Hello everyone. Welcome to my new project, Last of Me. This story was a was inspired by the rush of new Dragon Ball Z/Super media that's been released this past year. I loved the two recent movies, the Xenoverse video game, as well as the abridged series by Team 4 Star. It was a lot of fun revisiting the series after so long, and I'm really having a lot of fun with this story as well.

Last of Me takes place thousands of years before the events of DB/Z/Super. This is a completely original story with an entirely original cast. This will be a story of the Saiyans, an examination of their culture and customs. Action will be rather light in the first half, and it will more resemble Period Dramas like Gou - Himetachi no Sengoku or Downton Abbey, than anything from the shonen genre from which the original defined. It might not be for everyone, but I wouldn't post something without substance. I feel like there's a lot to enjoy here.

Before I begin, I must share what was my biggest inspiration for starting Last of Me. It was actually a song of the same name that I found online. After hearing it once I absolutely fell in love with it and listened to it over and over again. It's easy enough to dig up, so I'll keep from telling you exactly where to find it. Give it a listen because it truly is a wonderful song, even if the story inspired by it turn out to be total crap (lol).

Anyway, without further ado~


Act 1

The Great Tribe Meeting


For the past several minutes, Maize has been busy wiping down her furniture and tidying up. Even though she keeps her home immaculate, upon feeling that guests were coming she'd been in a tizzy. All matter of speck and dust were eliminated, plants rotated on windowsills, and she boiled water for tea. In the little time it takes her to accomplish that, she then turns to herself. There wasn't anything she could do about her clothes in the time allowed (not that her normal attire wasn't stylish and sleek), but she did spend a number of minutes on her hair. To the point of obsession she combed her long black hair so there wasn't a single strand out of place or split end, but also her tail so it had a golden sheen. All of which was done with such precision, it was all accomplished with her eyes closed.

With her guests finally arriving at the front door, Maize opens before they even have a chance to knock.

"Hello Dekkon, Mellen."

The man, Dekkon, is a very fit male in traditional tribal robes with exposed arms and half chest, leaps when surprised like that.

Laughing a bit at himself, "I can never get used to that."

The female to his side, Mellen, is buxom with roundish proportions and a motherly aura, giggles at the male's reaction, "Maize is always full of surprises. Even though her eyes don't work, it's like she can see everything anyways."

Blushing very faintly, "It's not like that at all. My other senses just take over for what my eyes don't. I still trip and bump into stuff all the time."

Maize did not keep her eyes closed in some kind of display of greater ability, but because there was no reason to do the opposite. Unlike her two guests with black irises, and the rest of the Saiyan race, Maize's are opaque, resembling a shade of silver.

"Come in. I've been expecting you."

As Maize leads the pair to their seats, the tea is just about boiled. Deftly the blind woman traverses her kitchen and approaches the stove. Showing not a wasted movement, she takes a pair of mittens and takes the hot kettle. There should be a handle on the hot container, but it appears to have snapped off at some point. Still, the woman carries herself superbly despite her handicap.

"Here you go," she hands her guests a pair of cups.

"Thank you Maize!" shouts Mellen in an overjoyed manner, while Dekkon is hesitant to drink anything that doesn't contain alcohol.

"So," Maize takes a seat across from them at her table, "what brings the both of you to come visit me?"

If Maizes eyes worked, she'd see Mellen stiffen.

"In three day's time there's going to be a meeting between us and the Sorr Tribe, and we'd like you to attend."

Certainly was this a situation Maize didn't consider. If anything she was expecting to be asked to babysit for a number of days. As Dekkon is their Tort Tribe's leader, the situation's arose more than a time or two. She didn't even know about the meeting, rather than being invited.

"I'm not certain what use I could be."

"You only need to attend. Several others will be there too. It's a, show of numbers sort of deal."

"'Show of numbers?'"

"Don't worry!" Mellen takes over for her husband's too straightforward manner of speech. "It's a peaceful gathering! We just want people there as a show of courtesy."

Maize still doesn't think this is the sort of affair suitable for her, but the two of them did come all the way out here to see her.

"As long as I don't have to really do anything..." she still isn't sure of herself.

"Wonderful!" Mellen claps her hands. "Trust me, all you'll have to do is sit there. And you won't be alone either. It might feel like we're putting you on display, but it won't be so bad because so many others will be as well. You can share the embarrassment."

