Warning: Though the language is somewhat mild, some of the content on this fic such as strong violence, sex, & even a rape scene are not suitable for younger readers. Read with care!

Debts Unpaid

By: Yashy22m

Part I

Chapter 2

Heavy loads of smoke rose into the night air. Dead silence were the only words heard through the imprisoned chamber. The gust of nightfall poured through the caged window. The young boy sat curled up in the corner of the dark cold cell rocking back and forth in the course of shock. He could not grieve for his homeworld. He couldn't even grieve for his own mother, who he had seen stripped out of her existence right before his very eyes like she was nothing but a pile of waste, not even worth dirt. He felt a deep hollow space inside his chest where his heart laid. It constricted against his ribcage. How high this immensity of ache it held, and he could not even grieve. He could only uphold its contents as it rioted to break free from its restrains.

A trail of blood trickled down the side of his temple. How long had he been out cold? An eternity it seemed. It had come to his surprise that the Saiyan mercenaries had not finished him off just like the others. They usually showed mercy to no one. A thick fog, which laid over the tunnel to his thoughts lifted, giving him the perception of his whereabouts. He could vaguely remember the last few moments before the tragic abolition of his homeworld along with his people, the Shadou-jins. The young Shadou-jin merely stared in a numbing stupor feeling as if the scene before him were a surreal panorama in a fruitless dream. He stood watching his world go up in a searing ball of fire and disappear into the dark empty void of space as if it had never been. It was all he could do not to lose his sanity altogether, just stare. A shrill sound outside his cell alerted him from his trance. The door slid open to reveal a heavily built guard, his tail swaying impatiently from side to side. Were all these Saiyans this gigantic? He drew his knees closer to his chest edging as far away from the guard as he could. The Saiya-jins had held him captive in their ship for the pass few months, having contact with no other life form except for the occasional sliding of a tray of food disposed from one of the guards. This time, the guard held no offerings. On rare occasions where he lost grip with reality, the guard struck him down for the involuntary shrieks that erupted from him when the surrealism of his disposition lost its illusion and hit him with the cold hard truth. He was the last of his kind, a prisoner bearing with the thought that he could be put to death at any given moment. Everything he had known, everyone he'd loved…gone forever. The hefty guard grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the cell through a deserted corridor. He could hear the voices of the other soldiers buzzing about the spaceport taking leave to the palace grounds.

The next moments were a blur. After entering the palace and passing through a maze of corridors, the guard dropped him at the base of a throne kneeing before his top peer of the realm. He looked up. There sat the man who had murdered his mother, the King of Vegeta-sei—the heart of the Saiyans' world. His blood boiled with rage. The man began to speak but his words were lost to the sudden buzz in his ears. The young boy raised his fists riled up to charge at the much larger man in front of him. He could care less whether he lived or died. He lunged forward in vain, as the guard struck him from the rear bringing him down to weakened knees.

"A wildcat," said a voice beside the throne. He hadn't taken note of the horned white creature that had been standing there gazing at him in mild amusement. An intense course of power plunge his senses like a tidal wave.

"This one's got the warrior's spirit in his eyes," remarked his mother's killer. "He's from the rebel world of the Shadou. I hear his people had the ability to manipulate rays of light into a short form of invisibility. Not many converted to warriors, but if training and disciplined in the right direction, the boy's strength could peak just shy of an Elite's. His talents may be of some use to your liege."

The creature exuded irritably, "I am well aware of the Shadou-jins' capabilities," he added as an afterthought, "'had' the ability?"

"Let's just say he's up to one of his kind."

The lizard-like creature rubbed at his chin scanning the boy's power level with the small contraption covering his left eye. He had seen it before, a scouter. They all wore it over one eye, except when not in combat.

A dark malicious smile swelled across the ashen creature's face making him shudder under his crude stare. "Very well, I'll take your offering, for now. I do believe talent should not be latent into waste. Speaking of talents, we will discuss the matters of the little Prince's services in our next visit." The Saiyan King bowed in reply taking his leave of the throne room. "Tell me, little one, what is your name?" he stooped before the young boy inspecting him further.

"Ku—Kumori," he stuttered all trail of his latter fury dissipating.

"It is a privilege and an honor to be part of the best band of fighters in this whole region of the galaxy, if you can prove yourself worthy enough to survive my regiment. I, Lord Frieza will be your master. You will serve me in any way necessary that suits your capabilities. If you do not measure up to the tasks given to you, then well…I suggest you fulfill your purpose if you do not seek your own death. In exchange for your life and atone the sins of your forefathers, pledge to me your loyalty and serve my cause as the supreme ruler of the galactic system." He paused, letting his words trail for the boy to grasp. "What is thy choice?"

