Masquerade
by Pan no Ojousan

Part Two - Good Morning, Pancake

“Can you pass me the rice please?” Silently, the bowl lifted from the table, gently gliding through the air before taking its new place beside Videl's own bowl, accompanied only by a soft smile from her daughter. The girl whom she thought was her daughter. Once again, the trio was covered by a quiet silence, its tension building to its peak. There was something not quite right in the Son home this evening. What made it even worse was that Gohan wouldn't let up on it. He could just “tell” that something was wrong with his little Panny. In reality, there was something wrong with his Panny, but she wasn't there for him to figure it out. Pan was at Bra's house, in Bra's body, her ki spiking wildly, scaring the life out of the real Bra. Unfortunately, she had no way of finding out what was wrong. Her problem was here, trying to avert Gohan's suspicions. After all, she was Pan now. This was hers to deal with. For the most part, though, she kept her midnight blue eyes focused on the dish before her, afraid she would slip up and reveal something. But would they suspect anything? Probably not. Acting on impulse as she usually did, she lifted her gaze and met her “father's” worried stare. “Daddy?” she ventured, looking genuinely concerned for him—another blessed way her Briefs family heritage helped her out. “Are you okay?” Gohan didn't reply right away; he instead dropped his eyes and realigned them onto the table, a light blush appearing on the bridge of his nose. “I'm fine, Panny,” he excused. “I was just worried about you. You're acting really distant today. Are you all right?” “Of course I am,” she said, her tone that of concern. “I just had a kind of long day. That's okay, isn't it?” “Well, yeah…” her “father” trailed off, looking to his wife for support, but disappointed to receive only a shrug from Videl. Sighing, he looked back at his “daughter,” his face appearing distraught and anxious. “Usually, though, you like to talk about it. I'm so used to hearing all about your day during dinner. It's a little strange when you don't talk to us.” Bra laughed, earning a small smile from Gohan, letting him think for a moment that none was lost between him and his daughter. “I'm sorry, Daddy. It's kind of a friend's problem…a big, complex emotional bit, complete with cheating ex-boyfriends and jealous women galore. I thought you might not appreciate hearing the details of the story—at least, not while we were eating.” Videl chuckled while Gohan paled, and she decided that her fable had done the trick. “It's okay, honey,” her “mother” commented, smiling back at memories long past with her own teenage friends. “Your father and I greatly appreciate and respect your decision on that one. Good thinking.” Bra grinned. “Yeah, I thought you'd feel that way,” she replied, congratulating herself on her negotiation techniques. It was a much respected thing when you pulled something over on Gohan. Granted, if he'd known about the machine, he probably would have her figured out faster than she could come up with a story to tell him. And with Bra, that interval was extremely short. Now finished with her dinner, she dropped her chopsticks onto the dish, just as she knew Pan to do—carelessly and sloppily. “May I be excused?” she practically shouted, eager to make her way to the phone. The flickering ki she sensed from her old body still wasn't fading, and she'd just noticed that Trunks' was acting in the same manner. The only thing she could think was something that she really hoped wasn't true, something that she didn't much want to elaborate on. She needed to get to a phone, fast, to see what was up over there. “Sure,” Gohan mumbled, staring down at his food. “How old are you? Nineteen? And your friends are already talking about—” “Gohan!“ Videl scolded, thwacking him with a chopstick set. He cried out, though it definitely hadn't hurt, and cowered in fear as she ranted on him how it was inappropriate to discuss such matters with a girl that age. Bra only laughed and left the room, running to Pan's—hers, to use the phone that she desperately needed to. After practically leaping up the stairs and knocking the door off of the hinges, she finally managed to snatch up the phone in Pan's—hers, she had to quit thinking of all of Pan's belongings as Pan's. They were hers now, and she should get used to that if she wanted to keep this thing a secret. But she grabbed the phone and dialed her own number as quickly as she could manage (which unfortunately wasn't too quick because she wasn't used to calling herself). After a few failed attempts at dialing the right number, she finally was greeted with her mothers—Bulma's—voice. “Hello?” she chirped, sounding far too cheerful to actually be in a good mood. “Ms. Bulma?” Bra asked nervously. “Um, this is Pan. Is Bra around, by any chance?” “Yes, she most definitely is,” Bulma replied happily. “I'll get her, she's in the other room doing homework.” 