That wasn't exactly why Maize was unsure, but what did she mean by "embarrass?"

"Good," Dekkon stands from his chair, "then that is all."

"Wait up honey!" his wife reaches for him. Maize also flinched when Dekkon suddenly announced he'd leave, but nobody else caught it. "We can at least chat a bit!"

"You can stay behind if you want, but I still have business to attend to."

And just as he said, Dekkon leaves.

Place a hand on her cheek, Mellen sighs, "What am I going to do with him?"

To ease her friend's worried expression, "Dekkon is the tribe's chief after all," doing well to mask her disappointment. "He's busy. I'm just glad he actually came down to see me."

Now that scold has been turned on Maize, "You're too submissive! Just because you're blind doesn't mean you have to seclude yourself like a hermit! You should come and live in the village with the rest of us! We won't chase you out with torches and pitchforks!"

For as long as they've been friends, this pair has had this same argument countless times over.

"It's too noisy in the village. I like this forest just fine."

Puffing cheeks and hands on her hips, "You know what some of the children call you? They call you the Witch of the Forest."

This is certainly news to her, "'Witch of the Forest?'"

"It's because you never come to the village and you never leave this hut!"

Maize complains, "I leave the hut."

"That's not the point!" stomping her feet. "You never socialize! People forget who you are! They treat you like a mythical creature! That's the reason you can't-!" but then catches herself and stifles her own mouth.

Perhaps what was about to be said was something to take great offense to, but Maize only smiles solemnly.

"We both know the reason they treat me the way they do isn't because I don't get out enough. If something were to happen, and we needed to defend ourselves, nobody wants to be burdened by a pathetic female who can't even change into the Oozaru on the full moon. At this point, my tail is only a decoration. I'm Saiyan in name only."

"That's not true! It's, just," but can't find words to retort.

A placed on Mellen's shoulder causes her whole body to shiver. She finds her friend smiling at her.

"It's fine. It really is. I'll come to the tribe meeting and play the part."

Mellen goes through a hurricane of emotions. First it's sad, then melancholic, then angry.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore!" she selfishly shouts, panging the hypersensitive ears of the blind woman. "How are you doing out here? Have you been fine? Anything going on?"

Rubbing her almost punctured eardrums, "Nothing much. But I did find a new species of flower I hadn't before in the forest. I've been experimenting with new types of perfumes and shampoos."

Eyes widen and sparkle, "Really? That's great! Dekkon never really went for softer, fluffier hair, but my kids love em! I can't wait to try our your new recipes!"

Giggling herself, "As always my trial products are free, but if it works out my prices are rather high."

Matching the good humor, "You always give me my money's worth!"


"I don't see why we don't just kill all the men and take their women."

"If it were that simple then everybody would be doing it," the croakish voice responds. "It's called 'diplomacy.' It means winning a fight without actually fighting."

The large male speaking with the one with a frog-like voice leans against the table and props his cheek against a hand, "But fighting's all the fun."

Sighing, "It's not all the fun. Females are fun too."

"But I already have a mate. Between the two, fighting is more fun."

Enraged, "You're only speaking for yourself! Not all of us have females! That's the problem in the first place!"

This pair sits in a largely empty bar. Normally, even at this morning hour, it's filled with rowdy patrons drinking to start their day. Today, regular on occasion, it's been cleared for these two men save the barkeep. Beams of light from the rising sun dawn upon the leaders of the Sorr Tribe through the large open-air windows.

"Squeesh, just take one of ours," the big one suggests.

"There aren't any Umpkin!" Squeesh croaks.

"Then just fight and take some."

"The men don't want to fight anymore because they don't have any heirs! How many times do I have to point this out to you?"

The large one doesn't seem to take any concern with Squeesh's raised voice, instead looking increasingly disinterested by the moment.

"I'll just let you take care of it."

Finally the smaller frog-like Saiyan can breathe again, "Yes, I've already completed most of the necessities. All we need to do now is go and make it official."

"You take care of it."

And Squeesh was so close to being able to relax again, "If I could I would have just done this all on my own. I need you to come with me and meet their chief."

Playing with his now empty cup, "Which tribe is it again?"

"(tort)"

"What?" obviously he couldn't hear.

Sighing, "It's the Tort Tribe."

"Tort?" then thinking. "Oh! Isn't Dekkon their leader?"

Knowing full well where this is going, Squeesh face palms to preempt the headache, "Yes."

