Disclaimer: Toriyama-sama belongs to DB, nothing to me!

Greetings to: Miko_SSJ and Sasi

E-mail: MajinSakuko @ sms. at

A / N: Ah! Is that all complicated now! But finally there is only one version left. Short split fic, but never mind. Get ready emotionally for action, heartbreak and lemon! Most of it only from the next chapter * hehe *

Takusan no Share! (-> Should mean "Have fun!")

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15th part

Bulma shuffled wearily down the corridors of the C.C. complex in the direction of the kitchen, her bare feet making no sound on the pleasantly cool linoleum. She sluggishly pushed open the door and strolled to the table, where she sat down in her chair. Breakfast was already prepared, all she had to do was help herself.

Luckily she was alone in the kitchen, but she wasn't really surprised, after all, she had SEARCHED HER MOM an hour ago. Mrs. Briefs could be really persistent, Bulma had to admit.Bunny had wondered why Yamcha hadn't come for breakfast and so Bulma had again been forced to inform her mother that he and she were no longer a couple. The odd thing was that Mrs. Briefs didn't bombard her with hundreds of questions as expected. Rather, it seemed as if she had already seen it come around a few corners.

Despite her hunger, Bulma put the spoon of cornflakes to her mouth a few times and forced herself to eat the cereal. Time flew by when you didn't know what to do with yourself.

So Yamcha was free now. Free like her. Basically, Bulma couldn't remember what it was like before, pre-Yamcha, so to speak. He had always been with her, helping her as best he could. And now? Now she was on her own. This whole situation scared her in a way. What if she wasn't made to be alone?[BI: Not really, not really. Sure you're not made for it, but that's what Vegeta is for !! ]Or even to stay alone? Or maybe she was exaggerating a little. Sometimes happiness was closer than you might think.[BI: Exactly one stick below you! Ah, wouldn't it be cool if she fell through the ceiling right on Vegeta? What would happen then? ... you can picture yourself! * grin *]-[MS: à la "Misunderstood" by Bon Jovi]

Bulma's head jerked around searching when the kitchen door swung open and Vegeta came in, obviously just from training. The Saiyan stopped halfway to the refrigerator, from which he only wanted to get something to drink.

"Hello", Bulma finally greeted when the person opposite made no move to open her mouth on his own.

"Hi." So Vegeta seemed to have found his language again. Exaggeratedly fast he headed for the drinks, grabbed a mineral, turned around and tried to escape when Bulma stopped him.

"Oh yes ... I wanted to say thank you." Vegeta turned and looked at the scientist. Since when was she grateful to him? "About Shenlong, you know."

Vegeta just panted and turned back to the door.

*What does he have? * Bulma thought confused. * He has not behaved like that for the last few days ... * Completely forgetting her tiredness, she jumped up from the chair and grabbed the Saiyajin's arm before he could leave the kitchen. “What is it?”

Vegeta tilted his head to one side, his gaze slid down her face, down the nape of the neck, lingering on the scar a moment too long.

Bulma felt herself slowly blush under the pattern, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"What about Yamcha?", Vegeta wanted to know quietly and he looked Bulma straight in the eyes again.

She could hear that the Saiyajin had to bring himself to these words. "Forget about Yamcha."[BI: Yes! The most beautiful words in the world!]

* _ + _ * _ + _ * _ + _ *

"I'm bored."

"Me too," the white-haired beauty held up the poison arrow with two fingers, "brother heart." She fired the bullet back and knitted her eyebrows when the young man with the black hair brought the arrow down with his willpower alone. "You're a miserable show-off."

“After all, you have to pass the time with something, you agree with me, don't you, little sister?” His smile bared a row of shiny, sharp-edged teeth.

"Sure," she muttered, turning to her fingernails. One look out of her ice-gray eyes let the knife, which was only ten centimeters from her forehead, fall to the ground.

The black-haired man clicked his tongue audibly. Over time it got more and more difficult. Nevertheless, this little game was and remained an amusing entertainment. "Have you heard anything new?"

"Yes, Dorei mentioned something ... It's a waste of time," she hissed at her brother when he was about to fire a kiball at her."You have them all. Except for the little one. But she can still wait." Her lips twisted into a small grin that would have demanded a huge amount of respect from anyone with even a bit of brains, but her brother could only counter with a weak smile.

