Play Along / Play Fair
Disclaimers: Dragon Ball Z and its subsequent characters belong to Akira Toriyama, I make no profit from this. Also, sequels are rarely as good as the original. Make of that what you will.
Prompt: King's Request
Chapter One: Worlds Apart
He doesn't beg. He will never beg. He is the Prince of Saiyans. He will endure the cutting jeers and taunts as silently as he does the blows from a pudgy, hard-knuckled pink fist, or the kicks from a boot-clad blue leg. But his resolve falters. Hate crackles across his mind not at the lashes from a long, white tail but at the nonchalant insults about allowing a useless Monkey such as he to live. He knows it's futile, he knows he is still far too young and inexperienced, but he can't help himself. He raises a hand and lets loose a ball of Ki at the white tyrant with painted lips.
And not for the first time did Bulma wake up to find herself sitting up in bed, her arm outstretched in the same manner as the boy in her dream, and the echoes of effeminate laughter in her ears. She pulled her arm back, wiping at the cold sweat beading her brow, grateful that she had no usable Ki. Her bedroom wall would have so many new windows otherwise.
She glanced at the luminescent face of the clock on her nightstand, groaning that it displayed half past three before she fell back onto her pillow. Why couldn't she have had another hour or two more? Even with the darkness behind the curtains of her bedroom windows there was no way she was going to fall asleep now. Not when the dreams left her too keyed up to go back to sleep.
Because they weren't dreams. They were nightmares only worse because they actually happened.
They were the Saiyan Vegeta's memories and the man didn't exactly have the easiest or happiest of childhoods. Somehow, she couldn't help but resent the knowledge that she accidentally gained. It made her feel guilty for hating him. Even if she had every right to hate the bastard for killing her friends and family, oh and for purging Earth too but hey, she wasn't exactly the poster child for altruism.
Ever since they met on that Planet Base he'd insulted her, threatened her, rough-handled her. And worst of all, through some weird twist of fate, he'd protected her and had given her the opportunity to save her world. But what goodwill that warranted him was rendered null and void when the voice she'd eventually come to acknowledge as her own unguarded feelings reminded her how Earth shouldn't have needed saving in the first place!
Kami but this whole thing was complicated.
So she fell back on something simpler and easier, like hating Zarbon. Him she could hate without worry or regret. The emerald-haired alien had started it all when he offered Earth's salvation in exchange for her technical know how. Then he tried to seduce her, played her for a fool, and when she realized she'd been tricked, she called him out on it. Only he'd- she grimaced at her own memory this time, ignoring the phantom pain of multiple compound fractures and ruptured organs, focusing instead on how she ended up building training equipment that honed the skills of heartless mercenaries and Soldiers like a certain Prince of Saiyans-
"Oh fuck it, here we go again," she muttered, pressing her hands against her face as her thoughts came full circle. That it was months since one of these dreams surfaced did give her some comfort. At least it meant her mind was gradually working through the Saiyan's memories and she wouldn't have to worry about suddenly adopting his odd mannerisms from out of nowhere.
She sighed in embarrassment at the recollection.
Using schematics she smuggled from the alien Planet Base, she recreated Ki-shields and roped her friends into helping her test them out. Krillin and Yamcha stuck to her instructions well enough but Goku being Goku went overboard and not only broke the prototype but disintegrated it by accident. She should have just laughed off seeing her oldest friend destroy her work. Except something about a Saiyan wrecking something she worked so hard on had touched an unexpectedly raw nerve.
She was never so glad that ChiChi kept Gohan home that day because she was swearing the air blue for about a good five minutes. Goku simply stared at her in confusion, which prompted even more cussing until Krillin coughed to hide his laughter and Yamcha asked if she needed a lozenge or a glass of water. Apparently she wasn't so much as cursing as growling and sounding like she'd swallowed a very angry bear that was now trying to claw its way out of her throat.
Realizing just what she'd been doing, she faked a coughing fit to divert their attention and sent the scarred fighter to fetch her something to drink. She could have explained that she'd been speaking Saiyan but that meant explaining how she managed to learn it. And she never wanted to go into the details of how exactly she'd saved Earth beyond "I got to planet Namek and they let me use their Dragon Balls."
Bulma was grateful her friends at the time didn't press her for more information. They didn't have to know what she went through, the deals she made, or the things she'd done to reach her goal. She was back home and she'd saved the day. Wasn't that what mattered?