"I like fighting Dekkon! We should fight him! I'll do it one on one, and the winner gets the women!"

"Why would he ever agree to that? The women are already in his tribe."

It takes a few moments more for Umpkin to realize, "Oh, that's right." Only now genuinely curious, "Why would he agree to the deal anyway?"

"Well, think about it. If our males are marrying their females, then isn't it like our tribe is marrying their tribe? We're basically merging and becoming brothers-in-law."

This does not compute.

"We're going to be allies," Squeesh further explains. "We're not going to fight against each other anymore."

Then, seemingly heartbroken, "But, but, I like fighting Dekkon."

Shrugging his shoulders, "He might agree to a spar, but other than that we'll only be fighting together from now on, not against each other."

Umpkin, slamming his hands against the table, "But I like fighting Dekkon!"

Feeling the anger rising from his companion, Squeesh begins sweating a little, "Calm down. Just think of it this way." Leaning in closer, Umpkin doing the same, "If our tribes join, they'll be bigger. If we're bigger, we can fight even larger tribes. We can challenge people even stronger than Dekkon."

The large man's eyes go wide and even sparkle, "Oh! That's right! I haven't been everywhere. Maybe there are people stronger than Dekkon further away." Wrapping an arm over his friend's shoulder in a half hug, "Squeesh, you're so smart! That's why you're my tactician! Together, we'll fight all over Saiya!"

Hearing the mention of World Conquest and impossible dreams, Squeesh adverts his eyes, "Ah, yeah."

Of course the "tactician" knows Dekkon would never go for that. This deal is going to brokerage several years, if not decades, of peace. But he couldn't tell Umpkin, the Sorr's Tribe leader this. If he did, the deal would never go through and they'd likely be wiped out by the next generation. Lying can put off the problem of their leader's one-track personality for somewhere down the line, but it'll have to be addressed one way or another eventually. For now, all the tactician can do is use honeyed words and false promises.

"So I can count on you to come with me tomorrow?" Squeesh feels guilty asking.

"Sure! I'll be there with barbs on!"

"It's bells," Squeesh corrects, speaking under his breath so his leader not hear.


Carefully lead by the hand, Maize leans on Mellen's shoulder. They carefully navigate through the narrow hall littered with dolls, clothes, and whatever other objects left lying on the floor by the children.

"It's so rare you actually come to the village!" Mellen squeals.

"Well, there was something I should have asked while you were at my house yesterday and I forgot. I didn't have a choice but to come down."

Leading Maize to sit at the table, Mellen likewise takes a seat, "What is it?"

Seeming hesitant, the blind female's head downturns while slightly blushing, "Well, I need a working pair of eyes. It'll be a public gathering, right? It's time I buy some new robes."

Processing the entirety of her friend's request, Mellen's spirit gradually inflates.

"Does that mean, you're asking me to go shopping with you?"

"Hmm."

Clapping hands, and startling the one with hypersensitive hearing in the process, "That's fantastic! We can leave-"

Just then a scamper of feet rush into the sitting area. Two girls below the age of 10 chase one after another. Screaming, they're fighting about something or another.

"Cele! Lea!" taking a tone which was far from the jovial of only moments prior. "We have a guest! What have I said about having company!"

Terrorized by the sudden onset of bloodlust, the young girls immediately stand at military attention and hold just like that.

"Now, turn around, pick up all that junk in the hall, go to your rooms, and be quiet!"

And like good little soldiers, they do as ordered.

Sighing, Maize then hears a tone from the merry mother she hadn't in years, "Kids; they're absolutely wonderful."

Giggling quietly to herself, a genuinely warm smile on her face, "Yes, they certainly are."

Smirking, not that Maize would ever see it, Mellen nearly mocks her friend's ignorance, "Well, why don't we-"

But is halted by Maize's raised finger to her lips. Turning to the hall where the girls had previously vacated, "Can I help you, young warrior?"

Upon being called out, the figure hidden, so quiet even the mother didn't notice, a young boy sheepishly paces from his hiding place. Hands held together, face down turned, cheeks blush, is a child maybe 4 or 5.

Fidgeting, he stands there silent.

Mellen's about to tell the next family heir to go back to his room, but knows Maize is up to something. The mother want's to know what her friend is planning.

"Tomoto, do you want to join us?"

