and began entering codes into the built-in computer.

Vegeta, looking bored against the wall jolted out of his relaxed position as a sharp, high-pitched interference rang out of his scouter, piercing his eardrums. He tore the headset off. What the?!

"Hooray! I've connected… Hmm, oh wait. That's not right. Probably just nothing! Let's try that one more time. " The entire gymnasium went quiet with anticipation. "Ah, that's it! We've connected to the American astronauts! Let's send them a message. " Bulma beamed, putting on what looked like a headset with a microphone. "Hello! This is Bulma Briefs of West City Elementary. Do you read me? I repeat this is Bulma Briefs Of West City Elementary. Do you read me? Over."

The audience held their breath for a full minute until a red light on the console blinked in steady intervals .

"Oh my goodness, it worked! The light is blinking! That means they've left us a message back! Let's play it. " The crowd oooh'd and awed.

"Copy that, Miss Bulma, this is Astronaut Jane. I heard you loud and clear! Over."

Classmates and teachers alike cheered as they broke out into applause. Bulma bowed, thanking the crowd for their time. Vegeta didn't clap. But despite his guarded scowl, he was impressed.

Vegeta watched Bulma walk off stage. From the corner of his eye, he noticed someone approaching him. It was one of Bulma's classmates, and they wordlessly handed him a folded note before walking away.

Vegeta frowned and opened the note.

009-546-907-671-201

–Bulma

What was this sequence of numbers supposed to be all about? He tucked the note away. He'd deal with that later.

Vegeta parted through the crowd of students to track down the blue-haired girl , or rather , Bulma.

He stopped short of the gymnasium's back doors when he spotted her rolling the machine away. The thought occurred to approach her alone and demand her assistance with his crash-landed pod, but Vegeta chickened out. He couldn't bring himself to talk to her. Was he... nervous? He never felt nervous! How absurd of him. Suspicion prickled at the back of his mind. She was too smart . Too resourceful. Too… strange. There was no way she, a mere child, could be the most technologically advanced being on this planet. He was sure he'd find others. He made up his mind and sped out of the building.

Vegeta soared across the city, heading toward the crash site of his pod. This time, he followed the scent of petrol until it grew stronger, its dense odor leading him to an outpost with stations where vehicles were already busy refueling. A neon OPEN sign flashed in the window. This will have to do.

The bell jingled as Vegeta stepped inside the shop. The clerk, a bored-looking teenager, perched on a chair flipping through a magazine.

He didn't even look up. " Hey kid. Can I get ya somethin'?"

Vegeta straightened. "I require several gallons of your strongest and purest fossil fuel at once."

The clerk finally glanced up, raising an eyebrow at Vegeta's strange armor and wild hair.

"Uh, you mean gas? Or like… motor oil?"

"Whatever will power a ship!"

The clerk blinked. "Ship? Like a boat?"

Vegeta slammed his fist on the counter, causing the clerk to jump. "Just give me some damn fuel!"

"Alright, jeez-louise! I'll see what I can do. " The clerk walked into the backroom and began moving around gasoline tanks. The sound of metal clanged throughout the small shop.

The clerk cleared his throat, still moving things around in the back. "So… Uh, Whatcha gettin' up to with that gladiator costume?"

"My WHAT?"

"Yeah, you know, your costume. Looks cool, man!"

"This is NOT some costume! This is standard-issue space armor inspired by my warrior race of people!"

The clerk emerged from the back room, hoisting a tank and setting it on the counter. "Relax, kiddo! There's no need to get into a hissy fit. I was just tryin' to make conversation. " Winded, he wiped the sweat off his brow. That'll be 30 cents."

Vegeta snatched the tank, grunted in approval at the size, and took off without a goodbye or thanks.

"HEY! " The clerk raced out the swinging doors after Vegeta. "You forgot to pay!!!"

But Vegeta was already just a tiny dot in the sky.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3


Rule #751: There will be NO crying in the Star Seeker Scouts.

Prince Vegeta would have surely been dishonorably discharged if it had not been for King Vegeta's well-timed "donation" to the Star Seeker Scouts organization.

While Prince Vegeta may have had nothing but the purest of intentions in his decision to fly a pod to Planet CT500X, it didn't change the fact that his decision turned into a disaster. Vegeta was unlicensed in solo pod flight and navigated to a planet within the outer ridge without diplomatic clearance. Both of these acts were strictly forbidden under Star Seeker Scouts' law and the Galactic Imperial Order.

And sure, w hile his father holds the highest position of authority on Vegetasei, Frieza is a million times more powerful and frightening than the king of all Saiyans. With all of this in mind, the Saiyan king resorted to an age-old tactic to help preserve his son’s honor and membership within the prestigious organization.... Bribery.

★•☆•★

Vegeta hissed with impatience. How long had he been waiting for Scout Master Nappa? Twenty minutes? Maybe more… He shifted in his seat, looking back and forth between his boots and the door, bracing himself for what was to come. 

When the office door flung open at last, Scout Master Nappa trudged in with a parcel tucked under his arm. He cleared his throat so loudly that Vegeta straightened his spine in earnest. 

“Scout.” Nappa addressed Vegeta with a stern nod.

Vegeta stood on his feet and brought his fingers up in a salute.

“At ease.” Nappa sighed, falling back on his office chair. He scowled at Vegeta, who was still standing. “Sit.”  

Vegeta warily watched his Scout Master, expecting the worst. What would his punishment be for missing the wake-up call? For not even showing up to their mission? And worse… for manning a solo pod when he wasn’t cleared for solo space flight. What would happen to the inhabitants of Earth? Did they reverse engineer the coordinates to even know about his mistaken journey to Earth? The scouts were required to report all confrontations with planetary life forms. But something told Vegeta he was better off keeping what he saw and who he met to himself.

Nappa rubbed his temples. “Why don’t you start by telling me what happened?”  

“Huh?" Vegeta scoffed. "Am I in trouble or not ?”

“Yes and no. It pays to be royalty in this case.” Nappa retorted, his tone deadpan. He leaned back in his seat. “So, what happened, kid?” 

“Uh, which part? The part where I missed the wake-up call or the part where I took one of the pods out without authorization?”

Nappa’s jaw clenched. “All of it. Start from the beginning.”

Vegeta frowned. “I… Well, it all started with Dodoria!” 

“Dodoria?” Nappa repeated back, making sure he heard him right. 

“Yeah! And he snored! All night long! I couldn’t sleep, but when I finally did, I must have been so tired in the morning that I didn’t hear anyone or anything. I just woke up, and you were all gone!”

Nappa arched a brow. “And Raditz didn’t wake you?” 

“No, sir.”

“You’re not the first to complain about Dodoria’s snores. I have half a mind to kick him to the curb because of that, but he’s Zarbon’s mission partner of choice, and Zarbon is our highest-performing Scout in the troop. So I can’t do that.”