Except Piccolo wasn't one of her friends. Not technically. Yes, he teamed up with Goku to fight off Radditz, and according to Krillin joined the rest of the Z Fighters when the Saiyans came. So maybe it was a little unfair for her to resent Piccolo for asking her how exactly she managed to get to Planet Namek. But pardon her for being a bit miffed that the alien doubted her abilities of getting shit done.
"Fine! I had to promise Vegeta he could have a wish on Earth's Dragon Balls." She glowered defensively at everyone, "I had no choice, okay? It was either that or I kiss any chance of saving you all goodbye."
"And how did you manage to be rid of him?"
"I used my feminine wiles on him." (Yamcha nearly choked on his own tongue.) "Okay! Bad joke, bad joke! He got his ass handed to him when we arrived at Planet Namek and while he was being healed, I may have, um, lied to him about the Namek's Dragon Balls being gone. And when we bailed for Earth, I left Vegeta behind to deal with Frieza."
"Who's Frieza?" Goku asked.
"A great evil," the Grand Elder interrupted. "But I feel that we needn't worry about him."
"Does that mean neither this Frieza nor Vegeta are gonna come to Earth?" Krillin grinned hopefully.
"Slack off if that appeals to you," Piccolo sneered, "I intend to train in preparation for their arrival."
Goku nodded, uncharacteristically grim, hands balling into tight fists, "We'll make up for losing to the Saiyans, one way or another. We won't let anything happen to Earth again!"
The Grand Elder had been kind enough to unlock the Z Fighters' hidden potential. Though both Bulma and Dende tensed when the Grand Elder mentioned that a mental barrier prevented Goku and Gohan from fully awakening.
"But they've, I mean, everyone's gotten a lot stronger, right?" the heiress hastily asked the Grand Elder, silently begging him not to say anything else.
"Relax, babe," Yamcha grinned, slinging an arm protectively around her shoulders and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I know you can't feel Ki but believe me when I say ours went up like crazy."
Bulma forced herself to smile back despite the guilt knotting in her gut. She felt a small hand give hers a reassuring squeeze. Looking down, she found Dende staring up at her solemnly.
"It's going to be okay, short stuff," she murmured to him. And if it wasn't, then by Kami she was going to find a way to make it okay.
Bulma could hardly believe it's been a year since the Nameks left for their new homeworld. Dende had offered to give her the coordinates to their new planet but she was adamant about maintaining her ignorance. In the end, the young Namek gave the information to Kami.
"Just in case," the child had smiled.
Her father had complained about how he'd lost the finest golf players he'd ever met. Her mother sadly remarked that Capsule Corp suddenly felt so empty but amended that it was, "Not as empty as when you first left, sweetie."
With a sigh, Bulma decided that since she was too awake to go back to sleep, she might as well do something productive. She got up, changed out of her pajamas, and headed for her private lab.
Elsewhere in the vast universe, there was begging, and bargaining, and threatening, though none of which seemed to matter to the figure sitting on a large throne seemingly carved out of petrified bone. The massive white seat, clearly meant for someone easily three times the stature of the current occupant, dwarfed the Saiyan. But he sat with his back ramrod straight, regal and unperturbed with the awkward difference in sizes. He stared impassive at the aliens gathered before him.
"Care to repeat that?" he asked calmly, turning one palm upward.
The gesture had the aliens shrinking back, save for the most vocal representative of the bunch: a brown-furred rodent.
"You heard me!" she squeaked, red beady eyes narrowed in defiance. "Frieza was a fool to disregard my people as mere cannon fodder or a viable food source! And you would be one too if that's all you intend to relegate us as. We can be so much more to the Planet Trade Organization!"
"As what, pray?" Vegeta's smirk suggested he used the word prey instead.
The rodent bristled, nose twitching at the threat and insult, but she stood her ground. "As technicians! It's no secret that warriors are welcomed by the droves but how many of them can fully utilize their equipment?"
"The organization isn't interested in wasting resources just so the weak can live," the Saiyan scoffed. "If a warrior or mercenary were to fall in battle due to their own incompetence then they deserved to die."
"Then what of your ships and medical instruments? Are they operating at their optimum efficiency? My people's dexterity and knack with constructs should more than make up for our lack of physical strength. Give us a chance to prove ourselves! Or are you just as blind and ignorant as Frieza was?"