Instead of speaking, the boy shyly nods, ears now turning red. Pittering and pattering his little feet, Tomoto comes to Maize's side. As he does, the woman takes the boy and places him on her thigh. Once there, he nestles up against her bosom like a cat returning to his favorite spot to nap.

"Oh dear," Mellen exclaims, "quiet the lady killer that one. I might have something to worry about when he gets older."

Maize gently rocks back and forth in the chair, "It's not that. He just remembers when I used to hold him like this when he was a baby."

"He does love it when you babysit. He doesn't even cuddle up to his own mother like that anymore."

For a moment Maize cracks a grin, "Not everyone likes a lumpy mattress. Some people prefer it to be a little more firm."

For a god-honest moment, Melen contemplates throwing a fork at her friend.

"We still have another day before the meeting," the homeowner detracts. "We could go to the markets tomorrow if you so like."

Rubbing Tomoto's hair, his own eyes dozing off to sleep, "I'd like to get it done today if we can. But if you're too busy with the kids it can wait."

Mellen thinks about it for a second, "Well, I'd hate to ask my sister-in-law to watch them again after I dropped them on her yesterday, so if you don't mind them tagging along we can go right now."

The blind woman smiles, "I don't mind. Maybe I could treat them to a candy or something later."

"Please, nothing with sugar."


"So, is it true? Is it true?"

Squeesh had been drowning his anxieties at the bar when one of the younger elites rushed him. He'd like to tell the kid to buzz off, but he possesses just enough rank that the tactician can't simply do that.

"What are you talking about?" as if it could be anything other than that.

"That we're getting females. Females!" he almost can't keep it in his pants.

'Getting females' is oversimplifying it to the point of absurdity, but the specifics likely don't matter to the eager beaver.

"We are entering into an alliance with the Tort Tribe, and a part of the agreement involves cohabitation. There is no-"

"Wahoooo!" Jumping onto his chair, the elite speaks to the other patrons. "Did you hear that? Squeesh got us females!"

This could turn very bad very quick. The shorter male reaches up and pulls down the younger one.

"Would you shut up!" he threatens in a hushed voice. "It's not official until the meeting tomorrow! Don't get everybody's hopes up!"

It wasn't exactly a secret, but it was also far from a done deal. There were several reasons The Sorr Tribe's tactician didn't want to go public with this information. One, it could all go south if tomorrow proceeds unexpectedly. Two, there's no guarantee all the males will be married off. It's not going to be a farmers market where Sorr's males could simple pick one and that was that. Cohabitation meant consent was required by the female. As their tribes have been at battle for Umpkin's tenure as leader, it's understandable some of the females might hold reservations.

"Yeah, sure," the kid seems to dismiss his superior's words.

Not taking anymore of this disrespect, Squeesh grabs the boy by the collar and pulls him close, "Listen, fresh meat, there's no guarantee this pact will go through, and if it doesn't, we'll have a riot if some idiot said it was a done deal when it wasn't."

Eyes bulging from lax of oxygen to the brain, he looks a lot like a fish. Disgusted with the whole affair, Squeesh tosses the youth aside and disregards as he rolls across the barroom floor. While they might not have known the exact context of the argument, it's gone largely ignored as the remaining Saiyans merely continue to get drunk and likewise fight with each other.

"Tsk," Squeesh clicks his tongue.

There are a few eyes on him. A few managed to overhear the kid's outburst and are now sizing the "tactician" up.

"I'm tired of being surrounded by idiots," Squeesh pays the tab and leaves.

Squeesh truly hates his position-no, hates those who can't understand the importance of his position. Saiya is a barbaric world; governed by the excessive use of force. It's people are likewise brutal, solving practically all it's problems by fighting and killing. Umpkin's rational isn't exactly rare, and if not for those rare few like Squeesh, the Saiyans would be nothing more than animals. But the worst of it is, the rest can't appreciate the contribution a tactician makes.

"It's better to be lucky than smart," Squeesh laments.

How exactly did it get to the point where there became a shortage of females? Drink, fight, make babies; that's the Saiyan race in a nutshell. So how exactly did the ratio become so skewed their Sorr Tribe could no longer stand on it's own? Squeesh didn't have the answer, but did a solution. If the Sorr couldn't stand on it's own, it would ask Tort for help.