Vegeta grumbled to himself. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Nappa barked back at Vegeta.

“Nothing… Tch.” 

“Hmm. Better have been nothing. We can't to hand out more detention sentences in this troop. The Ginyu boys alone give us enough trouble… All that dancing. Anyway, continue with your side of the story.” 

“There’s nothing else! I didn’t wake up on time for the mission. I thought that if I took one of the pods to follow you all toward our mission, I’d be in less trouble! But then I got lost. And… yeah.” Vegeta looked down, biting his tongue at his mention of Earth. 

“Kid, I am going to be very candid with you.” Your misconduct almost cost me my job. “You already know you screwed up, so you better thank your lucky stars that your father, our king, intervened and saved your royal ass.” 

Vegeta flinched at the mention of his father. How much did his father exactly know about what happened?! “No…”  

“Oh, yes. And the king wasn’t thrilled to hear of your misconduct, but he sorted it out for you. And boy, oh boy, did it cost him a pretty penny.” Nappa clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Our Commander Lord General-in-Chief, Frieza, would have never agreed to keep you as a scout, but your father stuck his neck out for you. Solo flight without a license is forbidden across the Galaxy. We could have lost you, and I would have been locked away for life for not properly looking after my ward.” 

“But… why didn’t you notice that I wasn’t on the ship when you all took off? I thought it was your job to take attendance.” 

Nappa opened his mouth but was speechless, then frowned at his misstep. Vegeta was right. But, the boy had no business to be a smart ass like that, so he lied. “Scout law states I don’t need to take attendance once a troop has embarked on over a hundred journeys.” 

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at his Scout Master. “I don’t remember reading that in the handbook.” He reached for the thick leather-bound book on Nappa’s desk, but Nappa slapped his hand away. “Don’t undermine me, boy!” 

Vegeta exhaled through his nose, pouting. 

“You’ll still have to answer for your misconduct in some form. I can’t have the other scouts thinking we let you off easy because of who your father is. Effective immediately, you’re grounded for a complete solar cycle, and your new post will be in the southwestern detention quarters. Your duties will be restricted to research, patrol, and the janitorial arts. Under no circumstances will you be allowed to join us on missions, and you will be barred from the elite training facilities until your sentence is complete. You’ll report to Scout Warden Onyan daily, who will then report your progress to me. 

“T-That... That is absurd and uncalled for! You can’t possibly subject me to this! This is a gross waste of my talents!” 

“I can, Vegeta. And I will.” Nappa dropped a vacuum-sealed parcel into Vegeta's lap. “This will be your new uniform.” 

"What the..." Vegeta tore the parcel and the perforated edge and held up the garment in horror. “How humiliating...” Vegeta mumbled curse words under his breath as he stuffed the garment carelessly back into the parcel with disdain.  

He never thought he’d be caught dead wearing the official detention uniform in all his years as a Star Seeker Scout. The striped coverall was a mockery among all, and now... he would have to wear this fashion tragedy. Daily. 

“Try not to cry around Scout Warden Onyan. He isn’t as forgiving as I am of the softer side of emotions.” 

“Tch… I've never cried a day in my life.” 

Nappa shooed him away. “You're dismissed. Scout Warden Onyan expects you and doesn’t tolerate tardiness. Your personal effects are being transferred over as well speak.” 

Vegeta didn’t bother giving Nappa a final salute as he stomped out of the office. This was not happening. If nightmares existed, this was what they were made of.

★•☆•★

Scout Warden Onyan’s barracks were far less opulent than his usual troop's quarters. Not that the Star Seeker Scouts accommodations could ever be called opulent. The furnishings and linens were practical, minimalist, and stark at best. But this? This was squalor. The mattresses were torn. Exposed foam and springs jutted out in all the wrong places. The floors weren’t even metal and showed years of wear and splintering. But the most inconvenient part was that the latrines weren’t attached to the building. He’d have to walk a hundred steps to relieve himself at night. How absurd. Who designed this place?

After settling in his new space, Vegeta was called to his first all-hands meeting on deck. 

A scruffy crew stood in the hall, slouching in their oversized striped coveralls. They turned their heads as Vegeta walked in and immediately gasped, whispering to each other. 

He could already tell this would be the longest solar cycle of his life. 

“Scouts!” Onyan marched in, slamming the door behind him, causing the slouching children to stand tall. “Or should I say, detainees.” 

They all shifted uncomfortably at that word. 

“I received a troubling report from Troop 1083. Their barracks were not cleaned to the Scout Master’s liking, and I quote ‘there was still a lingering stench in the showers.” Onyan sighed. “Why must you make this so hard for yourselves?” 

Onyan scowled as he was met with blank stares. “Two more lunar cycles will be added to your sentences.” 

There was a murmuring uproar at that. 

“SILENCE!” Onyan held up his hand. “Don’t think I won’t hesitate to add a longer sentence.”

★•☆•★

Life in the detention quarters under Scout Warden Onyan was as tiresome and grueling as everyone said it would be. But Vegeta carried on despite his grievances. His father would say that only the weak give up or complain when life gets tough... or in this case, boring. 

But still, this was... belittling. 

Despite his qualms, Vegeta powered through his days without complaint because, deep down, he knows how humiliating it must have been for his father to grovel at Frieza's feet. 

Vegeta didn't understand what was so special about the Star Seeker Scouts. Was it truly the highest honor to be a member of this organization? He often doubted the merit of being a Star Seeker Scout, but he knew better than to voice those doubts outloud. 

Here, in the detention quarters, spirits were so low that after the initial excitement of Vegeta's royal presence, the other scouts paid him no mind. 

It made him realize how much he actually missed that idiot of a Saiyan, Raditz. At least he talked. The scouts in the detention quarters only met him with silent, sulking faces and eyes cast down to the floor. 

A few months passed, and one night after lights-out hour, Vegeta tossed and turned in his uncomfortable cot, unable to fall asleep. Vegeta rose to his feet and opened his scouting kit, hoping the boring task of cleaning it out and reorganizing it back together would lull him to sleep.* 

That’s when he found the loose-leaf paper tucked between the pages of his neglected scouting journal. The cursive, looping handwriting mocked him. 

It was the note that damned Earthling girl wrote. A sequence of numbers. Probably just a way to call her on that archaic machine. 

He kept it all this time—not that he planned on tossing it out. He wasn't in the habit of tossing out vital intel, and it seemed like intel at the time, so he stored it away for safekeeping but ended up forgetting about the note entirely.

He remembered the way the Earthling girl’s eyes sparkled in a most obnoxious manner and her peculiar shade of blue hair that reminded him of the tranquil seas within the tropical regions on Vegetasei. Not that the tropical regions were nice, in fact, the weakest of the Saiyan tribes hail from the tropical regions. It wasn't anything to be proud of.