A Ki sphere suddenly formed in Vegeta's hand and all but the rodent alien scattered to take cover behind a pillar. Over a year ago, being compared to his hated nemesis would have resulted in him letting loose the concentrated energy without a second thought. But after attaining his destiny of ascension, slaying Frieza with his own hands, and becoming the current leader of the PTO, the Saiyan Prince developed some level of restraint. And though he would deny it to hell and back, the rodent's courage reminded him of a certain blue-haired Earthling.
But before his thoughts could dwell on the woman, the lanky four-eyed Bas standing to his right coughed, "Shall I reschedule your meeting with King Cold?"
"That won't be necessary, Jerold. This audience will be over soon," the Saiyan answered as he snuffed out the sphere. He fixed his attention back to the rat-like alien, "You got nerve making such a statement so I will grant your planet a stay of execution. If you can prove you're not simply overestimating your abilities or lying through your teeth, I might be willing to spare your pitiful world."
The remaining representatives emerged from behind their hiding places, talking all at once to try and plead for their homes. Vegeta silenced them with a look, his eyes hard and unimpressed, "Don't waste my time begging for mercy. Swearing fealty to me means nothing unless you give me a reason not to have your world purged."
And he listened carefully, was completely stoic while he contemplated their offered skill sets, equally expressionless when he meted out his decision. Wails of despair echoed in the audience room as guards forcibly escorted the representatives into an antechamber. There, an avian alien was waiting with a list of planets willing to house refugees, albeit with rather unfair stipulations that usually meant becoming slave labor. Some might argue that the alternative of certain extinction was the lesser of two evils, but at least they were given a choice. It was more than what they would have gotten under Frieza's rule.
Restructuring the PTO took longer than Vegeta anticipated, acclimating to the less physical aspects of the organization forced him to remain on planet Tsiru for more than a year. The planet was large but its sun was small and cast a pale light that made the landscape look as if it existed in a state of perpetual winter. It made the Saiyan long for warmer climes and brighter panoramas.
And with the populace weaker than the former ruling house, Vegeta's training options were severely limited. Especially when it turned out that none of Cold's progeny had ever bothered to train or hone their fighting skills. That the Tsirunian royal family mostly owed their monstrous strength to mutations in their genes both appalled and infuriated the Saiyan Prince whenever he itched for a proper spar.
He definitely saw the appeal of delegating these sorts of responsibilities to Cold as Frieza had done, to take a ship and fly off elsewhere to purge worlds or quell rebellions. But Vegeta had more discipline than that. Besides, now and again, something interesting would happen. Attempts on his life for example.
Vegeta was surprised that he arrived at planet Tsiru without incident. He'd sent word to King Cold that he was on his way to discuss the current structure of the Planet Trade Organization and had expected Frieza's father would try to shoot the battle cruiser down. Or make an attempt to take him prisoner upon landing. Or show some form of hostility.
But the Tsirunian was waiting for him with open arms and an ostentatious display in the docking bay, complete with showers of confetti, their bright colors a stark contrast to the sterile hues of planet Tsiru. A row of royal guards lined the path leading to where Cold waited and as soon as the battle cruiser's engines shut off, a red carpet was rolled out.
The Saiyan didn't doubt the fanfare was meant to lull him into a false sense of security. Vegeta never had the opportunity to meet the Tsirunian King before, but Cold was Frieza's father and therefore could not be trusted.
"Welcome, Vegeta," Cold greeted as the Saiyan alighted from the battle cruiser and began walking down the long red carpet. "I trust your journey was a restful one?"
"It was acceptable," he answered, eyes narrowed in suspicion at the towering, horned alien.
"I've taken the liberty of preparing a feast for your arrival. We have much to discuss," Cold smiled.
Vegeta was led to a great hall where the aforementioned feast awaited. Ever cautious, he made certain someone else sampled the food before taking a generous portion, much to Cold's amusement.
"Fret not, Saiyan, I bear you no ill-will for killing my son. In fact I'm thankful you managed to eliminate him!"
Wordlessly Vegeta began to eat, though he was suspicious at the declaration of gratitude. He'd heard that Frieza was the favored son. But there were also rumors that Cold was terrified of his children's monstrous strength and this display certainly suggested they weren't entirely baseless.
"Don't think for a moment I won't hesitate on dealing you the same fate, old one," Vegeta warned.