'That's highly unlikely,' Bra commented to herself as she heard the phone being set down. Noise in the background ceased to sound—it was her best guess that she was placed on hold. Certain that Bulma had been in her lab and would take minutes to get to the house alone, she let her mind wander, focusing again on the dancing ki readings she was still picking up. Bra seemed to be struggling, being easily overpowered by Trunks, who didn't even seem to be trying anymore. From the feel of her ki, Bra—no, Pan, that was really Pan—was engaged in a spar or something of the like. She kept trying to power up, but was easily and quickly squashed again. Dread formed in Bra's heart. Pan was fighting—in her body. Nobody fought while in Bra Briefs' body, not even Bra herself. What if she broke a bone or something? And furthermore, how was she going to explain this to her parents? A sudden blast of ki drew Bra out of her contemplation, starting in shock at the power thrown in to the burst. That was Pan who had just flared immensely—almost enough to reach the point of Super Saiyan, or so it felt. Her father's ki wasn't much different when he trained himself in the Gravity Room. Trunks' ki momentarily dropped, followed sharply by Pan's. Those two were closely followed by a dramatic rise in Bulma's ki, although she couldn't tell whether it was in anger or happiness. So far, all signs pointed to anger. Bra bit her lip, worried sick over what Pan had done to her body. “Please don't let that have been a spar,” she whispered desperately, silently praying that nothing awful had happened, and nothing had accidentally been revealed—like the truth behind “Bra's” sudden willingness to fight. “Please, please don't let her have been sparring…” The other end of the phone began making noises again, and Bra refocused her attention on the line. “Pan? You still there?” Bulma's voice asked shakily. Bra felt her heart sink. “Yeah, I'm here,” she replied nervously. “Why? What happened?” “Bra's…sparring with Trunks,” Bulma replied, her tone wavering, panic rising in her voice. “I had no idea she sparred, ever…kind of makes me suspicious, don't you agree?” “Um…” Bra thought fast, trying to come up with an excuse to give to her mother. “Well, it's not really that suspicious, I've been training her and, well, you know how Vegeta would react if he found out his baby girl was fighting without proper guidance…please don't tell him? We kept it a secret for a reason!” She could tell her mother wasn't buying it. She could almost feel the doubt running though her mind. But Bulma said nothing of any importance, only sighed and whispered, “She'll be in within five minutes. Hold if you can.” ~*~ Pan twisted her body to avoid the approaching ki blast, but she still wasn't quite used to Bra's muscles—she was hit square in the back, sending her sprawling across the lawn, face smearing into the dirt. She scowled, spitting out the soil and wiping a bit of blood from her lip. The only thing that ran through her mind was how dearly he would pay. She hadn't the time to react, however. Before she could even think, she was swallowed in yet another eruption of energy, feeling her skin burn, wanting to hurt him for all she was worth. But, try as she might, she couldn't hurt him. She was too weak…and she wanted desperately not to be. She couldn't even block before he hit her again, knocking her away from her new crater and back into the grass. The pain was unimaginable—Bra's body was not accustomed to such exercise. It hurt ten times worse than it should have; every ki blast burned away twice as much of her skin, and nearly every time she was hit, it drew blood. This was nothing that Pan was used to in her matches with Trunks. Momentarily, the attacks ceased, and Pan could no longer hear the explosive blasts of ki, nor the thunderous crash they made with the ground; she couldn't feel her skin peeling off anymore, and was very grateful for that. The only sound that rang through the twilight air was both of their labored breathing—Pan's due to the pain, and Trunks' due to the strenuous attacks he discharged. Thinking something was wrong, she glanced up, meeting his eyes and silently questioning them, asking what the problem was, and why she was no longer feeling pain. He smiled weakly, and Pan felt like melting on the spot. “You okay?” he asked, not sounding quite okay himself, but trying to act strong, for her. “Yeah,” she panted in reply, her thought process faltering, exhaustion taking over. “You've gotten weak, Trunks,” she commented, smiling warmly, begging herself to let it all be a dream…to let herself change back to the girl she had been, and thus not being related to him. Plus, the pain would go down, and she would highly appreciate that. But, unfortunately, she was Bra. The real Bra was going to kill her if she found out what happened here. Bra fighting was just not normal—she would surely hurt Pan for implying such a thing as it was. If she ever found out about the fight, and all the blood, Pan would be doomed. Trunks sighed sadly in mention of his weakness. “That's because I'm busy. You girls have nothing to do but fight each other, apparently, but I have a company to run and—” “Yeah, right,” she interrupted, smirking at him, mischief in her eyes. “You're just looking for an excuse. You only don't want me to tell Dad about this so that he makes you fight again. You know what I think, brother?” He stared at her blankly. “What?” “I think you'd rather be weak. You don't enjoy fighting like the rest of us do, save for Goten who seems to think the world revolves around him and Paris. I think all that office paperwork has just made you into a boring golfer—manager.” He flared again, and she smirked, sensing the rise in his