Invading another tribe was indeed a solution, but if the kidnapping failed they would be spiraling on a path towards destruction. That's why Squeesh chose to branch out. That's why Squeesh had to make the decision to branch out. If not, their stupid little tribe would destroy itself. He might not receive any recognition, but it was a hard decision that had to be made. As long as the tribe survives he should be happy, but,

"I really want a mate," he says while kicking a pebble on his way home.

Even if he was a tactician, a Saiyan who thinks before he acts, he's still a warrior. He realizes fast he's being followed. There's three of them. Is it that boy and his posse? Maybe. Looking for revenge? Normally Squeesh isn't against throwing down in a stupid street brawl, but he's weary being this close to the Tribe Meeting. One of those stupid Saiyans likely hatched a stupid plan.

"What do you want?" Squeesh speaks while looking over his shoulder, not in the mood to put up with games.

Indeed it was that elite youth from before, and two of his knuckle dragging friends. They break from their current bush and meet him in the path. Indeed, this is going to turn ugly.

"Hey, Squeesh, don't be so unfair."

So is this not about the disrespect in the bar?

"You're going tomorrow to the Tort Tribe with chief, right?"

He declines to comment.

"Don't you think it's a bit, bias, to be the only one going with Chief Umpkin?"

That's not the correct usage of the word, but whatever.

"It will be an official ceremony. If we arrive in a giant mob, it wouldn't look so good to the Tort Tribe. Umpkin and I are going as the bare necessity."

The kid walks over and puts a hand on the tactician's shoulder, "I'm not saying the entire tribe go, but don't you think it wouldn't be unreasonable for a few bodyguards to escort our leader?"

The position of Tribe Leader is chosen from the strongest in the village. The very notion that Umpkin needs a bodyguard is flawed on it's premise.

"Umpkin can manage on his own."

"Yes, he could, but what if something happened to you? What would happen to the deal if something happened to our great tactician?"

His two buddies laugh at the last part.

"The deal would fall apart. If the one who brokered it wasn't present or was killed, it'd be seen as weakness on our part. The Tort want a strong ally in exchange for some females. If we appear we're already falling apart, they might just take the opportunity to kill Umpkin."

Squeesh didn't want to admit it, but he told the absolute truth. He knows full well where this is going, which is why he doesn't want to relent any of his standing in their favor.

"See, it's dangerous. It's better to travel in at least a small group. So that's why myself, and my two buddies, volunteered to protect you. We too want to work as emissaries of peace."

Normally Squeesh would praise the boy's wit, but there is a danger in his ulterior motives. Sorr's is the position of weakness, nor Tort's. It is Tort's prerogative to disagree.

"I can take care of myself just fine."

This continued refusal isn't going too well with the boys.

"Hmmm, I don't know. You might be the tactician, the second in command, but that doesn't mean you're the second strongest. Let's say you were jumped by three Tort upstarts who don't want you to lay a hand on their females. How would you manage?"

And so, it's come down to this in the end.

"I think I would manage something like this!"

And Squeesh throws himself at the three elites.

Regardless of the outcome of the brawl, Squeesh, with a battered face, finds his leader with four individuals as they prepare to set off the next morning.

"Hey, Squeesh, I told my boys here about us getting some females, and they wanted to come along to see them."

Squeesh really hates idiots.


Maize was worried over her recent actions. May she be so bold, the blind female would say she's was actually getting excited, and looking forward to the Tribe Meeting. Why would that be? A chance to appear in public? A chance to act for the good of the tribe and be a part of the community? Maybe, but that's all the more reason she shouldn't be doing this; getting her hopes up. There's a very good reason she's isolated. There's a reason she needs to be in solitude. Has she been alone for so long she simply forgot?

But such thoughts are forced to the back of her mind. She spent all night working on the fabric purchased yesterday, and now it's finally complete. Even if she is blind, she'd be able to make such a purchase on her own. What she couldn't do on her own was make a decision based on color and appeal. As far as she's concerned, color is an abstract concept that would never really effect her. Despite how well she might sew, the whole effort would be wasted if the arrangement was painful to the eyes. For that she definitely needed the opinion of her (only) friend.

She'd lost track of time until feeling the warmth of sunrise an hour ago, so it should be about 4 more hours until the meeting. That's only enough for a quick nap before having to start getting prepared.