Cold's eye twitched slightly but the pleasant smile never faltered. "Of course, of course, the strong do deserve to survive but you should consider including the wise to that list. My son kept me alive for a reason and I can assure you it was not out of filial piety."
The Saiyan sensed the approach of five large Ki signatures but made no indication of his awareness. Instead, he glowered, "Cut to the chase, old one, what can you possibly offer me that I should spare your worthless life?"
"Impatient are we? Very well then, I manage the day to day affairs of the Planet Trade Organization while my sons handled the fun jobs, such as acquisitions and ridding the organization of dead ends," Cold explained with a wry smirk. "Sitting in audience chambers, presiding over diplomatic disputes between clients, looking over contracts before signing them, such tasks would not fit someone of your strength and battle prowess."
"In other words you think I'm merely an uneducated brute and you don't believe I am capable of ruling as a proper King," Vegeta translated, his Ki flaring just as the doors to the great hall burst open with excessive aplomb.
Both Cold and Vegeta turned in surprise, not so much at the sudden arrival but because of the accompanying fanfare that continued playing long after five aliens entered.
"Pre-sen-ting!" a voice boomed in time to the music, signaling the aliens to shift into a series of poses and bark out their names in precise cadence. They ended with a tableau and simultaneously declaring "The Ginyu Force!" to an audience stunned into silence.
The Tsirunian royal was first to recover and began to applaud, "Bravo, Captain Ginyu! Your choreography is even more impressive than when I last saw them!"
"You honor me, King Cold," Ginyu bowed with a flourish while his team behind him took a knee in respect. The purple alien gave a smirk and suddenly launched himself forward, drawing his arm back to strike, only to be impaled through the chest in midair by a small, gloved fist.
"C-Captain Ginyu!" the rest of the squad gasped. In the next instant, energy exploded, spraying the great hall with a fine azure mist and opening up the position of squad leader.
"Is this it?" Vegeta sneered, letting out a pulse of Ki to clean his hand of Ginyu's blood. "And here I heard Captain Ginyu was quite the powerful fighter and feared throughout the galaxy. Is your ridiculous poses the real source of terror?"
The remaining members of the special task force could only gawp in disbelief, until the red-skinned Brench turned his gaze towards Cold, "Your Majesty what-" the rest of his words were cut off by the ferocious glower the Tsirunian leveled at him.
Cold seethed in his seat for but an instant before he was once again all pleasant smiles and gracious host. "What an incredible display of strength! It truly is no wonder that you were able to kill Frieza."
It was almost sad, Vegeta mused, how desperate Cold was to throw suspicion off of him. The old lizard must truly think the Prince of Saiyans was an ignorant muscle-brained idiot. It was sorely tempting to burn a hole right into Cold's smug face, but that would only prove the senior tyrant correct. As loath as Vegeta was to admit it, with acquisitions and purging missions the extent of his experience, there were aspects to the PTO that he had never been privy to. He'll play along and spare Cold but only as long as it took to adjust the PTO to his liking.
As for the rest of the Ginyu Force, the Saiyan gave them his full attention and a sinister grin.
It was disappointing that none of them dared to challenge him but after his brief demonstration of power, Vegeta supposed it couldn't be helped. He'd assigned them a mission, something that struck at their reputation rather than at their lives. That their efforts have proven fruitless the past year came as no surprise to Vegeta.
He knew he ought to forget about old debts being repaid but his pride wouldn't let him. Not when he remembered her slim arms propping him onto his feet and her audacity to pull him back from the threshold of death as if she expected nothing in return.
The search was for his sake, not hers.
And in the interim, he had other things to keep him preoccupied. Take now, for instance, when he was about to deal with Cold. The elder Tsirunian strode into the audience chamber without his usual handful of bodyguards, either as a show of trust or a ruse to get Vegeta to lower his defenses. Somehow, the Saiyan doubted it was the former.
"How kind of you to see me on such short notice," Cold gave a practiced smile and a bow.
"You said it was urgent. Have any of the older clients been giving you trouble?"
"Oh no, they're quite amicable with the organization's current standing and I'm certain they will continue to be even after you accept my proposal." Despite Vegeta narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Cold went on, "Since your arrival on planet Tsiru, I've transitioned from monarch and absolute ruler to a mere figure head."
And here the Saiyan interrupted with a sneer, "No less than when Frieza was alive."
