Chapter Text
The Outfit
Tonight is the night. The night I’ll show him. And the rest of them. But especially him.
I pull on my tight, strapless red dress. It squeezes my core, not that it needs much compression, and flares out at the hips. The neckline plunges nearly to my navel, and the skirt rides high. A pair of matching red thigh-high boots and long red gloves complete the ensemble. The dress is made from high-grade silk, and the boots and gloves are made of smooth calfskin leather (Westland Leathers).
The overall effect would be rather skanky were it not for the classy Saiyan-style necklace around my neck: a circle of pearlescent squares and a gold plate with three round ruby insets. My hair, usually up in a high, voluminous ponytail, falls behind my shoulders. One obnoxious sprig sticks out from the side and stubbornly refuses to do as it’s told. I hope it’s not an omen.
I look stunning, of course, but there’s an undercurrent of... shame, perhaps? It’s not the skin on display that I mind so much as the way the dress makes me feel... ordinary. Like just another airheaded heiress, not the genius princess of a proud warrior race. I remind myself that I designed this outfit, and for a very specific purpose. It’s a means to an end. And I do look good. But I can't help feeling an emptiness. Some kind of existential chasm between who I am and who I should be. This is temporary. Ephemeral.
I take a deep breath and mentally prepare myself to go down to the atrium. I will show him. I am a princess. I will have my prince.
The Party
When I open the door to the atrium, a chorus of "happy birthdays" erupts from the room.
"There's the birthday girl," Trunks says, grinning at me. He's wearing a six-button dark purple pinstripe suit by Corzetti, a yellow silk tie by Rizoni, a black cotton shirt by Stelle, and silver cufflinks engraved with the Capsule Corporation logo that I made myself. He looks fantastic, like always, and I'm a little jealous.
My mother smiles. "You look amazing, honey."
Pan chuckles, approaching me with a whistle. "Damn, Bra, you get lost on your way to the strip club?"
I laugh it off, though the comment stings a bit. I look over Pan's outfit. It’s a simple black dress, spaghetti straps, a low back. It looks decent, though a bit plain, and it doesn’t fit as well as mine. The material is polyester, rather cheap polyester at that. The straps are slightly too long, causing it to sag, though it does expose more of her cleavage, which is perhaps what she was going for. I suspect it was purchased at a department store.
"Just messing with you, you look great, girl," she says, smiling. I smile back.
I look over the room. There's a table filled with gifts, all wrapped in colorful paper. The guests are all my family and closest friends, with no plus-ones allowed. I see Kakarot, wearing his typical orange gi, picking shrimp out of a tray, and laughing at something Gohan said. Gohan is wearing a nice navy suit, but the jacket is unbuttoned and the tie is slightly loose. I don't recognize the brand, but it's tailored, and the fabric appears to be high-quality linen.
Chi-Chi is wearing a very nice blue silk qipao: not my style, but definitely hers, and she pulls it off nicely. She's talking to my mother, who's wearing a sleeveless green turtleneck and a pearl necklace, and Videl, who's wearing a low-cut red dress. It looks similar in shape to Pan's but better fitting, although mine still fits better.
My father is wearing his Saiyan battle armor, as usual, but with the red cape and necklace I made for him after the style he described his own father wearing. He looks regal. I wonder if I could convince him to wear it every day. He's talking to Piccolo, who's wearing the same turban-and-shoulderpads combo he usually wears. Even I have to admit it works for him.
I got so wrapped up in looking around that I almost failed to notice the absence of the most important guest.
"Where's Goten?"
Trunks looks over. "He's, uh, running late. He should be here soon. Don't worry, Bra."
I frown, my brow setting in a scowl worth more than any paternity test.
"He'd better be," I say, smoothing the hem of my dress.
Goten Arrives
Sure enough, Goten shows up, half an hour late. I stop pacing and approach the door.
He’s dressed in what could charitably be described as a three-piece suit, though none of the pieces complement each other, and his collar is half-upturned. I don’t recognize the brand, but I suspect the coat is a cheap knockoff of a Fiori line from a few years ago. What's especially annoying is that it's baggy and untailored and obscures his muscular body. The tie is a few centimeters too broad and tied in the saddest four-in-hand I’ve ever seen. Thankfully, he’s worn the black dress shoes I gave him for his birthday two years ago instead of those ridiculous brown loafers. I make a mental note to get him a proper suit so he won’t embarrass both of us when we appear at events together as a couple.
Despite his disaster area of an outfit, he's still Goten, so he's still frustratingly attractive. He’s carrying a box wrapped in brown paper, likely from a grocery bag. It’s taped haphazardly.
"Sorry I'm late," he says, "I was picking up your present. I didn't expect it to take so long."
"You could have waited and given it to me later. I would have preferred your presence to your presents."
I chuckle slightly at my own joke. Goten blinks, and a tinge of red comes to his cheeks. He's clearly noticing the outfit I'm wearing. Good.
"So do you still want your—"
"Yes."
I snatch the box out of his hands. "I just can't wait to unwrap you," I say, though I’m not looking at the gift. Goten blushes and glances away.
"You look ridiculous, by the way," I say, realizing I may have overplayed my hand. "When I said I wanted you at my birthday party, I didn't mean as the clown."
He chuckles, self-awarely. "Yeah, I was in a hurry."
"Hold still."
I set down the box and reach up to adjust his collar. I allow my hands to linger slightly too long on the skin of his neck, and he definitely notices.
Goten rubs the base of his neck after I pull away, seemingly flustered.
"So, you feel any different now that you're 18?" he asks, though he seems to regret the implications of this question as soon as it leaves his mouth.
"I, uh, I feel completely different! Night and day, really. I'm much more... mature. Able to make adult decisions. Do adult things."
This is a lie. I don't feel especially different today than I did yesterday. But I want him to believe I've completely shifted from the girl he knew into a woman he could love.
"Uh, yeah... you can vote now. And play pachinko, I guess."
"And get married, and, uh... well... start a family, that kind of thing," I say, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the box.
He seems surprised by the mention of marriage. "You have a boyfriend?"
"No, I don't. But I have my eye on someone. He's a really sweet guy, but a bit slow on the uptake sometimes."
"If that's the case, you should just tell him how you feel." Goten seems to have completely missed the point, slipping into older mentor mode instead of getting the hint. Or maybe he knows, and is choosing to deflect. I hope it's not the latter.
"I intend to, very soon."
"That's great," he says, grinning that grin, the one that always makes my stomach do flips. "Good luck with him. Say, I should probably go talk to Trunks. Happy birthday, kiddo."
At the very moment that word leaves his mouth, the urge to strike his handsome face rises within me. But it's too late. He's already turned away and is walking across the atrium toward Trunks. Kiddo. Kiddo. Kiddo. The word echoes in my head like a mocking chime. I look down at the box he gave me and see I've crushed the cardboard.
Dammit.