Thankfully a side effect of being blind is that a person's internal clock basically becomes worthless. Normally someone's daily rhythms become synced with the sun. As Maize has never even seen the sun, she merely sleeps when tired and remains active when not. Generally her "days" are longer than a normal person's, and sleeps frequently but at irregular intervals. It could come anytime from morning till noon, evening through midnight, or sometimes sleep all day. But as a result, Maize can fall asleep wherever and nearly wake up exactly when she desires, almost to the minute. Maize takes a quick nap of 2 hours.

Waking up not entirely refreshed but well enough, she heads off to bathe. Normally bathing only involves a basin and towel, but despite not appearing so, the blind woman likes to indulge. Taking a towel, light robe, and the shampoo and soap crafted by herself, Maize heads through the forest to a stream only she knows about.

Maize deftly traverses the forest. She steps over roots, ducks below branches, and circles around trees. Doing so keenly, one would never expect she were blind. In her own home, she counts steps, commits everything's placement to memory, and becomes completely familiar with her surroundings. She has no idea what her own house even looks like, but she paints a vivid image in her head, capturing every minuet detail, and navigates her life in a manner that doesn't make her appear handicap. But that only goes as far as her own home. She is blind. When in a setting unfamiliar, she will stumble and fall. However, how she traverses the forest is neither of these. Then again, she stubs a toe against a rock and nearly spills.

After cleansing herself in the stream, Maize returns home and prepares. Hair dried and painstakingly combed, outfit assembled and worn with caution, the woman is just about finished when there's a knock at the door.

Heart beating faster, blood rushing to her cheeks, Maize tells the guest, "Come in."

Mellen enters with no little fanfare. She's well-prepared herself, dawning the garb fitting of the chief's mate. Her robes are golden-woven, arms covered, and legs hidden. It's far removed from her normal day attire where one could mistake her for a common girl. It's an outfit befitting a ruler.

"Hello Maize. I just came to pick you up-"

But upon seeing her friend, even the regal envoy can't keep steady. The sight of her own best friend makes the woman swoon. Maize wears the fabric they purchased only the day before, but it's been transformed into an outfit that's simply spectacular. The colors are cool and calming, but the way the robe's been folded and embroidered make the blind Maize appear exotic. Not only the dress, but the work done on herself as well. The normally bristly Saiyan hair is soft and glossy, styled straight but still with plenty of volume, and slight touches of cosmetics almost make her appear divine. Mellen can't believe what she sees.

"This is too much," she says in spite of herself.

Embarrassed by how she's overdone, Maize still finds something odd in her friend's tone of voice.

"Pardon?"

Realizing she's said something she shouldn't of, Mellen is quick to collect herself, "Oh, no. I'm sure this is fine! You just, really surprised me! You're beautiful."

Interpreting it the only way she knows how, "Would that be, too beautiful?"

Brow cringing at her friend's snark, "Oh yes. You're so beautiful I almost want to mate with you myself. Now come on, everyone's starting to gather. I lead you to the square where the meeting will take place."

Giggling a bit, Maize offer her arm to be led by, "Certainly. If you would."

Arms interlocked, the friends leave for the Tribe Meeting.

The path isn't one particularly unknown to Maize, but there's a certain unease in the air. The blind woman remembers this being called a "show of force," but it still feels somewhat different. It's not exactly hostility per sey, but a trepidation. The nearby houses feel barricaded, and the streets barren of any kind of good will. Worries over her overdone preparations have eased, but have been replaced. For what, however?

Led to the meeting hall, where the men usually do battle planning when the situation arises, this is where the leaders of the two tribes will meet. Already dozen have gathered, milling around nervously among themselves. Immediately Maize realizes what she was finding odd.

"I'll leave you right here," she's taken to a corner of the large room. "I have to be on stage with my mate, so I can't stick with you. Will you be okay on your own?"

The blind woman expected as much, so she'd already been prepared to fend for herself, "Yeah. Sure."

Troubling all the same isn't that she's alone, but that she's not. Though she might be blind, her other senses are heightened far beyond anyone who retains all original faculties. Through hearing and smell, Maize can tell this hall is filled entirely with women. Younger ones at that. And if she had to guess, unmated.

Have they, have all the virgin females of their village been sold out?


At this point Squeesh was tired and exhausted and wanted to get this over with. On their journey here, he had to bend over backwards to, thanks to Umpkin's "friends," convince his leader not to attack Dekkon and simply steal all the females. They were vastly outnumbered and wouldn't get very far. It was a stupid idea no matter how one looked at it, which only made it more worrisome because it's something Umpkin would go for. That was precisely why Squeesh wanted to go alone with the Sorr Tribe's chief, because the tactician knew his decisions were given very little respect by the other tribesmen. In general, intelligence is viewed as a vice by the majority of the Saiyan race. The less voices whispering in Umpkin's ear the better.