Cold ignored the dig, "I have decided that it would be best that I abdicate my throne. My people are accustomed to having a strong ruler and I can think of no one stronger and more fitting to become King of Tsiru than you. After all, with Planet Vegeta gone, where else would you rule?"
The destruction of his homeworld, so casually mentioned, had the Saiyan Prince's temper flare and black hate stir in his breast. He may have gotten his revenge on the Tsirunian who destroyed his world but old grudges died hard and he refused to be tied down to the wretched planet that spawned Frieza. He would sooner destroy Tsiru than take up permanent residence here.
"What you do with your title is none of my concern. The worlds under Frieza's control have already acknowledged me and I have added more to that number. When I ascend the throne to become King, it will not be on this frozen wasteland."
"But Vegeta-"
"This meeting is over. Leave now before I throw you out myself," Vegeta snarled out with every ounce of restraint he could muster. And as he watched Cold's retreating figure, the Saiyan decided it was time he stepped up with his plans.
In her private laboratory, Bulma tried to clear her mind and focus on her personal project, which to her disappointment wasn't progressing as fast as she would have liked.
Oh sure, she had all that alien alloy from the spacecraft she'd built and used to get to planet Namek. And even after the designs for the ship's hyper-engines were adjusted to fit Earth's level of technology, they were still powerful enough to impress her father. In fact, they used the designs in the newest models of air-cars, which got the media off her back about her "sabbatical" and made Capsule Corp even richer and more influential in one fell swoop.
And she'd managed to reverse engineer the Ki-dampening collars, recreate blueprints for cloaking devices, and even managed to launch a surveillance satellite system while juggling her Capsule Corp responsibilities. She'd been a busy heiress the past year and a half since Earth was revived.
But spending nearly a year and a half on an alien Planet Base had in some ways spoiled her. She knew what she wanted to work on but she didn't have the necessary materials for optimized construction. The problem wasn't a lack of resources but a lack of the best resources. Despite being run ragged and at the beck and call of a certain Saiyan, the Planet Base had a wider selection of tools, a massive inventory available to the higher-ranked engineers, and she was surrounded by some of the most brilliant minds in the universe.
She was sure if she could just bounce ideas off of the right people, she'd find a workaround with the energy issue she was having with her latest prototype. The heiress had asked her father, but Dr. Briefs hadn't been too keen on building weapons and it left her at square one. Oh there were undoubtedly other brilliant people on Earth who could ferret out a solution, but the fewer people who knew about her little safety measure, the better. She'd already cannibalized the Ki-dampening collars' fuel source but the synthesized materials and Earth-found substitutes weren't cutting it. As it was, only her Ki-nullifying gun had its original power cells intact and she wasn't going to touch that. Partly out of sentimental value because it had saved her ass on more than one occasion, but mostly out of necessity because paranoia was a hard thing to shake off.
Just before she returned home, Bulma had done everything she could to hide Earth from the Planet Trade Organization. She'd changed her world's coordinates in their database, modified the records to show the planet was purged and no longer had any inherent worth. Short of deleting all mention of Earth (and planet Namek) it was the best she could manage without drawing suspicion.
Still, she couldn't let her guard down, couldn't relax and believe her planet truly was safe because some part of her inexplicably knew he was still out there. Was he searching for her or the Nameks? Or had he forgotten all about them? It was probably the latter because what more could he possibly want?
But again, paranoia was a hard thing to shake off. So she was going to concentrate on making this work. She'd gotten into the zone and irritably glanced up when someone began knocking at the door. The last person she expected to find on the other side was Yamcha, especially since, well, it was over between them.
Maybe it had been over for years and she just didn't want to admit it. But they tried to make it work anyway, during the first few months after Earth's resurrection. She clung to what had been her teenage notions of love and romance. He tried to pick up where they'd left off and reconcile their differences. And at first it seemed to work. Yamcha was affectionate and attentive but it eventually felt smothering rather than sweet, like he was desperate to make up for allowing Zarbon to take her. Never mind that it had been Bulma's decision to leave. She, in response, was less demanding but it also made her more distant.
The familiarity between them was gone and what they had instead was tense and awkward. She never admitted to Yamcha how rarely she thought of him while she was on the Planet Base. He never asked about what had happened to her there, apparently eager to bury the past and start anew.