ki. “What?” he demanded shortly. “You think—” “You heard me!” she challenged. “Come on, tough guy, let's go. I can take you, eventually.” “Or so you'd like to think,” he growled, shooting toward her once more. She quickly powered up and easily dodged, but that only resulted in her being hit with a ki blast. She powered up even more, almost reaching her limit in her own body, amazed at how free she was in Bra's. Was it possible that Bra actually did train in her spare time? Another ki blast quickly knocked her to the ground, and soon her face was in the dirt again. She was beginning to become fed up with this nonsense, and completely let loose. She let out all of her power in one sharp explosion, anger rising, power increasing. She yelped in slight pain when she did so, feeling as though her body had just lost control, her muscles aching horribly. But she refused to take defeat this way…she couldn't let him beat her… “Oh, wow,” Trunks commented, ceasing his attack a few meters away from her. The ki ball he held in his hand vanished; his mouth dropped open in pure amazement. “Bra…you're a…how long did you say you've been training?” She stared back at him, lifting an eyebrow in confusion. “Only a month or so. Why?” she inquired, beginning to let her power drop. Fighting was obviously not important anymore. “No! Don't power down! Stay that way!” he commanded, floating down to land in front of her. He closely inspected her face, and she felt a large sweatdrop form on her brow, slightly nervous under his gaze. He gingerly poked at her hair, pressing it to her head, then pulling back a strand, staring at it in disbelief. “How can you have trained for a month and already be a Super Saiyan?” “WHAT!?” she screeched, falling backwards and landing on her butt on the ground. “I'm a WHAT!?“ “Super Saiyan,” he repeated, oblivious to her surprise. “When did this happen? You should really tell Dad about it, he'd be really proud of you.” She stared up at him, shock and disbelief all over her face. “This didn't happen!” she stuttered, looking panicked. “I'm not supposed to…how did this happen? I'm not supposed to be strong enough to do that…” “You obviously are,” he informed her, smiling faintly. “Hey, this is great! We can fight all-out now! Now you can actually hold your own!” “NO!” she cried, leaping back to her feet, panic in her eyes. “No, we can't do that! I already bruised myself enough as it is—I don't have time, I shouldn't have even—” “BRA!?” screeched a loud, disbelieving voice that sounded all too familiar for the pair of fighters in the yard. Pan winced, dropping her power level as quickly as she could and turning to look at the source of the voice. Bulma was standing there, wide-eyed, far too shocked to even dream of saying anything other than her daughter's name and possibly an exclamation to Dende. Pan chuckled nervously, rubbing the side of her head in mostly embarrassment. “Hi, Mom,” she called, smiling warily, feeling Bra's life crumble in her hands. She hadn't meant to screw everything up, and on the first day, no less. “Um, what brings you out here?” Bulma uttered a few words, none of which made sense, continuing her gaping at her “daughter". She didn't understand—Bra had never fought anyone, never even shown an interest in martial arts. Now she was a Super Saiyan? How had this happened? She pushed her shock aside for a moment, considering the machine, and all aspects of this. It was quite possible that it was Pan in Bra's skin, and she knew that Pan wouldn't be able to give up fighting for that long…but on the first day? “You, um, have a phone call,” she murmured, suspicion clouding her tone. “I'll go tell her to hold for another minute while you clean yourself up.” “Okay…thanks,” Pan said lamely while Bulma stalked away, back to the phone to interrogate “Pan” on the line. Pan turned nervously back to Trunks, honestly feeling like she'd been exposed. “You have anything to say before she kills me?” Trunks sighed, casting his eyes away from her. “Only to wish you luck,” he remarked dryly. “I know, sounds very supportive, but it's the best I can do. See you later if you live through this.” Pan sighed as well, leaving her “brother” in the yard alone and trudging to the house. He obviously wasn't going to be any help, and she still couldn't tell if he knew or not. The only thing she could do now was pray that Bulma didn't kill her or scream at her for using that machine…she didn't know quite how to back out of it if she did. Back at the house, Bulma was standing, irritated, against the wall, phone receiver in one hand, the other folded over her stomach and straddled comfortably on the opposite side of her waist. “It's Pan,” she said shortly as Pan took the phone from her hand. “Okay…thanks,” she replied warily, putting the phone to her ear. “Pan? What's up?” “YOU MORON!” Bra shouted into her ear, causing Pan to jump back from the phone. She smiled weakly again at Bulma and ran from the room, taking the extension up to hers, afraid of her verbal attacker yelling too loudly. “How could you be fighting in my body!? I ought to expose you for this! I can't believe you did something like that! My brother probably thinks I'm insane—and you! I hope you didn't do too well, that would unmask us for sure!” “I, um, I accidentally used my power instead of yours,” Pan admitted quietly. Bra grew deathly quiet on