Gods was he bored. Contacting her through his scouter was starting to seem like the attractive alternative to whatever this dreadful insomnia was. 

What did he have to lose? 

Entertainment, even from a primitive Earthling, would be better than none at all.  

He pressed a button on his scouter. 

“Earth girl. Do you read me? Answer me at once. Over.” He spoke in a hushed tone and looked around, ensuring he didn’t wake anyone in the barracks. 

Nothing.  

“It is I, Prince Vegeta! By the order of Saiyan decree, I require your immediate response! Over.” 

Still nothing.  

Vegeta’s patience was starting to wear thin. “Earth girl, you there? Hello?!” He hissed into his scouter this time, his voice tight, trying to stay as quiet as possible to not give himself away while also maintaining the demand and authority in his tone. 

He realized he never told her his name. He sighed. How could she know who he was? She was probably ignoring him. She likely had so many friends trying to call her every day. 

“Uh… I had the tail, remember? Anyone there?”  

He might as well be talking to a wall. Primitive Earthling technology. It couldn’t withstand the long distance of outer space. He should have known. 

Vegeta groaned, tearing off his scouter.  

Just my luck, he thought, cursing his naivete for allowing himself to feel a morsel of hope that she would receive his call. He pulled the paper-thin blanket over his face so he could wallow in private until he heard his scouter let out a subtle ping.  

Someone was trying to communicate. He froze, sucking in a sharp breath.  

Could that be… her? 

No, impossible. It was likely just standard communication coming through the main pipeline. 

But at this hour? 

Out of curiosity, he had to know, so he placed his scouter over his head to play back the recording… Except it wasn’t a recording! He fumbled through the settings and opened what appeared to be a simple text message, splayed across the HUD interface.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Rule #36: To maintain our superiority and integrity, emotional entanglements with lifeforms from low-tier planets is strictly forbidden. View the last page of the handbook for a list of approved planets.

The message on the scouter’s display flickered to life and Vegeta’s heart skipped a beat at what he saw.

December 20, 12:01am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 1

Dear Vegeta (Am I spelling that right?),

Yes, I remember you. Are you really a prince? I see you finally decided to contact me. Your message came through, and the voice file was corrupted, so I converted the code from voice to text. It wasn't easy! I have never come across this manner of markup language in my life before. It's a good thing I am a genius. I’m typing this into my console as we speak. You remember the one… the intergalactic communicator. 

Unfortunately, my father says I can no longer use the communicator without his supervision. The International Space Station wrote me a cease-and-desist letter because I asked them over 100 questions in a single day. I distracted the astronauts from their duties, and they almost crashed into a satellite. I didn’t mean for that to happen. They have so many astronauts on duty that they could have quickly taken turns communicating with me. I want to be an astronaut someday and, hopefully, travel the stars. 

I am actually using the intergalactic communicator without my father’s knowledge. He usually keeps the console in his lab, which is hard to access during the day since he’s always using it, but father is asleep right now, and he doesn’t know I have the lab entry code. I might not be able to respond again until tomorrow night. I have to be quick here and leave before it’s too late. Goodbye.

Signed,
Bulma 

Vegeta held his breath. She responded to him! But why? She had no shortage of people around her on that puny planet. He smirked at the thought of her father ruling over her with an iron fist. He sounded... stern. Strict. Good. That means she must be strong.

Just as soon as he caught himself smirking, he frowned. The rising sense of elation in his chest confused him. Biting back his pride, he replied to the Earthling girl using the text function of his scouter and entered his response.

December 20, 12:27am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 2

Hello puny and weak Earthling girl,

Of course, I am a Prince!!!! To insinuate that I am not would mean you’re calling me a liar. Slandering anyone of noble descent is a punishable offense, according to the Royal Saiyan decree! Don't make that mistake again unless you have a death wish.

And by the Gods, you sure ask a lot of questions. I pity those “astronauts” and completely understand why they never want to speak to you again.

To answer at least one of your questions because that's all I care to answer, yes, there are quadrillions of intelligent life forms in the Galaxy, but we all live quite far apart. We must bend the space-time fabric and undergo stasis for longer journeys. I don’t understand how it works. I was told it’s like taking a shortcut. I have never heard of the term astronaut, but that sounds like me. I travel in outer space. It’s rather underwhelming. Outerspace is mostly… nothing. I don’t recommend becoming whatever an astronaut is.

Signed,
Vegeta
The Prince of All Saiyans

He sent off his message before his better senses stepped in. It embarrassed him to admit that his heart thumped the entire time he drafted it, and it took him ages to collect his thoughts enough to express the right words. What had gotten into him? She probably bewitched him. 

He awaited her response, but none came. She did mention having to sneak around her father. Vegeta took off his scouter and shook his head, perturbed by what had transpired.  

This obviously meant nothing. 

★•☆•★

A day later, Vegeta stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his midsection, when he noticed his scouter blinking on the counter. A new text notification. 

Probably the Earthling girl with the hideous shade of blue hair.

He almost snatched the device in earnest to check who the message was from when he stopped himself, mortified at his blind excitement.

Tch. Whatever it is... it can wait.  

After dressing and going through his bedtime routine, he found himself on his cot staring at the blinking device as if it had personally insulted him. His hands trembled as he raised the scouter up to his head. If it was her, then who did this Earthling think she was to shamelessly contact the Prince without any reasonable cause?  

Oh right… It was him who reached out to her first. Technically, it's his fault, not that he would admit it. She wouldn't have ever been able to contact him had he just kept his curiousity to himself. 

Vegeta found himself at the crossroads of his pride and loneliness. 

Loneliness won.


 

December 21, 11:35pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 3

Dear Vegeta,

First of all, I don't care what your alien customs are or what you are the prince of... you don't have to be so rude! I have a name! It's Bulma, alright?

And second of all... That sounds incredible! If only my father could learn how to bend the fabric of space-time... And that’s precisely why I would like to become an astronaut. It sounds peaceful yet exhilarating. The emptiness in between the shining stars… The supernovas, the colorful galactic clouds. That’s where I want to be. I don’t like Earth. I don’t have many friends. I don’t seem to get along with kids my age. I think I scare them away because of how smart I am.

We got off to the wrong start. I’m sorry for offending you. I didn’t mean to call you a liar. If you say you're a prince or whatever, then I believe you. I was shocked at first because princes and princesses only exist in fairytales on my planet. I’ve always dreamed of becoming a princess in a pink gown. Pink is my favorite color.

Signed,
Bulma

He smirked. What an insolent and strange girl. A gown? Saiyan princesses would never wear such a thing. Despite her misplaced confidence, it wholly amused him, which was the point. To keep himself amused while he was confined to these dreadful detention quarters.