After over a day of traveling and arguing, the Tort Tribe was in view. At the village gates, two stood waiting. One of the group recognized them as they've met several times before in battle. Of above-average height, slim yet muscular build, and annoyingly handsome features, was Dekkon. Squeesh didn't like him very much, but at least this tribe leader had a decent head on his shoulders and was capable of being reasoned with. And while he might appear leaner, his technique over raw physical power made him a frightening warrior. One thing was for certain, the Squeesh was glad he would now be an ally.

The one next to his side was not a fellow leader, but apparently his female. One look at her made even Umpkin blush. The female, Squeesh thinks he remembers her name to be Mellen, is certainly a prize. Wide hips, slightly plump features, and rack that was bigger than even his own head, Mellen would fit most Saiyan's ideal of a perfect female. It's no wonder she's the mate to the village chief. Inwardly Squeesh wishes she were one of the girl made available to them from now on.

"Welcome Umpkin, Squeesh," Dekkon seems hesitant about the unannounced additions to the meeting, "and others."

Before any of the others say something that would have this journey lead to bloodshed, Squeesh hurries ahead of the group and greets Dekkon.

"Chief Dekkon, it's a pleasure to see you again on this ceremonious occasion. For, safety's sake, and to ensure no harm should befall us before an agreement can be met, we departed with a select handful of escorts. I hope this is not disagreeable."

Dekkon takes a moment to eye this group from the Sorr Tribe. Thankfully they didn't come in such numbers that could be considered a threat, so the chief accepts this development.

"No, this is fine."

Umpkin steps past his tactician and stands before the fellow chief. He towers over Dekkon by nearly two heads, but these two men are considered equals. Mellen steps back a pace as the tension rises from their standoff. Squeesh begins to sweat.

"So," Umpkin speaks to Dekkon for the first time since last they battled, "from today forward we will be brothers."

Inwards Squeesh breathes a sigh of relief. Thank god he was actually listening to everything the smarter man said.

"Yes, brothers."

Despite being cordial, they're still passively hostile to the other. Neither lower their guard, both are ready to strike at a moments notice. In other words, they're acting like any normal males would. Both Squeesh and Mellen realize there's nothing further to worry about.

For a moment their eyes lock, and Squeesh clearly sees it on Mellen's face. Disgust. It was the kind of expression that stated, "Thank god I won't have anything to do with you." The chief's female is quick to correct herself and be diplomatic, but that moment of transparency was registered by the meticulous tactician. She despises him.

"Well, we can't very well stand here all day," Mellen takes the role of peacekeeper. "There are the final formalities that must be completed, and then we can attend the ceremony."

"Yeah," both leaders speak, very little attention paid to anything other than their rivalry.

The six from Sorr are led to a large building that's likely used for theater or assembly. They're taken to the back, however, in a small room. It's literally nothing more than a table and a few chairs. Likely this is where the Tort leaders discus war strategy and general council matters. This is where the deal between the Tort and the Sorr will be officially struck.

Umpkin, Dekkon, and only a long rectangular table between them. Squeesh stands to Umpkin rear much like Mellon does with her mate. Apparently she works in a capacity similar to the official tactician's own. Exactly how far does her influnce extend into this tribe's official affairs? Squeesh take's note. This female might actually be formidable.

"Let's begin with a reading of the proposed agreements," Dekkon starts off. "First, all hostility should immediately desist upon both sides. This includes organized actions as well as raiders. In the case of invasion from an outside third tribe, the other shall come to the defender's aid no matter what the circumstance. This is purely a measure of defense, and any joint offensive actions shall be discussed as arises. There will be no preconception of joining forces as a means of invading another tribe's territory."

"..."

Squeesh kicks Umpkin's chair. The big lug nearly already fell asleep.

"Ah, yeah."

"Second, each tribe will now be open to cohabitation. Extratribal relationships, including mating, will be allowed without supervision, but only upon consent. There will be no, 'selling off' of Tort Tribe females to make up for Sorr's diminished female population."

"Y-"

But Squeesh kicks the chair before Umpkin gets ahead of himself.