the other side, saying nothing, waiting for Pan to explain. “Apparently, in a half Saiyan body, my powers are good enough to…go Super.” There was silence on the other end; the kind of silence that makes one fear that their life is over. Pan was certain that hers was. “You made me a Super Saiyan?” Bra asked, her tone terrifyingly even and low, striking fear into the heart of her counterpart. “It was an accident,” Pan said uncomfortably. “I don't know how I did it. I thought I had your strength when I was you, but I guess I kept my own—my body's only a quarter Saiyan, and I guess I would be able to go Super if I was you. It's an amazing experience; you should try it sometime.” “Now is not the time to be joking,” Bra said icily. “You almost killed our cover. I saved your butt by telling Mom that I was training you. I only pray to Dende that you told them the same thing.” “Yeah, I did,” Pan confirmed guiltily. “Good. Now, I have to exact my revenge by screwing up some aspect of your life. Good night.” “Bra! Hold on a second!” Pan shouted, but Bra had already hung up on her, and panic rose in Pan's heart. Anytime Bra said she would exact revenge, it was usually a pure truth. There was no way in hell that this could be good. Pan sighed and clicked off the phone, silently promising herself that whatever Bra did to her, she would do ten times worse back. This body-switching thing was kind of scary, if used for the wrong purposes. These were definitely the wrong purposes. ~*~ Lazily and sleepily, Bra leaned back onto Pan's bed, which was her bed now, unfortunately. It was far less comfortable than her bed at home. She almost wished that she'd brought it along, but that would not be helpful to the current situation. The current situation would only be helped if there was a way to go back in time and erase what happened. But, as her mother had told her once, the only way to change the past is to create an alternate future. She didn't need an alternate future, she needed this one altered. Time travel simply wouldn't work. After writing a somewhat long and very haughty diary entry into Pan's not-so-commonly-used notebook, she had fallen asleep out of exhaustion. The anger was enough to bring her down, this time. She was still in disbelief. Pan had turned into a Super Saiyan while she was in her body. Now Bra was a Super Saiyan. Now, people would be expecting her to fight when she changed back. She couldn't imagine anything worse that could have possibly happened. Of course, what seems like the worst possible happening is always sure to quickly retaliate itself, proving that worse things can, and will, occur before the day is out. “Pan?” A loud voice brought her out of her near-slumber, and she jolted up out of bed, for fear that if she didn't react, her secret would be known. The call was followed shortly by a light knock on the door, and a cautious repeating of, “Panny, are you up?” “Yeah!” she called, sounding more cheerful than she meant to. The voice that was calling her was definitely not her parent's. It was a male, but not Gohan. She couldn't quite place a name to it yet, however. “Who is it? What do you want?” “Panny, you should know my voice to hear it,” he chuckled, but made no move to open the door. “It's your one and only favorite uncle.” Bra froze up. “Goten!” she chirped, all too quickly. This was the absolute last thing she needed, now. Bra had quite a crush on this particular half-Saiyan, and she didn't exactly want to face him with her current situation on her mind. “What do you want?” “I've come to drag your lazy butt out of bed and force you to come downstairs and make me food,” he declared. “Now come on, do as I say, or else your Grandmother will hear about this.” She winced. Dealing with Chichi was definitely not one of her major goals for the week(s) she was going to be here. “Okay, I'm coming,” she mumbled resentfully, making her way over to the door. She was far too lazy to walk the whole way, so she merely floated, opening it in annoyance, just as she knew Pan to. When she did, though—her breath nearly caught in her throat. Goten wasn't dressed particularly to go anyplace special, just a trip across the back yard. His hair was more disheveled than she'd ever seen it in her life, not even combed through with a sweep of his hand, let alone an actual comb. As hard as she tried not to notice it, he was built without a flaw, and it definitely showed. She doubted that she'd ever seen him looking better in her life. The problem was, he was her uncle now. It was then that she realized how tough Pan had it. It took a lot of self-control not to throw herself onto him. She respected Pan immensely for not doing anything awful with Trunks when she had undoubtedly wanted to. “Panny?” Goten asked carefully, and for a moment Bra didn't even realize he was talking to her. He eyed her worriedly, slightly put off by the glazed-over look in her eyes. “Are you alright?” “Huh? Oh!” She snapped back to attention, a blush immediately spreading over her cheeks. “I, um, wasn't paying attention. Cook? We're gonna cook?” “Yep,” he confirmed. Panic began to set in. She didn't know how to cook. Fortunately for her, he caught onto it before it was too late. “Mom gave me this instant cookie mix,” he explained. “I left it in the kitchen. She said me and you could make it together, being as we're both about equally