December 21, 12:26am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 4

Weird Blue-haired Earthling (is that better?),

I don’t get along with anyone my age either. But everyone my age is an idiot, and I am not. Such is the burden of being better than everyone else.

I am part of an organization that uncovers relics and treasures across the Galaxy. We’re called the Star Seeker Scouts. We've been to hundreds of planets. But right now, I am confined to the detention quarters. I took a pod into space alone, which led me to accidentally land on your planet. That was against the rules, but I don’t understand what the big fuss is all about. It really wasn’t that hard. I think I could learn to use the navigational system a little better next time, but other than that, it was so easy… a toddler could do it. 

I don’t like pink. And princesses on my planet wear armor, not gowns. My favorite colors are blue and gold.

Signed,
Vegeta
The Prince of All Saiyans

December 22, 11:17pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 5

Dear Vegeta, the prince of all Saiyans or... whatever it was,

Again, you can call me Bulma. And since when is having blue hair weird? Aren't there people in space with even stranger hair or faces than mine? Besides, I think it's weird you have a tail! Why do you have one? Also, for being an alien, you look pretty... human.

Anyway... Hundreds of planets, you say? Your life sounds like it's full of adventure. I envy that. Nothing ever happens here. I come home from school to finish all my studies and am expected to do it again. It’s boring. I don't feel challenged enough. School is too easy. I want more excitement. I wish I could travel more, but my father works so often that he doesn’t have time to take me on adventures.

I have a cat named Scratch. Cats are a small feline species on Earth. Scratch is really cute, and he's curling up on my lap right now. I think he knows I’m talking to you. He can sense people’s thoughts. He doesn’t like many people, but I have a feeling he’d like you.

Signed,
Bulma

★•☆•★

Over the next year, Vegeta received sporadic messages on his scouter from this so-called Bulma girl. Her messages weren't always as frequent, no thanks to having to tiptoe around her father and wait for her parents to fall asleep before she could sneak into the lab and use the intergalactic communicator.  

Vegeta would never admit it to anyone, but he grew antsy when her messages didn't arrive on time. He noticed days of radio silence before she would respond. He faked relief when he didn't have to write her back, but the truth was, writing her back made him... happy .  

He rationalized it all because this was the only thrill he had left to chase while confined to the boring drawl that was Scout Warden Onyan's detention quarters. 

February 7, 11:52pm | West City Standard Time

Correspondence No. 25

If everything you've told me about you being the smartest pupil in your school is true, why do your teachers penalize you for correcting them? Especially if they are indeed wrong and you're the correct one! You should be the one teaching the class. On Vegetasei, the strong rule over the weak. That's the way it is. Earth sounds pretty backwards to me.

Today, while on patrol, I came across a wretched-looking creature. At first I thought it was an overgrown snake but when I noticed how it oozed slime, it turned out it was a mutated worm. It was so ugly, I killed it. But then I thought, if you were here, you'd probably yell at me to save its pitiful life so you could study it. I would have still killed it either way.

Signed,
Vegeta

February 15, 11:33pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 26

Dear Vegeta, 

You are right. I would have told you to spare that poor creature's life. What if it was the last of its kind? Or had a family? So many reasons...  

I wish I could lead my class but that will never happen. I failed my math class last quarter because I didn't show any of my work. I explained to my teacher and the headmaster that I don't need to show my work, I already know the answer in my head! You and I should switch places. Even though you're confined to the detention quarters, living on a different planet sounds more interesting.  

Yesterday was Valentine's Day. It's a holiday on Earth where we celebrate loved ones by gifting them flowers or chocolates. Unfortunately, no one asked me to be their Valentine. I thought my friend Yamcha would ask me, but instead, he asked another girl to be his Valentine. I know it might not make much sense to you, but it hurt my feelings. I thought I was special to him.

Signed,
Bulma

February 15, 12:02am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 27

Gods, girl! Who cares about Valentine whatever day?! Never ever let someone hold that much power over your self-worth. I still don't understand why Earthlings insist on celebrating so many pointless holidays.  

If I were there, would it have made sense to gift you the body of the dead mutant worm? Father once told me that on Vegetasei, we’re supposed to gift carcasses to our beloveds. They have uses. Meat, fur, hide, bones, serums... I suppose that would have counted as my gift. NOT because I care or consider you a loved one but only because I find it more grating on my nerves when you're in a bad mood.   

Switch places with me? Ha! Good luck! You wouldn't last a day as a Star Seeker Scout. Trust me, it's not as great and adventurous as it seems.

February 16, 1:00am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 28

Dear Vegeta,

I suppose like the saying goes, “it’s the thought that counts.” A dead carcass is not considered a suitable or romantic gift for loved ones by Earth standards. Knowing what I know about you, I understand this would be a grand gesture. So, thank you. I know you always talk about how little you care about things. I know in your own way, you probably do.

February 16, 1:05am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 29

I don’t know what you’re talking about, girl! And I’ve never heard of that stupid saying.

 

March 1, 2:08am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 37

Today, I accidentally set fire to our quarter’s courtyard because I got into a fight with another scout. I shot the most miniature energy blast... though it was somehow too powerful. But it was the other scout's fault. He ridiculed my Saiyan heritage, and he needed to pay!

All the adults here say my energy attacks are too lethal. My stay at the detention quarters has been extended for half a solar cycle. I wish I had brought more books. There isn't a library here. There's also not enough food here. The cafeteria doesn't cater to a growing Saiyan's body. Father told me one time, when I was still a toddler, I bit a guard's finger off. I mistook it for food. 

Signed,
Vegeta

 
May 19, 7:36am West. City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 62

Dear Vegeta,

I am in trouble with my father because he caught me sneaking around in his lab the other night. I was actually trying to respond to your message, but I quickly shut down the console before he entered the room. Luckily, I was able to pretend that I was sleepwalking. I think he believes me. But he’s still cross with me and he changed the access codes to his lab. I had to rewire the panel's circuitry to break inside just so I could write you this message. It took a long time to take it apart, and now I must catch the bus to make it to school in an hour. I’ll have to get the new access code somehow. Maybe I can convince one of his assistants to give it to me. I am really good at getting away with what I want. Mother says it’s because I am so pretty.

Signed,
Bulma

May 20, 12:58am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 63

Yes, being pretty helps. But you’re also a female. Father says all females are witches with powers. So, really, it’s probably just that.  

Did I tell you that I have been banned from all the scout training facilities? I forgot to lock up our quarter’s training building several nights ago, and a flock of nomadic lizards broke in and hatched their eggs. They apparently are claiming squatter’s rights. I don’t understand what it means, but Scout Warden Onyan said we must get lawyers involved. I told them I could easily kill or remove them, but it’s apparently against the rules since they are considered a protected species. Everyone here is dramatic, and I can tell they don’t like me. Not that I care, of course. But life here would be simpler if they did. 