"That is under the assumption at least 50% of Sorr Tribe's eligible, approximately 27 males, are mated with Tort females over the course of 2 years. If that quota is not met, then coupling will be arranged else this agreement be void."

Dekkon tried to sneak out of this amendment by catching Umpkin napping, but Squeesh kept a vigilant watch. At failing to pull one over on them, Dekkon reluctantly agrees.

"Aye."

After taking care of the two major issues, they briefly discussed trade, taxes, joint council, and other boring yet important stuff that Umpkin wouldn't understand at all. These weren't as important, but nonetheless necessary when two tribes join hands such as they are. At least the four Sorr "Escorts" knew well enough to shut up at this point and let Squeesh do his job. As those with intelligence took the helm, and Mellen making a few points here and there as well, they progressed rapidly and wrapped up far sooner than the tactician anticipated. Honestly, this was concluding all too smoothly for Squeesh's taste, but maybe he was just being overly cautious.

"Then, we are in complete accord," Dekkon announced.

Squeesh again kicked Umpkin chair to wake him up, to which he immediately replied, "Yes, yes," in a slightly confused state.

Not particularly caring his counterpart barely understood what was going on at all, Dekkon still stood proud and extended a hand, "Then, we are brothers."

At least holding the understanding the official proceedings are complete, Umpkin stands and shakes the others hand, "Yes, brothers."

All tensions fade as everyone (Squeesh and Mellen) breathes a sigh of relief. It was tense for a while there, but all of the hard work towards today has finally come to fruition. The goal Squeesh set to accomplish has finally been met.

"So do we get the females yet?"

And then there are those asshats. The four "bodyguards" had been waiting impatiently for this moment. They came for one and only one purpose, to get their hands on Tort females. Their aim transparent, Mellen takes them apprehensively. It might be seen as selling out their virgin girls, but the Tort Tribe was getting a lot out of the agreement. However, it didn't make any easier to stomach when there were horndogs like these.

"Yup," Umpkin follows lead. "The females are all ours now!"

Squeesh face palms. Not more than 3 seconds pass and he's already spit on his sworn brother. Well, they shook hands so it's now a done deal, but that was still contentious behavior.

"There will be a ceremony and assembly now," it nearly physically hurts for Dekkon to say this. "The village girls have been assembled and have been waiting in the hall."

All too eagerly the Sorr follow Dekkon and his mate to the assembly hall. Inside, they find maybe a hundred girls waiting for this ceremony to begin. Apparently they've been made to sit for a while as they gossip loudly and display general displeasure. But upon noticing the crowd now taking the front of the stage, begin to quiet.

"What's going on?"

"Are they finally ready?"

"Who are they?"

It looks like this deal was kept secret from the general population. Squeesh isn't quite sure if this was something that should have been kept this close to the vest. The tactician's own opinion was to keep it an "open" secret.

"My fellow ladies," Mellen takes the role as speaker, nervousness and uncertainty well-hidden on her face, "we have been gathered here today to announce a wonderful alliance. Just moments ago, an agreement has been reached between the Tort and Sorr tribes. From this point forward, we shall be joined as one. We shall be family."

There's sporadic applause. Many recognize this as a good thing, but are still curious why only virgin females have been gathered here. Some appear to have an idea what this may truly be about, but nobody is outright voicing accusations. Squeesh is worried this may get out of hand.

"Hey," overhearing one of the bodyguards whispering to another, "I call that one third row from the front, on the left side."

The one spoken to looks it over, "Nice. I think I like that one on the far right."

Scratch that, Squeesh knows this will get out of hand.

"You have all been gathered here today," Tort's first female continues, "to discuss the arrangements made, and to-"

Words stop registering in Squeesh's mind. He sees her in the back. In the corner, as if trying to hide, lays a extraordinarily beautiful female. She's of clean complexion, strong proportions, gorgeous silky hair, and exquisite dress. She's of darker, tanned skin, but she's stunning nonetheless. This woman might not have had the widest hips, plumpish thighs, or biggest breasts, but she was exotic, a Saiyan unique among Saiyans. Her body, it was a work of art.

And then she is lost in the uproar of the crowd. Snapping back to the matter at hand, Squeesh realizes Mellen just dropped the big news. The crowd didn't take it lightly. It'll be a while before this mobs gets under control.

Under his breath, inaudible due to the roars of the crowd, Squeesh tells himself, "Dibs."