Sometimes, Bulma tried to open up, but whenever she thought she could finally tell him the whole story, the words died in her throat. Maybe if he'd pressed her a little harder she might have told him everything. But he didn't, probably under the notion of being supportive and patient, or probably because he was afraid of what he'd hear.
The moment kept slipping farther and farther out of reach until it was too late.
In the end, she broke it off with him permanently. She'd been hoping he'd be relieved but it seemed to have blind-sided him. Kami, the look on his face, the pain twisting his scarred features was worse than when Nappa had crushed his heart. It made her want to take it back, to pretend it was a really terrible, awful prank, except she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him. She cared for him, loved him even, but it wasn't the same sort of love she once had for him. They'd changed too much and they couldn't give each other what they wanted or needed.
It took him moving out of Capsule Corporation and several, long, awkward months apart before they could become friends again. He'd cut his hair short and went back to wearing his orange gi. It made Bulma liken him to a rom-com heroine, and she giggled picturing him going through a moving-on make-over montage. The tension between them eventually faded away, replaced by a comfortable understanding, though there were still times when she wondered What If?
But that still didn't explain what Yamcha was doing knocking at her laboratory door this early in the morning. A glance at the clock revealed that it was not quite morning insomuch as a quarter to noon. "Holy shit it's that time already!?" she gasped, opening the door and snapping angrily, "Why didn't you call me sooner?"
"I tried!" He countered with a frown, holding up his phone with her number flashing on the screen. "You weren't picking up."
Belatedly did Bulma realize that she'd left her phone in her bedroom. "Shit, sorry," she said, running her fingers through her aqua hair in frustration. "Why didn't you just get momma or poppa to call me?"
"Your mother's busy in the kitchen and your dad's working on some huge machine," he shrugged, tucking his phone back into a pocket.
"Don't tell me Goku's already polished off most of the food," she smirked as she locked up her lab.
"Alright, I won't," Yamcha said. He chuckled as she gave him a playful swat on the shoulder. "Hey, don't sweat it, Piccolo's got him handled and besides, ChiChi said she'll be here in ten minutes."
"Which is like ten years to Goku when he's hungry," the heiress laughed.
Out of habit, they fell in step with each other, each pretending that they didn't notice their easy gait as they made their way towards Capsule Corporation's large atrium where the rest of the Z Fighters were waiting. Oolong, Puar, Master Roshi, even Yajirobe (who Bulma was pretty sure wasn't invited) had shown up. But getting the less sociable members of the group to make an appearance had been no easy feat. Thank Kami for Chiaotzu knowing what to say to get Tien to leave their isolated home and not even Piccolo could deny ChiChi's demands whenever Gohan was involved.
As Yamcha said, Goku was behaving himself around the generous spread of food, less because of Krillin's constant reminders to wait for their guest of honor and more because it gave Piccolo an excuse to knock him down. It wasn't long until there came the rumble of an approaching air-car and everyone went along with hiding and masking their Ki.
Ox King's voice boomed as he theatrically asked Gohan to go ahead and let Bulma know they've arrived. When the demi-Saiyan opened the atrium doors, there was a collective cheer of "Happy Birthday Son Gohan!" and clapping. The succeeding declaration that lunch was finally served got an even louder cheer especially from the Sons, but Bulma was not surprised in the least.
What did surprise Bulma was how, just after Bunny wheeled in a monster of a birthday cake, an alarm suddenly blared throughout the compound. The Z Fighters went silent in concern but the heiress jerked her head up at the sound. Without another word, she was out of the atrium like a shot, ignoring the calls from her friends as she headed for her laboratory in a dead run.
"No, no, no, no," she chanted, hoping against hope that whatever had caused the alarm was just a glitch or that she'd somehow forgotten to reset some parameters. Trembling hands unlocked the door and fingers rapidly typed at the console. But it wasn't a glitch nor was it a test. What the monitor showed was real.
And what the monitor showed were one-man pods breaking into the Earth's atmosphere.
Author's Notes: Yes, Play Along / Play Fair is a sequel so it might be best to have read Play Nice first but I hope I've established enough things that new readers won't be completely lost. I wasn't certain I'd write this fic until I saw the prompts from the Unnatural Lovers Royal challenge. Thank you so much to jennifer975 for recommending Play Nice to the We're Just Saiyan community and for all your lovely reviews! Thank you to my Ideas Taster for letting me word-vomit at them and for naming the Bas OC.