I haven’t met my monthly marshmallow quota, but that’s because Frieza's dumb marshmallows taste disgusting... no one in the cosmos likes them. How has no one told him yet?

- Vegeta

June 8, 11:03pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 74

Dear Vegeta, 

Today is the first day of summer break! I don't have to worry about school or any of the teachers who have it out for me for at least another three months. I used to love school. It was where I thrived. But now it seems I can't stop getting in trouble. I wish my father could home-school me, but he is too busy with the company. He said he's already paid tuition for my school next year. I wish he hadn't done that in advance.

This summer will be perfect. I won't let anything take that away from me. I'll be allowed to shadow my father in his labs. He says I'm a prodigy, and at my rate, I could take over as CEO by the time I've graduated University. Can you imagine that? The heiress turned CEO! 

- Bulma

June 30, 12:47am West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 95

Not sure why I am telling you this... I ran into Zarbon and he made a comment about my height. That's the second time someone has said something about my height this year. I know he was hoping it would cause me to flinch or cower. He kept blabbering on about how no one on Vegetasei would follow me as their king once I take over my father's position. He also said I would remain alone forever. I don't understand where that part came from. I was so angry, I beat him until his legs could barely stand. Then I thought about how you'd probably whine about showing him some mercy, so I spared him his life. Beating him to a pulp didn't make the comment sting less.

I don’t want to be alone forever. There, I said it! And if you tell anyone else I said this, I'll beat you to a pulp too. 

- Vegeta

July 1, 12:12 AM | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 96

Vegeta,

Don't concern yourself with that idiot. He doesn't know anything. You're royalty, remember? And, of course, you’re not going to be alone forever! Besides, if all else fails, you have me, apparently. It's okay to feel this way. I read a book once that taught me how most sentient creatures are social and we are supposed to need each other for survival, growth and general mental well-being. Also I'm going to pretend I didn't read that you'd beat me to a pulp. Because I know you didn't mean that, tough guy.

- Bulma

 

July 1, 12:18 AM | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 97

Gods Bulma... You’re infuriating. You always think you know everything, but I guess maybe... just this once... you're not wrong here. But don't think this is me going all soft on you! I'd rather die than let that happen.  

And fine! I didn't mean what I said. But, still… don’t test me, girl.

- Vegeta

July 29 12:01am | West. City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 115

Vegeta, I’ve always wondered… does your tail wag when you’re happy? If it does, that would be so adorable.

July 29 12:04am West. City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 116

You are utterly vulgar and I won’t even entertain your curiosity on this one. And never use the word adorable to describe me again. Next question.

July 29 12:06am West. City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 117

So that’s a yes? I knew it wagged! How cute! I think I like you so much more now.

July 29 12:08am West. City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 118

You’re infuriating… If you’re not going be serious, then I’m silencing my scouter and going to bed.

September 25, 12:47am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 152

Dear Vegeta,

The sheriff caught me driving my father’s car again. They said driving at my age is illegal, but I drive better than most adults. My short height is a concern, but I told them I sit on top of a pile of textbooks and can see just fine!

Now I have to write an apology letter to the sheriff because I accidentally lost my temper and called him an assbutt. My parents are not happy with me. 

Do you have a best friend? It feels like we’ve been talking to each other for almost a year. Does that count as a best friend?

- Bulma

September 25, 1:06am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 153

Your parents don’t sound too bad. Their disciplinary measures sound soft in comparison to how Saiyans handle their children.

I never grew up with a mother, but I don’t think I care. I can’t miss something I never had. I only wish my father left behind a photo of my mother. I don’t even know whether she was weak or strong, short or tall, menacing-looking or meek. I’ll have to use my imagination.

  I haven’t had a best friend before. I would deem that this meets best friend requirements. 

  Also, what is an assbutt??

- Vegeta

October 1, 12:16am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 154

Dear Vegeta,

I am so sorry you didn’t grow up with a mother. I’m sure she was a great person. 

Do you remember when I told you about my friend Yamcha? The one I used to be best friends with? Well, he is not my best friend anymore! He lied and told everyone at school that I was his first kiss. How could he betray me like that? He knows I have never kissed anyone before, and I don’t think I’d want to anytime soon. It’s gross.

- Bulma

October 1, 12:23am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 155

He sounds like an imbecile. If I were there, I would have killed him for you, but only if you asked. I agree. I don’t think I’d ever want to kiss anyone. From what I know about how poor the average person’s grooming regimen is, kissing sounds extremely unsanitary, and it would be an inefficient way to spend time.  

Also, you might not believe me, but I discovered something I don’t think I was supposed to learn about while on research duty today. There is a planet with these hideous green creatures with pointed ears that can grant you three wishes if you present them with amber wishing orbs. I only got the chance to read about this because Scout Warden Onyan left his login credentials on a computer in the scouting research center. Naturally, I was curious. I didn’t sign out of his account when I saw his clearance level.

- Vegeta  

October 11, 11:25pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 156

Vegeta,

Please don't kill anyone over me. Besides, Yamcha already apologized. I forced him to! But I told him we couldn't be friends any longer. I won't let myself get fooled again. That ALSO includes you! Don't betray me and make me regret calling you my NEW best friend.  

Hmmm, wishing orbs? I think you are referring to dragon balls. I heard about a legend that Kami, the guardian of Earth, can grant one wish if someone can gather all seven of the dragon balls. But like I said, it’s only one wish. Three wishes sound way better than getting only one lousy wish. 

October 11, 11:58pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 157

Bulma,

If there is anything one should know about me, it's that I would never lie or betray anyone. Why would I? I'm one of the most powerful beings in the universe. My ancestors were the ascended Super Saiyans! I have no reason to lower myself to petty lies! I always keep my word. You can count on that. So no, you won't regret making me your new best friend... however, on Vegetasei, there's another word for this. It's something more powerful than a best friend... Would you... want that instead?

October 12, 12:04am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence 158

Vegeta,

Thanks for reassuring me. I trust your words are true. What exactly do you mean by something more powerful than a best friend? 

October 12, 12:31am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence 159

  I may be saying it wrong. Let me try that again.  

I have been thinking about this for a while now. I will never be free if I stay here as a Star Seeker Scout. Especially with my extended detention sentence. Here, I will never have anything that is truly mine. Frieza sucks all the fun and joy out of everything. I'm a glorified Scout, but I can't shake this awful feeling that I'm really just a slave doing his bidding. Whatever that bidding may happen to be... I still haven’t figured out why he’s so obsessed with working children to the bone and sending them on perilous missions… and for what? Some ridiculous treasure? More relics to add to his absurd museum that no one visits? It’s so meaningless.  