kitchen-impaired when we're tired.” Bra lifted an eyebrow, somewhat amazed and confused at this revelation. “Cookies? For breakfast?” “Yeah, why not?” She giggled and nervously scratched her head, racking her brain of Pan-type things to say. “So, what kind of cookies are they?” “Your favorite, chocolate chip,” he replied with a smirk. “Mom picked 'em specially for you, because she knew I'd eat anything.” “Oh!” The smile on her face faded temporarily, only to be replaced a moment later with a larger and more stupid-looking one, the girl inside doing a wonderful job of imitating her counterpart while not even trying to. “Well, let's go then! My breakfast awaits!” Goten laughed and walked away, down toward the kitchen, but Bra remained frozen in the doorway, scared to death over what to do. There was nothing she could see worse than this possibly happening. Pan was lucky—she saw Trunks all the time, and she knew how to act normal around him. But Bra, on the other hand, didn't spend a whole lot of quality time with Goten. In fact, she avoided him, for the most part, for fear she'd say something stupid and ruin her chances with him, if she had any at all. Now she had to live with him, practically as her brother. Suddenly, the thought of going back to her old self and having to fight for the rest of her life didn't look like such a bad idea. It was much better than staying Pan and having to face Goten like this every day of her life. Silently sighing and shaking her head, she trudged after him, down toward the kitchen to make their breakfasts. Goten was there, looking puzzled as ever as he read the back of the cookie mix box. Bra carefully approached him, looking somewhat nervous as he couldn't even figure out how to read. But he looked up, a bright smile on his face, and announced, “I know exactly what to do. Don't worry, because everything is under control!” Bra breathed a sigh of relief. She had no idea how to cook. Him knowing what to do would definitely make her life a little easier. “Get one stick of butter,” he instructed, watching her as she did as he said. She stared at him, waiting to find out what to do with this butter. He glanced at the box, rereading it, feeling as though he'd done something wrong here. “Oops! Stupid me! Get a bowl first, then put the butter in it.” She sighed, exasperated, and followed this updated step perfectly. She grabbed a large bowl and carefully placed the butter inside. Sweatdropping, she asked timidly, “Don't you think we should unwrap it first?” “Doesn't say to,” Goten shrugged. Bra accepted this as a decent answer, leaving the wrapped stick of margarine alone. “Next, two eggs. Get those in there, too.” He watched her remove two eggs from their carton and place them gently next to the butter. “Good! Now, the mix.” He removed the cookie mix from the box, carefully setting it into the bowl along with everything else. Bra smiled, delighted at how easily that first step had gone. It was almost too good to be true. “Okay!” Goten cheered himself, reading the box carefully before relaying the message to his “niece” to be executed. “Next, it says to use an electric mixer to mix the contents of the bowl until there's no clumps left, and only cookie dough. That should be easy enough, right?” “Right!” she cheerfully confirmed, digging in the Sons' kitchen cabinets for an electric mixer. Unfortunately, neither she nor Goten had any idea where one was, so they tore the kitchen apart for twenty minutes in order to find one. Goten was the lucky one to finally locate a mixer, plugging into the wall without hesitation—he was ecstatic to have his cookies almost done. He did glance over at Bra, though, and caught her attention by asking, “Do you want to work this thing or you want me to?” “You…” she started to reply, but memories of how well Goten handled electric appliances came rushing back to her, particularly those of Chichi's old washing machine; that was not something she wanted him to have to relive. “No, you know what? I'll do it.” He handed the mixer off and watched contentedly as she turned it on, hesitantly placing it near the bowl. The hum of the equipment was a little too loud for her—she didn't enjoy sitting there listening to it at all. “Are you sure this is how we do this?“ she shouted over the noise, referring to leaving everything wrapped and the eggs in their shells and all. “Positive!“ he shouted back. She shrugged, and stuck the mixer into the bowl. A frown of annoyance immediately covered her face. The thing got stuck on the wrapper of the butter stick. She hesitated, pressing harder, only receiving less of a reaction from the mixer. It didn't seem to want to blend everything like it was supposed to. “Come on,” she grumbled, shaking it a bit. “Work, you stupid machine!” “Don't insult the appliances!” Goten warned sarcastically. “They might rebel!” Bra rolled her eyes, shooting him a glare. The butter was completely squashed now, still in its wrapper, some yellow ooze seeping out of the seals. “I don't think this is cooperating,” she told him reluctantly. “I think we did this wrong.” “Try mixing an egg,” he suggested, lazily sinking into a chair. She shrugged, willing to try anything at this point. She removed the mixer from the butter, immediately being rewarded with the loudness of the thing, and dropped it straight down onto an egg. The shell shattered, and