Chapter Text
Eighteen months had passed like whispers in the wind. The Capsule Corp private medical wing, typically a fortress of cutting-edge technology among sterile white walls, now welcomed the warm beams of the waning sun. Tinted windows bathed the room in soft, golden light, playing across Bulla's exhausted—yet triumphant—face. As she cradled her newborn daughter, her eyes teemed with happiness—a far cry from the furrowed questions that plagued her moments ago.
Beside her, her mother Bulma leaned forward, a patient and enigmatic smile etched on her lips, revealing how much she was already in love with the tiny creature in her daughter’s arms.
"Oh, Bulla, she's just beautiful," Goten sighed, overcoming his timid nature to gaze at the child. His eyes glowed with an identical adoration. As her baby’s father, his heart almost leapt out of his chest with overflowing emotions.
It was incredible how fast love manifested so deeply within him. He reached out hesitatingly, as though afraid she might crumble under his touch, and gently brushed his fingers against her tiny cheek before locking eyes with Bulla—whose gaze shimmered with anticipation. Goten's eyes fell on Bulla's hand, her finger sporting the wedding ring he had placed there almost a year ago.
His heart skipped a beat. Had it already been so long since they had publicly pledged their love?
Despite the passage of time, it felt like yesterday. His unwavering gaze met hers, and within that moment, a thousand unsaid confirmations danced, the connection between them solidified.
"Isn't she precious?" Bulla's words seemed to float gently like a summer breeze, softly pulling Goten back from his reverie.
“Of course. She's inherited her mother's beauty." Goten's eyes gazed lovingly at his newborn daughter. The slightest tuft of cerulean hair peeked through the blanket that comfortably cradled her. Although her eyes remained closed as she slept peacefully in Bulla's arms, he knew they would reflect the same crystalline blue that her mother's did.
However, there were still mysteries he looked forward to unwrapping, like the potential she carried as a Saiyan and the woman she would one day become.
Bulma's smile widened at Goten's compliment. She glanced up, eyes glancing toward the entrance to the medical wing and Vegeta, who had not yet made his appearance. Her thoughts trailed to a playful inner banter they once had: once the baby was born, Vegeta vehemently insisted she wouldn't get away with naming their grandchild.
He had missed his chance when Bulla was born, and he wouldn't weasel his way out of his grandfatherly duties with this one.
Bulma sighed, her gaze drifting back to the doorway, awaiting her husband's presence. He had undoubtedly ensured everything medical was in order during the birth. A part of her longed to share this exquisite moment with him, to see his face as he met their newborn granddaughter. The other part couldn't help but wonder what held him back.
Vegeta, who had always stood tall, proud, and unwaveringly confident, had yet to step in and witness what his youngest child had brought into the world.
A soft snort escaped Bulma's lips at recalling some of Vegeta's infamous reactions to change. Although she knew her husband loved both Trunks and Bulla deeply, he often battled against vulnerability, even when it presented itself in the form of new life.
Bulma almost laughed as she recalled Vegeta's intense, often awkward interactions with Trunks during his infancy. She could only imagine the warrior would respond similarly with their granddaughter, but deep down, she ached for him to break from what had clearly become his comfort zone.
Bulla carefully handed the cradled newborn to her mother who was already suggesting names for the newest Saiyan addition.
"I brought a list of names if you need any ideas," Bulma offered.
"Mom," Bulla's voice drew Bulma back from her musings.
"Hmm?" she hummed nonchalantly, adjusting her position as the baby continued to sleep.
"We've already given her a name," Goten said as he smiled at his daughter, whom they had already secretly named.
Bulma's eyes snapped to her daughter, eyebrows arching in surprise. "You have?" Her voice rose an octave. "Why didn't you tell me? I had so many good names picked out." She stared at Goten, awaiting his response. Her curiosity piqued.
Vegeta entered the room, finally making his presence known. Securing his signature pose next to Goten, he leaned against the bare wall, arms crossed in his usual stance. Goten exchanged a knowing grin with Bulla before replying to Bulma. "Vegeta beat you to it. We named her Eschalot." Goten's subtle smirk at Vegeta deepened, the weight of the revelation sinking in for Bulma.