You are the only person I have ever found that I don't hate.

So I’ve decided. I will take a pod, navigate to Earth, and take you as my mate, which is more powerful than a best friend. It could benefit us both. I hate it here, and you also seem unhappy where you are.

Obviously I’m not doing this because I like you in that sort of way... I just need a strong-willed and intelligent companion! While you might be weak, you certainly aren't useless. You can build and repair things. And you're not afraid of me. You’re the only person I know who I can tolerate. I am also growing impatient waiting for your replies, so I would like to speak to you directly from now on. No more waiting. You'll be mine.

My father says mates are like best friends, but it's forever. You said people need people. And if I'm going to ever need someone, I can't imagine myself wanting to need anyone else besides you.  

Just to be super clear, I won't actually need you. But if I'm going to have to need someone... I'm just saying, I suppose I'll choose to need you.  

But first, together, we should seek these dragon balls on this mysterious planet I just discovered. I’ll need to wish to become a Super Saiyan for any chance at successfully convincing Frieza to permanently release me from my obligations toward the Star Seeker Scouts. He’s definitely up to something as well… Just haven’t figured it out yet. But this whole scouting operation is beneath my station as a Prince. I don’t know what my father was thinking, subjecting me to such a useless fate.  

Two of the wishes will be mine since I will be doing most of the planning. I will also probably have to protect you because your power level is so damn weak. Honestly, why is your race is so weak? We will have to change that. Father says I am not allowed a weak mate.  

October 13, 11:11pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 160

Vegeta, 

I’m not as weak as I seem! The other day, I learned how to shoot a bow and arrow. My aim was perfect. But if you think you should get two of the three wishes, then I suppose that is fair. Luckily for me, one of my wishes has already come true. When can I expect you to arrive?

And also... What is a mate? Is that like a bride? We don’t have mates on Earth. We marry instead. Are you asking me to marry you? If so, my answer is yes.

October 15, 10:57pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 161

Bulma,

It took me a while to make my calculations. I had to bribe a scout a few years my senior to double-check that my numbers were correct because I couldn't believe what I saw... Why does your backwater planet have to be on the outermost ring of the Galaxy?!? Good thing I'm saving you. Your planet's location is miserably far from the asteroid outposts and planets with advanced civilizations. It makes sense why our databases have so little research on Earth.  

Based on Earth’s time-keeping standards, the latitude and longitude points you sent me a month ago, and my calculations, I can arrive in three weeks at precisely 01:00 Earth hours after you confirm you've received my correspondence. Walk 720 steps north starting from your bedroom window, I'll be waiting there for you. Don't bring too many things. The pods are designed to fit one person at a time. But since we're not fully grown adults, we could share the seat and make it work.

And that is correct. You’ll be my mate. Or married in your customs. I don’t know what else is required of me. My father once said mates are made with a special handshake. But I don’t think it matters. As long as we say we are mates, then that’s enough for me.

- Vegeta

PS. And DON'T forget to confirm. Or else I won't bother to come.

October 15, 11:10pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 162

Girl... are you confirming or not?! For this to work, I will need to know now.

October 15, 11:12pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 163

Yes, yes calm down. Confirming. And by Earth's custom's, I will require a ring if we are to marry. -B

October 15, 11:14am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 164

Confirming that I've confirmed your message. I can make you a ring fit for a princess since that is what you will become. 

I hacked into our pod database and reserved a pod using another Scout's ID. No one will realize I am gone before it's too late. All is set for travel. -V

October 18, 2:17am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 165

I can’t believe this is happening! I have nothing else to say other than I am too excited to sleep tonight. -B

October 18, 2:20am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 166

Believe it. Sleep, princess. Or else I'll start calling you weird blue-haired Earthling again. -V

October 18, 2:22am | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 167

You wouldn't dare! -B

October 18, 2:24pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 168

I would. Now go to sleep!

October 18, 2:29pm | West City Standard Time
Correspondence No. 169

Fine :)

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Rule #91: Scouts must never abandon their posts without written or expressed permission.



Colorful leaves crunched beneath Vegeta’s boots. He was hiking through a forest right outside the Capsule Corporation compound, making his journey toward the precise meeting point where he knew he’d find Bulma. The directions he gave her were simple enough.

Walk 720 steps starting from your bedroom window.

His pod landed several hundred meters from the meeting point, intentionally giving him a wide berth should he decide to abort the mission and turn around. But it was too late, as something faintly fruity and sweet permeated the air.

His insides churned, and his breath caught in his throat. What was this odd sensation? Fear!? What a horrible idea this was. He should have turned around sooner!

Pull yourself together , he told himself. He had faced far more perilous trials than this!

The dizzying sensation rising in his belly couldn’t have possibly been fear or nervousness. 

No, absolutely not.

It was just his body’s completely normal reaction to being stuck in stasis for too long.

Yes, that had to be it!

And it had nothing to do with the fact that he would have to use actual words with his actual mouth instead of his scouter to talk to a girl he had hardly known.

Yes, that was it. A perfectly logical explanation and— Oh gods.

Vegeta froze. Bulma emerged from a thicket of trees like an apparition.

She paused when she spotted him. Light blue eyes studying him intently, lips turning upward into a smile.

She was terrifying in a way Vegeta didn’t understand and he considered fleeing the first time in his life.

What was he supposed to do now?

Should he approach first?

Offer to take her bag? 

Vegeta never learned how to conduct himself around a girl! Sure, he said they were mates, but now it was clear to him that his proclamation was a terrible mistake! All he knew was how to train, spar, and go on missions with his scouts. But this? Talking to a girl? Running away together? Alone?

He thanked his lucky stars when Bulma made the first move. Her face lit up, an easy grin rested on her face and she pranced over to him. Her movements were light and natural, as if she had rehearsed all this before.

“Vegeta,” she said, dropping all propriety, forsaking his princely title as though she had known him her whole life. Her gaze pierced him in a way that made him want to shudder, rage, and laugh in relief all at once.

“It’s really you.”

“C-course it’s me.” He stuttered as she closed the distance between them. She arched her brows.

He inhaled sharply as she drew closer.

Vegeta made a nervous clearing of his throat and gestured toward the wicker bag. ‘ Ahem. Um… What is that?”

“Oh, this?” She held up the bag to reveal that it was a carrier for a small animal. “I brought Scratch.” Bulma lifted the top and tilted it toward Vegeta. Scratch was curled into a ball and purring in satisfaction. “I told you he’d like you. And oh! I almost forgot. I got you something. A present.”

Bulma untied a small pouch looped around the carrier's strap and held it out for him to grab.

“What is it?” He asked, guarded, while making no move to accept her offering.