egg ooze was sent everywhere. Bra yelped and dropped the mixer as some went straight for her eyes. “Panny! You okay?” Goten instantly shouted, trying to get up but only managing to fall over. The bowl tipped, having no one to control the mixer inside of it, and the broken egg fell to the ground, barely missing Goten's head. The bowl was the fortunate thing to land on him, followed by the mixer, which wisely chose to whack him straight on the back of his head. “Goten!” Bra gasped, seeing this happen with her good eye while continuously wiping at her other one. “Are you okay?” “Me? Yeah, I'm fine.” He grinned, knocking on his head, as though he were showing off the hollow sound that echoed from it. “My head's thick enough to take it.” She giggled, unable to stop herself. “Quit insulting yourself and help me out here. What are we supposed to do for breakfast? By the way, you have butter in your hair.” He instinctively ran a hand over it, pulling it back to scan for any excess butter. “Liar,” he scowled, wiping the now-greasy hand off on his sweatpants. “And I don't know. I guess we'll just go antagonize Bulma until she feeds us.” “Guess so,” she agreed, although she wasn't exactly sure how well that would work. “Leave now, or would you rather make yourself presentable to be seen in public?” He glanced down at his sweatpants and way-too-big tee-shirt combo, then glanced back up at her, smiling sheepishly. “I guess I'll change. You probably should, too, Miss I-Can-Only-Use-One-Eye.” She stuck her tongue out at him, then promptly turned to go back to her room. In the middle of the hallway, she stopped, realizing she'd just thought of it as hers and not Pan's. Maybe adjusting to this wouldn't be so bad after all. ~*~ “Good morning everyone!” Pan called cheerfully, bounding into the kitchen to meet her other three very groggy “family members". None of them were morning people, and she knew that. She was just thrilled that she hadn't been killed in her sleep. “Did everyone sleep okay?” “No,” was the simultaneous answer. Vegeta was, as usual, sitting all tensely with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at whoever happened to be speaking out of the corner of his eye. Bulma was slouched over the table, trying unsuccessfully to read the newspaper. Trunks was asleep, resting contentedly across two chairs and hugging the back of a third. Pan couldn't help but giggle. He was so adorable. Of course, never would this be common knowledge. No way. Especially not while she was his sister. Being his sister wasn't too bad, anyway. It was a lot easier to talk to him. She didn't have to be shy about anything anymore. She could really open up this way. Maybe she'd like to stay his sister for a while, just to see how she really liked it. Acting on impulse, she grabbed a glass of orange juice from the table, ignoring Bulma's groggy protest, and skirted around to stand over her “brother", grinning maniacally. “You think I should wake him up?” she asked, almost evilly. “What are you doing?” Vegeta demanded, sharp glare now focused on “Bra” although he seemed rather amused by the whole thing. “I'm pouring this on his head,” she explained. “It should wake him up. Too bad we don't have a dog or something to lick it off for him.” “Bra!” Bulma shouted disapprovingly, but she didn't do anything to stop her “daughter". Instead, she only watched in amusement, smiling faintly at this small act of sibling rivalry. Feeling content with her decision, Pan slowly tilted the glass, watching the orange juice inside flow toward the slanted end in an attempt to remain level. She let a drop spill over, falling to hit him in the ear, and waited for his reaction. A moment passed, and he did nothing. Assuming he was too dense to notice it, she proceeded to dump the rest on his head, soaking his hair, face, and neck. “Hey!” he shouted angrily, instantly awakening to three laughing family members. Even his father was chuckling at the sight of the Saiyan Princess drenching her older brother in a breakfast beverage. After his initial shout, Trunks was at a loss for words, poking at his hair and frowning when it was damp with the sticky orange juice. Pan giggled and put the glass down, a smirk spreading over her borrowed face. “You gonna do something about that?” she taunted teasingly. “No. Too early,” was the reply she received, her “brother” sulking back across his chairs and trying to go back to sleep. “Oh! Trunks, you're impossible!” she huffed. “It's Sunday. You should get up bright and early and come train with me. Now that it's not a secret anymore, I could use the practice.” She stood and walked to the doorway, pausing to glance back at him and add, “It's always nice to pound someone into the ground first thing in the morning.” “Yeah, you know what? It is,” he grumbled, pushing himself off of the chair. He gave a small half-salute to his parents before chasing after his sister, amazed at how different she was than he remembered. Bulma glanced at her husband, not surprised to see him looking totally shocked. Of course, he didn't outwardly look shocked—it was something only Bulma could tell. “She's been training with Pan,” she explained soothingly. “She enjoys fighting now. I'm sure it's just a phase, and she'll grow out of it before the week's up. She probably just felt left out while everyone around her was going Super