Ha! As if, he had a choice! It was either submit to or die by the hands of this twisted creature. The cage to his anguish and despair churned within him calling forth the darkest pits of his mind. Death shone the lightest of this transaction. Despite all the devastation and suffering he'd endured, something inside him refused to simply turn over and die. He saw his father's pale sweat-filled face, laying stiffly on what later became his deathbed. The words whispered by his father's last breaths recited in his ears. "We have fought long and hard to keep peace in this land without the corruptions of the outer worlds. Their threshold will soon overwhelm us. In the face of the obstacles and challenges that will overcome you, never forget your origins, your people…and most importantly never forget who you are. One of the strongest of our sons, fight for your people; honor them, avenge for them, live on in the hopes that one day your name be carried on in the dignity and glory of your Shadou-jin blood."

Live on…avenge, oh father, he was not ready for such a task.

There was one thing he still could do and though it would take many great efforts and commitment, he would not let his father down. He would live…for as long as deem possible and carry on the name of the Kuragari clan until every aspect of his father's charge were fulfilled until all that was lost be restored.

A rootless undertone whisked his ears overriding his father's plea, "A foe for a foe…within the eye of the storm lay dormant…slip in with the shadows of the night…strike unforeseen…thus within, grounds the greater harm." He summoned the strength to keep from collapsing internally swallowing his pride for the time being, his mind set. "I—I pledge my loyalty to…your sovereignty, my Lord." Kumori felt as if he'd swallowed the contents of a poisonous vial.

The dark horned creature placed a hand on his shoulder. "Very well. Now rise! Kumori of Shadou-sei! There is much to do before you begin your first mission as my underling. Come!"

The Ice Lord motioned for his other subordinate to step forth. A large bulky pink creature motioned for him to follow leading him along yet another set of corridors and into an even larger ship than the Saiyans had transported him in. There, they carried him off…off into the pits of hell crueler than he ever thought to exist, crueler than the elaborate imagination his 12-year-old mind could take, to serve unwillingly, the master that should have been the creator of all horrors.

- - - - - - - - -

Bulma cracked open a heavy somnolent eyelid trying to read the blurred red digits flicking of the timer on the nightstand. She stretched for the familiar warmth of the solid figure, which should have been occupying the vacant space alongside her. He sure wasted no time ducking out this morning. She had been eager in asking Vegeta about the whole helmet incident. However, due to his habitual aloof nature, all she'd gotten out of him was a diversion in the only other way he knew how to spurn off any civil conversation that would take place between them. He'd baited her every time knowing very well that her strong will would not let her silence the rampant storm that seized her quick igniting temper. As much as he aggravated her, knew every wrong string to pull to send her in a fiery rage…she could never resist him. No matter how much she tried, how hard she would struggle against him…against her own yearning cries for him.

She trampled over a mound of clothing, kicking one of Vegeta's boots across the bathroom floor. You would think he'd learn to clean up after himself. She shoved aside the pile of clothing adding her own clothes to the bundle. Turning on the showerhead, she tilted her head back letting the sprinkles of water pour down her face and make their way down the rest of her sore muscles. She closed her eyes in thought stroking her still flat stomach.

It had dawn on her for the longest time, how things have a way of twisting themselves in unexpected ways. From the moment she'd learned to walk, all she'd ever wanted to do was built—her fascination growing to inventing and seeking out new knowledge. As she grew older, her mind expanded like a flowing wave in a torrent, crashing down with violent force with each new idea that formed from her imagination. Reaching the point were she had surpassed even her father, Dr. Brief—a highly respected genius in his own right, at only 16 years old. With her father's great financial success in the invention of the Dino Capsules, she'd grown into a very comfortable life, spoiled into getting everything she desired. Most could say she had it all—brains, wealth, and beauty.

But they were not enough. Bulma needed something more, something that no amount of money and knowledge could buy. When she discovered the dragonball in her attic and of its mystical tale, she set off to explore the world. Hoping to find that something that could satisfy her emptiness despite everything she had. In her journey, she'd found Yamcha, her first love. She thought they would get married and stay together for the rest of their lives—a typical girl's dream of a happy fulfilling life. She'd been wrong.

Then came Vegeta…

His snobbish arrogant attitude annoyed her, acting as if the world had to serve his every need. Their tempers clashing like a pair of tornados swirling around each other ready to tear the other to shreds. There was another side to Vegeta, a side she almost missed at first glance. In their many arguments, she began to notice his intellect as they exchanged their daily verbal sparring match. Their arguments had become a game of wits, a game she began to enjoy. It didn't go unnoticed that he too enjoyed the verbal brawls.

When Marai Trunks warned Goku of the androids, all the boys began to train. Again, she found herself alone, the feeling of emptiness choking up her senses. After the drama with Yamcha and the constant feeling of loneliness, her trail kept leading her to Vegeta. He was there, when she fell apart after the breakup. In the late hours of night, when she stayed up working on one of her many projects, he was there.