“You’ll see! Just take it.” She grinned.

He swiped the plush material out of Bulma’s hands, shivering as his fingers grazed hers. He loosened the drawstrings and then blinked.

“Uh, and this is..?” He asked, begrudgingly dangling the tool between his two fingers as if it was a filthy rag.

“It’s a Swiss Army knife. I had it made. Your name is engraved, look…” Their fingers brushed again, this time, making them both blush. She flipped the tool over in his palms, revealing the fine script.

“Oh,” he frowned. “Thanks.”

He felt more heat rise to his cheeks. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact name for the emotions he felt.

Frowning when he realized how stupid his face must have looked, he shook his head, dismissed  all the sentimental thoughts that simmered inside of him, and shoved the tool into his pocket.

What use would he have for a minuscule knife anyway? It would hardly hold up in a fight. But with the way she had his name engraved, it felt wrong to complain about it.

“Do you know how to use it?” She tilted her head with a smirk.

“Tch! Of course, I know how to use a knife!”

“Right. Just checking! It’s more than a knife. It’s a corkscrew, bottle opener, screwdriver, and even a nail file. Here, let me show you.” She reached out, but he nearly swatted her away.

“I said I know how to use it!” He barked, backing away from her. He cringed when he watched her recoil. His tone came out rougher than intended.

Bulma threw her hands in surrender. “Okay, jeez, I was just making sure.” 

"I just meant… Never mind.” Vegeta muttered and looked down at his boots. “I have something too.”

He unceremoniously presented her with a silver ring, avoiding her eyes at all costs.

“I used scrap metal from cutlery.” He shrugged. “Snuck it out of the mess hall. Not many choices in the commissary. Hmph.”

“Oh, Vegeta! I love it! I will cherish this forever.” She giggled as she slid it over her ring finger, but it was too large.

“Yeah. It’s just a stupid ring, but sure.” He crossed his arms, still avoiding eye contact, but snuck a glance at the ring on her finger, gleaming under the half moonlight. “Damn it, your hand is so puny… Give it to me! I’ll make it smaller.”

“Huh?”

Vegeta snatched the ring off Bulma’s finger, ignoring her protests as he turned it up. 

He melted the ore down, the alloying turning bright orange as he concentrated his ki on all sides of the ring, turning it in circles, shaping it between his gloved fingertips before blowing a forceful gust of air from his lungs. 

“There.” He whispered with a smirk, pleased with his handiwork.

The ring solidified into its newly cooled form. 

He slid the ring back on Bulma’s finger, then paused, his back stiffening when he noticed how close she was and how firmly he was grasping her by the palm of her hand. He swore he could feel her eyes light up .

Vegeta swiftly released her hand as if it had burned him, which was ironic considering he had easily handled burning ore in his gloved hands without flinching. He clenched his jaw and tugged at his collar, which felt too tight.

“It’s perfect.” She beamed. “Thank you.”

“Tch. I don't see what the big deal is.” Vegeta kicked at an imaginary pebble. “Is that all you're bringing?” He asked, his eyes darting around her as if another bag was hidden nearby. Not that he was complaining, since the pod was a tight space.

“I brought an entire home’s worth of stuff with me!” Bulma proudly patted her pocket. “In my capsules.”

Capsules? Vegeta’s brows knit together. “Uh… sure, suit yourself.” He shook his head and cleared his throat again, frustrated at his loss for words. “Can you walk in those?” He pointed to her laced-up tennis shoes, which were, by Earth standards, considered athletic. But to him, they were the flimsiest things he’d ever seen in the galaxy.

“Yes.”

“Fine. Follow me.” Vegeta turned on his heel and began hiking a few paces too fast for Bulma to keep up. He smirked as he heard her huff and puff behind him. He slowed, remembering how weak her power level was again.

Gods, we’re going to have to do something about that, he mused as they traversed the ground and headed toward the pod.

“Stay close if you can,” Vegeta grunted. 

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say anything else, so he kept quiet. He was good at that. Still, every so often, he stole a glance.

A quick look here, studying the soft angles of her face. The impossible shade of her hair. A sidelong glance there, watching the way she moved, somehow making the rough terrain look delicate under her steps.

Each time he turned, he checked to ensure she was still keeping up, that this was still real, that she was really here .

Occasionally, she’d hum to herself, softly, like it was a reflex. He tried to tune it out. But he listened anyway.

As they approached a small crater in the earth where his pod had made impact, he realized that he would have to share his space for the first time in his life. The worst part was realizing that his first lesson in sharing was going to be inside the smallest possible space the cosmos had invented.

“We’re uh… here.” Vegeta stood with his arms crossed, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for Bulma to catch up. “It’s a bit of a jump but—”

“Wow!” Bulma had dismissed him mid-sentence and helped herself down into the crater with an enthusiastic hop. Scratch meowed in protest as he jostled around in his carrier.

Bulma stopped short of the hatch and tilted her head to the side, admiring the pod as if it were a horse-drawn carriage instead of a stolen military-grade spacecraft.

“Is this your ship?”

Vegeta scoffed at her ignorance. “It’s not a ship. Don’t tell me you Earthlings don’t even have pods?!”

“It’s so cute! I love it, Vegeta!”

Is she blind? Cute?!

It was anything but cute. Vegeta rolled his eyes and pressed down on his scouter. The hatch opened with a slow hiss.

 “One seat. But we’ll manage.” He sniffed, feigning indifference despite his ever-looming bout of anxiety. What in the holy comet’s name was he doing? 

She smiled sweetly at him. It wasn’t to tease or mock him. She just… smiled. As if he was the cause of her sudden elation.

Vegeta frowned. How could this be the same girl he had been corresponding with for nearly a whole solar cycle?

She was more logical and composed in her messages, although emotional at times and sometimes even vulgar. But this … this uncapped enthusiasm seemed new. Gods… Earthlings really were primitive creatures.

Bulma and Vegeta held each other’s gazes, their brows arched in question, as if debating who would sit down first. Neither of them moved. Just two underprepared and unaccompanied minors on the edge of something ground-breaking or incredibly reckless. Maybe both.

Vegeta looked away, cheeks reddening when he realized he had been staring at her for a beat too long.

“You go first.” Vegeta gestured toward the pod’s only seat. “Here, I’ll take your beast so you can climb in.”

“ Scratch. His name is Scratch.”

“Right. That’s what I meant.” 

Bulma sat on the leather seat with a light thud and scooted over to make room for Vegeta. He filed in behind her, setting Scratch between his boots as the pod’s hatch hissed shut.

He began the pod’s launch sequence and quadruple- checked the coordinates.

Bulma reached out to pet the plush, velvet-like material that lined the pod’s walls. “It’s so soft,” She hummed. “Ooh... What does this button do?”