"For once, you're right, sister."

* _ + _ * _ + _ * _ + _ *

Bulma felt trapped, although at the same time she was never as free as she was at the moment when she was threatened with drowning. But salvation was in sight. Involuntarily her gaze slid to Vegeta's lips, which had never been so close to hers, within reach. CLOSE TO KISSING.

Time enveloped them in a bubble that shielded them from the outside world, allowing them all the freedom they needed. Vegeta swallowed dryly.

After endless seconds that had raised her heartbeat to double the frequency, Bulma simply gathered up her courage, let herself fall, and touched Vegeta's lips with her lips.

It was like a bolt of lightning when their breath mingled. Vegeta savored the sweetness of her mouth while his tongue introduced itself to hers. Bulma explored the Saiyan's warm cave, noticing how her pulse quickened again. Just to gasp for air, they broke apart briefly, immediately reunited. Bulma wrapped her arms around Vegeta's shoulders, pressing him closer, and his hands found their way to her waist, caressing the warm skin that was only covered by her satin pajamas.

"We're all hungry. No reason to eat each other! (=> THE WATCHER)", Bunny smiled in her blunt manner and padded past the two who were just kissing to start preparing for lunch.

Bulma and Vegeta drove apart as if stung by a tarantula, both blood rushed to their heads.

* _ + _ * _ + _ * _ + _ *

"Are you sad, Yamcha?"

"Just a little ...", the Z-Senshi confessed to his faithful companion.

Pool cuddled him briefly and then whizzed into the kitchen to prepare a little cheering drink.

In the living room, Yamcha decided to send Nakayoshi a radio message, after all, he had promised that. He knew the number by heart and after a short time a connection was established.

"Hi, Yoshi-kun," Yamcha started. "It's me. If you intercept the message, please answer." After further attempts, he gave up for the time being, as his friend did not answer. He was probably still working. Oh, he hadn't thought of the time difference either, so that it was there ... half past one in the morning. Then he would try again later.

"Here, Yamcha," Pool chirped happily. "Freshly squeezed orange juice. It will make you think differently."

The addressee looked up with a smile and took the glass. "Thanks, P-chan."

* _ + _ * _ + _ * _ + _ *
“Oh my God!” The small, slender figure pressed both hands over her mouth when she felt a nausea, triggered by what she had seen.

"What ...?" The company was confused and came around the corner. "That's ... horrible!"

“What just happened here?” He pulled his jacket over his nose and mouth, and looked around a little more closely. The room was a battlefield, soaked in blood over and over. Here and there were parts of innards, the heat was stifling and hundreds of flies were buzzing around looking for a few delicacies.

It suppressed the impulse to just turn away. She had seen a lot in all her years as a space cop, but a massacre like the one that must have taken place here was just ... indescribable. “What do you think happened to the corpses?”

"There are grinding marks here ..."

“That's strange, look.” She pointed to a larger pool of blood that was half-dried and had captured an imprint."Pay attention to the shape."

"That ... is absolutely impossible." He was as experienced as she. "That can't be impossible."

“That's what I thought too.” She took another closer look at the easily recognizable prints. “But it's clear, isn't it?”

"Yes."

* _ + _ * _ + _ * _ + _ *

The stormy evening wind was the only movement on the entire planet, far outside the northern Milky Way. No bird twittered, no frog indicated its presence with its croaking, not even the otherwise busy bees dared to produce their honey.

An oppressive dead silence lay like a carpet over the city, the screams have long since faded away. Empty streets led to nowhere, the wind blew through the equally empty houses, but nowhere was visitors welcome. The market place was deserted, no insect had the audacity to attack the fruit stocks, which were still shining fresh and juicy.

Reluctantly, a strange bird began to whistle its song, and it sounded like a desperate cry for help which, as he seemed to know himself, he would never receive.

Dusk slowly turned into night, the moon shone silver in a full circle from the sky, the reddish color of the earth had not been lost.

* _ + _ * _ + _ * _ + _ *

“She will do it.”

"I know, but nobody could have expected that, brother." The young woman played with her white strands.

"That throws all our plans upside down, are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, yes. Relax again and put the bow aside. It was expensive." She