Saiyan and fighting bad guys. I bet she just wants to be accepted.” “She should have begun her training long ago,” Vegeta grumbled, pushing aside his initial shock. “She is a Saiyan of the royal bloodline. It's natural for her to want to fight.” The blue-haired woman sighed, looking after her daughter and son. “I'm sure,” she mumbled half-heartedly, looking somewhat forlorn and wondering what had happened to her baby. ~*~ Try as she might, she couldn't get a conversation started. She didn't know what to talk to him about. She didn't know what he would want to talk about. She was hopelessly lost, and stuck just trailing behind him, following even thought she so badly wanted to lead the way to her home. Her real home, and not the home that she was living at now. She missed it already. They flew on in silence, even though he didn't really mind. He liked the feel of the wind rushing past, and he liked to hear the birds and the trees and the air around him. She, on the other hand, was practically dying. She found the silence deafening. She hated quiet. However, it was interesting to think about—she was about to go see how her counterpart was adjusting to life as, well, her. She wanted to see how Pan was interacting with everyone, and how well she was concealing her true identity. Knowing Pan, and her Son family background, she gave her three days before someone had her totally figured out. Three days was all it would probably take. Then, Pan and Bra would be back to their original selves, each getting yelled at by their respective parents. Their real respective parents. Home was just ahead. If she focused, she could already feel Pan's and Trunks' ki's flickering; they were fighting again. Judging by the lack of enthusiasm in Vegeta's ki, he probably already knew. That was just perfect. Now, she would probably end up being trained by her father when she switched back. Wonderful. “Whoa,” Goten commented quietly, catching Bra's attention almost immediately. “How long has Bra been fighting?” “I don't know, three weeks?” she guessed, wondering what Pan had told Trunks and Bulma and perhaps Vegeta. “Around there somewhere. I get lost after five days.” He chuckled softly, then grew serious again. “She has enough power to be Super Saiyan already? She must really be talented at this.” Bra mentally bopped herself over the head. “Yeah, she's pretty strong. She's got royal blood and all. It's not surprising.” “Why, Pan, is that jealousy in your voice?” he teased, glancing back even as he flew to smirk at who he thought was his niece. “Of course not!” she yelped, honestly revolted by the accusation. “Why would I be jealous of her?” “Because she's been training for three weeks and went SS, and you've been training your whole life and aren't there yet.” That was a good point. It did bring on a twinge of jealousy and even guilt in Bra's heart. “I guess you've got a point,” she admitted sourly. “Still, though, I can't be jealous. I trained her. I taught her everything she knows. I admire her for being so talented at this, while I guess I wasn't meant to fight.” “Of course you were. You're Gohan's daughter,” Goten reassured her. Oddly enough, it made Bra feel better when he said that. Her best guess was that she'd retained some of Pan's personality and pride when she became the younger girl. If Pan had kept her own strength, then anything was possible. Finally, they'd come upon the building, instantly recognizable due to the two golden swirls of energy above the ground. Neither of the flyers said a word, but both simultaneously dropped from the sky, landing gently on the grass outside the front door of the Briefs' home. Bulma was there, looking up at Trunks and Pan, watching their fight. “It's amazing, isn't it?” she asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper against the sound of the auras of the fighters. “It is,” Goten agreed, looking somewhat proud. Bra caught on to this, wondering why in the world he would be proud of her. She wasn't even related to him. “Pan here trained her, you know. I wonder why Pan can't go SS?” “One of the many mysteries of the universe, Goten,” Bulma chuckled. “I'm guessing your parents are out of town, Panny, and you and Goten need breakfast. Am I right?” “Amazingly so,” Bra confirmed, smiling at her mother. She missed her already. How pathetic. Saiyans weren't supposed to…'Oh, Kami, I just referred to myself as a Saiyan. Please kill me now.' But the Namek either didn't hear her request or refused it, because she didn't drop dead. Instead, she followed her mother halfway to the door, but froze instantly when she heard her brother shout her—rather, Pan's name. She stopped and turned back, looking to the sky and smiling faintly as the pair of half-Saiyans drifted to the ground, shooting Pan a half-scowl. “Good morning, you two,” she said politely, a small growl escaping through her clenched teeth. She didn't exactly forgive Pan yet, and the now-blue-haired Princess could tell. “You have a nice sleep?” “Not really,” Pan said meekly. Bra smirked. 