“Don’t touch anything!” Vegeta caught Bulma’s hand before she could press the button that would eject them and the entire seat from the pod. “That would have been a disaster.” He huffed. 

He swore under his breath as he caught himself tightly grasping her hand, again .

It was as if his body liked to betray his mind and find any excuse to touch her. And to make matters worse, her thigh was already pressed quite snug beside his.

Vegeta let go of her hand and exhaled . For this plan to succeed, he would have to learn to be less nervous around her.

“Don't touch any of these controls unless you want to end up stranded in space.” Vegeta gritted his teeth.

Bulma didn’t seem affected by his brash outburst. Her attention had already drifted to examining the seat’s extendable tray, which she fiddled with absentmindedly.

He diverted his focus back to the console, entering the final string of commands to calculate their route to Planet Namek.

“Let’s… rehearse the plan. I can’t have you following me around hopelessly. I’m going to need you to play an equal part in this. It’ll be the only way we’ll survive.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know… First, we set up camp, scope the land, search for the dragon balls, and then live happily ever after!”

Vegeta snorted. “Happily ever after? Never heard of such a ridiculous saying before.”

“Happily ever after! Like a fairytale.”

“Girl, this is no fairytale! We’re about to land on a planet that hosts lifeforms with power levels that could surpass even my own. This is a serious mission! We are talking in terms of life or death! What part of this is a fairytale!?”

“All of it.” Bulma winked, eliciting a low growl from Vegeta. “Oh, come on! Quit being a drag, my prince .”

Vegeta rolled his eyes. No doubt she used his title sarcastically, yet he enjoyed hearing those words come out of her mouth. Gods, she was insufferable! Insufferable, wretched, vulgar, and pretty… Oh so pretty…

AGH! No, focus! Vegeta sharply exhaled and ran his fingers. 

“When was the last time you’ve eaten?” 

“Around dinner time. So five hours ago… why?” She asked. 

“No reason.” He said while securing the buckle across their bodies before looking down at Scratch with a deep frown. The next twenty seconds were going to be rough on the little guy.

“Hold him tight,” he muttered. “Unless you want to see his guts on the dash.”

Bulma’s eyes widened, horrified. He smirked.

Good, he thought. That should get her to quit clowning around.

Vegeta’s hand hovered over a joystick that would propel them out of the atmosphere—“Wait!”

“What, girl?!” Vegeta growled.

“Is it going to hurt?” Bulma asked, glancing between him and the viewport like she was considering running out.

“Maybe,” Vegeta muttered. “Just sit back. Don’t fight it.”

The pod rocketed upward. Bulma screamed and Scratch yowled.

She squeezed her eyes shut until the rattling stopped, then cracked one eye open to catch Vegeta smirking.

“I take it back. I don’t want to be an astronaut.”

Vegeta snorted. “If you think that was harsh, wait until you ride in the vintage models. Triple the throttle.”

“Is it smoother on a larger spacecraft?”

Vegeta blinked, “It’s actually worse. There’s always someone who forgets to stow away their things and then, BAM! Something can hit you right in the face.”

“You’re not helping,” she groaned, leaning forward, and promptly dry heaved.

Vegeta jerked away. “No. Absolutely not. Do not throw up in here.”

“I won’t!” She barked out, still clutching at her stomach. “I’m fine... So sweet of you to ask.” Bulma huffed, eyes shooting daggers at Vegeta.

“I’m saying… we are stuck here in case you haven’t noticed. For a while.”

“Yeah, I get it, Captain Obvious ,” Bulma grumbled. 

She steadied her breathing, glaring at the floor. Vegeta side-eyed her, praying stasis would kick in before she lost it.

Vegeta’s tone softened around the edges. “It'll be fine. Stasis should start any second now.”

“Stasis!? But if I miss out on something amazing?” She whined. 

Vegeta growled. “We’d run out of water by tomorrow if we stay awake the whole journey to Namek. There’s nothing even exciting out there!”

Not true. There were some exciting things out there. But this was not the spacecraft to view them from.

“Do you promise?” she asked, giving him those eyes.

“Sort of... Don't worry about it.”

What was he supposed to say? That the galaxy was full of the occasional pretty sight?

He allowed the half-truth to remain unspoken for.

To be fair, he had every intention of taking her on a proper ship one day once he was finally king and could do whatever he wanted.

King… but that would make her Queen?

A Queen who’s not Saiyan by birth… Yeah, right! As if his kingdom would ever let that happen. 

But if he was king, then who were they to control what he could and couldn’t do?

Vegeta lamented at how confusing Saiyan politics could be and brushed the thought away.

Vegeta craned his neck, stealing a glance to ensure she was still alright and then wondered if she noticed how often he was stealing glances toward her. 

On Vegetasei, staring at someone for a beat too long meant you wanted to fight.

And it was not the good kind of fight.

It was the, I-have-something-personally-against-you fight.

If her glances did bother her, she made no mention of it.

Earthlings were the strangest. Were it not for their uncanny resemblance to Saiyans, he would have high-tailed it out of Earth immediately the day he crash-landed.

Thankfully, her attention had already shifted to comforting her cat who was still alive. These miniature Earth felines were quite resilient, and he decided that Scratch had earned his stripes. Perhaps, one day, Vegeta would find a feline beast of his own to keep as a pet. Scratch yawned in Bulma’s lap before curling into a tight ball.

As the pod coasted in space, Bulma hummed an occasional melody that was unnervingly soothing and annoying to Vegeta all at once.

He watched as Bulma shifted forward. She was trying to peer out of the viewport, no doubt to view the scenery. “I wish the window wasn’t red. I can’t see anything good.” Bulma sighed, falling back on her seat with an annoyed huff.

The stasis countdown commenced, and Bulma shot Vegeta a questioning look, to which he felt oddly obligated to answer.

“Relax.” He said. His voice softened. “It’s just going to put us to sleep. It will feel like waking up from a long nap.”

“And Scratch?”

Vegeta looked at the kitten, whose eyes were now closed, and curtly nodded. “Will be fine.”

Bulma resigned herself to nod as the vents hissed, releasing an odorless cloud that filled the cabin.

Unlike Bulma, who seemed wary toward the concept of stasis, Vegeta actually welcomed it. It was an excuse to rest.

He felt the uncanny heaviness settle in his bones, followed by the quieting of his ever-racing mind anchoring down on his mental shores.

Final thoughts slipped through the cracks... Stealing a pod. Eloping with an alien? This was definitely his stupidest decision to date. But he finally made his peace before drifting off. He decided he could live with that. 

Through the haze, Vegeta could swear he felt Bulma's hand find his, fingers gently threading with his own. Too far gone to pull away, he let it happen. And perhaps, in some quiet, unguarded part of him, he squeezed her hand back.