Her lips parted slightly, a delicate gasp escaping, hands hugging her granddaughter closer. She felt her heart tighten in her chest. Vegeta had chosen their granddaughter's name and hadn't uttered a word to her. Bulma narrowed her eyes, taking in Vegeta's casual smirk.
The same smug smile had graced his lips so many times in the past, and she should have known there was no way he would let this opportunity slip through his hands. Vegeta's protective nature when it came to Bulla and Trunks was something few people truly understood – and she found it amusingly endearing.
Her voice softened as she addressed her husband, "You didn't think to tell me, Vegeta?" She kept her question light-hearted and draped her free arm around his waist, gently tugging him closer.
Vegeta's face betrayed no visible reaction, yet his lips curled into a ghost of a smile. Normally, his expression remained stoic, but this new role of a grandfather had softened some of his harder edges—though he would never admit it. Bulma often marveled at this subtle change, one she often caught only in their quieter and more intimate moments together.
Vegeta stepped away from the wall to lean over the hospital bed. A strong yet tender hand reached out, hovering just above their granddaughter's cerulean ringlet.
Vegeta allowed a fleeting moment for his fingers to trace the delicate curve of hair, lingering in a rare gesture of affection before drawing back and replying to Bulma's playful accusation.
"Would have spoiled the surprise," he said, his deep voice rumbling over her like thunder.
Bulma couldn't help but chuckle, unable to hold back a playful scoff. "It would have been nice to know ahead of time, you know." Her blue eyes shone with exasperated amusement.
"You mean like you did when Bulla was born," Vegeta drawled, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a smirk as he glanced sideways at Goten.
The young man returned his father-in-law's smirk, their rare exchange of affectionate banter filled with warmth. A tender smile spread across Bulma's lips, appreciating this unique dynamic.
The atmosphere in the Capsule Corp private medical wing was a medley of adoration and tranquility as the core Saiyan and human family reveled in their newest member.
Vegeta's deep rumble of laughter punctuated the silence, giving the space a lively touch as he shared some playful quip with Goten and Bulla.
Bulma drank in the whole scene with a contented sigh. The precious beams of sunlight filtered through the tinted windows, casting an aura of serenity as they bathed the entire room. Once her eyes fell upon her sleeping granddaughter, a beautiful bundle of warmth, her heart overflowed.
But she couldn't help but poke fun at Vegeta. "You might have gotten to name our granddaughter, but I still get to name Trunks and Mai's baby." As if on cue, Trunks and Mai walked in to congratulate the couple's new bundle of joy.
With a sultry smile and a knowing wink at Vegeta, Mai whispered in Bulma's ear, "Don't let him win them all, Bulma. I'm counting on you." She cast a sideways glance toward her husband Trunks, whose playful smirk conveyed his in-the-know participation in their ongoing jest.
Bulma let out a hearty laugh, patting Mai's hand. "Oh, don't you worry. I won't let Vegeta have all the fun. I've already got a few names in mind for our little prince or princess." Bulma giggled at Mai's words, imagining the mischievous faces of their future offspring—some combination of Vegeta's pride and Bulma's wit.
But, for now, all thoughts turned to the tiny, cherubic Eschalot, the spitting image of her mother as a baby.
Goten's eyes shone with warmth as he tenderly observed the new family. "She's perfect, just like her name," he said with a smile. Bulma gently handed baby Eschalot to Goten and he cradled her lovingly in his strong, but careful arms.
Her minuscule hands curled softly, and then relaxed with the leisurely breathing of innocent sleep. Thin strands of blue, like silk, framed a small face so similar to that of Bulla's at her age.
Vegeta looked on fondly at his family from his spot by the wall, arms still crossed defensively in front of him, but with a soft smile on his face; even he could not resist the pull of their warm connection.
He reveled in the pureness that surrounded them, a feeling of belonging and comfort that had only begun to envelop his life since Bulma.
The once aloof, prideful Saiyan prince now experienced the simple joy of holding his grandchild, cherishing this magical moment while listening to the laughter that filled the high-end hospital room.
It was a feeling Vegeta wouldn't have dared to dream of having, in his days spent as a single-minded warrior on Planet Vegeta.
Yet the winds of change brought forth a different turn. And as he stood there, Vegeta knew he wouldn't, couldn’t, trade these moments for anything. He admitted it to himself—a private and genuine realization—that these everyday instances had become some of his most treasured.