'Good. One less thing you have to suffer through.' “How about you, Trunks?” “I did sleep okay, until Bra here decided it'd be a good idea to shower me in orange juice,” he sighed, hanging his head. Bra reached over and pulled his hair, confirming that there was now-dried orange juice once soaking it. “What are you doing here? Wanna spar? All four of us could—” “No!” Pan and Bra shouted simultaneously, then glaring at each other for having the same thought at the same time. Trunks stared at them in surprise. “Okay. Just asking.” “Pan still has a little teaching to do,” Pan said icily. “Isn't that right?” “Yes, it is,” Bra confirmed, shooting her counterpart a death glare. A small idea popped into her mind, and she grinned temporarily at the thought. It would be painful for her, but at least Pan would suffer the most from it. Payback screamed in her ears until she finally couldn't take it anymore. This would be her course of action. Sure, it was weird, but she could handle it. It'd be freaky and not quite comfortable at times, but if she played along right, it would all end well, for her. Not so well for Pan. Unless, of course, she grew too emotionally attached to being Pan. But what were the odds of that? Slim to none, she told herself. There was no way she could ever get used to being Pan…especially with her current vengeful plot underway. That wouldn't turn out well at all. It would all be too freakish to comprehend. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I want my breakfast,” Goten announced, trying not to be rude, but still looking somewhat horrified at the thought of not eating. “I'm going inside. Panny, come with me?” Pan had to stop herself from answering, barely catching the words in her mouth. She shot Bra a glare when she didn't even notice she was being spoken to. It took a few more seconds, but eventually Bra caught on to what Pan was trying to tell her. “Oh! Yeah, of course!” she exclaimed, nervously giggling and trying not to blush out of embarrassment. “I'm famished!” Trunks chuckled at his friend, who looked totally baffled at the use of a big word like that, but he kept Pan in the corner of his eye. She was acting oddly this morning. Coincidentally, so was his sister. There was probably something to be figured out from all of this, but it was too early to be able to piece information together. Best he could figure was that she hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before. He pushed the thought out of his mind and looked back to his sister, finding her shooting Pan a death glare. “Uh, Bra? Finish our fight, or what?” “Later,” she automatically replied, not removing her gaze from the younger girl. “Breakfast sounds appealing, don't you think?” “Me? No, I already ate. Duh. Why do you think I was asleep?” “You're…” she trailed off before she ended up saying something insulting, and promptly bit her cheek. She definitely didn't need to be offending Trunks right about now. “I don't know, I guess I figured since I didn't eat anything then no one did.” Goten glanced at her, suspicion riding in his eyes. “You went out to fight him without eating anything? Don't you know how much weaker that makes you?” Pan looked at her former uncle, blinking astonishment out of her expression. “I—I—No, I didn't…I've only been fighting for a month! What do you want from me? I don't know everything there is to know about it all!” Bra cut in, grabbing Goten's arm and dragging him toward the door of her real home. “Aah, Uncle's just a little wired, please don't make all this turn into a verbal war, I don't want to deal with it…come on, Uncle Goten, let's go have some breakfast…” He gladly complied, of course, and within seconds the two were in the house, leaving Pan and her “brother” outside, staring at where they'd once been. “They certainly are acting weird this morning,” Trunks commented dryly, somewhat confused and showing it. “Yeah…I don't know what's up with her. I guess she's mad at me again for some reason or another.” Pan sighed, knowing exactly what was wrong with her counterpart, but of course not telling Trunks that. “We'll finish our match later, if you want. You should probably talk to her or something…she always did open up to you better than she did to me.” He looked at her, confused. How would she know? He never remembered Bra being anywhere near anytime he was with Pan. She still considered herself Pan's best friend, even when Pan had told him more than once that she was more comfortable talking to him than anyone else on the planet. Bra didn't know this; she shouldn't know this. How did she know, then? Again, he pushed it out of his mind, blaming the early hour for his enormous confusion on the topic. “Guess you're right. I'll abduct her later, get her ice cream or something. She needs to relax a little.” “Get her to talk,” Pan advised. “Then tell me what she says. I wanna know what I did.” 'There,' she thought, obviously proud of herself. 'I'm better at this acting like Bra thing than I thought. That's exactly what she'd say, right?' Trunks was puzzled. “Sure,” he agreed cautiously, wondering what was up with his sister and exactly how long he'd distanced himself from her. It couldn't have been long enough for her to change this much, could it? “Let's just finish the fight, and then worry about Pan.” Pan smiled faintly. Just like Trunks; when he was confused about something, he ignored it until he figured it out. She didn't know exactly what he was confused on, but she figured it was probably over why “Pan” was acting weird. “Okay, good plan. I believe I was right about here, right?” she asked, smirking and launching into an immediate attack. Chapter 3 FanFiction Main Back Home E-Mail Me