Another trait Bulma noticed was his strong dedication to any goal he set. Her father had built a gravity chamber in the space pod Goku'd used to travel to Namek. Vegeta trained within its capsulated walls to the point of sere madness. She learned everything Vegeta did he put such an intense dedication it awed her—a rare trait among most. Intensity indeed, she chuckled remembering the night before as kinky images swirled her mind. Her mother pointed out in her loopy-sided ways that a man with that much dedication to anything was definitely husband material. The idea baffled her at first. How could she even consider being with someone as violent and egocentric as he? He tried destroying Chikyuu, for Kami's sake. Not to mention killed a few of her friends. Oh, how the heart betrays the mind. He wasn't unattractive, she admitted. His face and body sculpted like a bronze Roman statue, muscles chiseled to perfection. But it was his eyes that captivated her interest, those deep coal colored soulful eyes. They spoke volumes.

One night, Bulma had enough. She was tired of the constant loneliness. She was tired of all the arguments, tired of the sexual tension building up between them. She began with a tease…

She had finished her work for the night, striding off to the kitchen where he stood among the shadows of the dim lit room waiting for his meal. The moon cast a blue luminous glow. Instead of the usual retort for him to get his own food, she took a container from the fridge, picking a small slice of roast beef. She dangled the piece of meat close to his lips tracing his jaw line with her fingertips. He hesitated before swallowing it down intrigued by this new game. She fed him again, this time tracing a finger down his back. He sighed in what seemed like relief then stiffened as if he had touched a live wire. Growing bolder, Bulma leaned close to his ear brushing her lips on his lobe and whispered, "Like some more?"

Vegeta stared at her for the longest time many mixed emotions playing across his pupils. They harden, not missing her hidden meaning, "foul woman, as if I would ever…" His breath quickened.

She hid her disappointment replacing it with anger. "Fine!" She threw the plastic container in his face.

He swatted the tray away grabbing her raised arm pinning her against the fridge. "You wench," he drew closer their faces literally a breath apart. "Maybe I should teach you a lesson."

"Let go of me!" She spat trying to claw her way free as he tightened his grip raising both her arms above her head. Despite his roughness, he did not hurt her.

His eyes bore into hers glowing ominous from the moonlight's reflection. They soften slightly and he loosened his hold. His lust betrayed him. With his free hand, he ran shaky fingers through her blue mane caressing the back of her neck. "You should not bait things that can bite you back." He let go of her arms as a slight shiver ran through her backbone.

Bulma wrapped a leg around his waist. "What makes you think I can't handle little old you?" Heat radiated between their meeting points.

He smirked, "We'll see about that." He lifted her by the hips an overanxious hand feeling up her short skirt and carried her to her room. They undressed in a feverish scurry wanting skin touching skin. He plunged inside her leaving her gasping in the wake of pleasure it stimulated.

He moved—

A wave of nausea crept up her throat. She rushed out the shower empting her stomach's content into the toilet bowl. She steadied her shaking form taking a few deep breathes before composing herself. She should have kept her mind on present things such as how was she going to tell him... She slipped into a red tank top and shorts catching her reflection in the mirror. Her face shone pale and withdrawn. There were bags under her eyes. Vegeta had indeed given her that night exactly what she'd been searching for. He was a wildcard as best—his maddening obsession to strength, and the brutish Saiya-jin ways he latched out made him so unpredictable. Yet, it was his unpredictability, which intrigued her the most.

Bulma continued down to her lab preparing mentally for the task of fixing the helmet. She spotted the discarded piece of gadget, not looking forward to the countless hours she'd have to labor over its restoration. As she lifted the helmet, the visor sprung off its hinges an idea formulating in her mind. She could compress all the circuitry and add a router to replace the wiring. That way, there would be more freedom for the user. Only one problem, the computer was fried and the data with the wavelengths she needed to make the helmet work were no longer on record. She'll just have to do something about that. She leaped up with renewed energy, heading to the giant lot of Capsule Corps' finest manufactured aircrafts and automobiles. Boarding a hovercraft, she took off with a renew determination.

A few hours later, she landed on the hilly tops of a rich green terrain. Looking in the far distance, she found a small cream-colored dome shaped house, the same place where the adventures of her life began—Goku's childhood home. It didn't take her long before she spotted her long time childhood friend.

"Hey, Bulma, how's it going?" he greeted her approaching form levitating down from his meditating state. He remained cross-legged only cracking open one eye.

"Goku, there you are. Think I could borrow that head of yours for a sec?" No point wasting time.

"My head?" He scratched the back of his black wild spiked hair. "What on Earth for?"

"It's for one of my latest projects. I managed to create a device that works like your 'Instant Transmission'. The only problem is I sort of…lost the data on it."

"And you need my head because…?" He looked more terrified than confused.

"Whenever you use your technique, 'your head' gives off a signal that tells your body to dematerialize to travel as a mass of light, right? I have to record those signals so I can simulate them into my computer."

"Gosh, Bulma, I don't know. I still have some more train—" Goku jumped back at the increased volume of her voice.

"What is with you Saiyans? All you ever want to do is train. It's like nothing exists outside your world of fighting. Will it kill you to take a five minute break?"

He had a feeling her little experiment would take a lot more than five minutes of his time. "Alright, alright, calm down. After I'm done with today's session, I'll stop by Capsule Corp and you do all the recording you need." He sat back down on the grass.

She pulled him back up by the collar of his blue Gi shirt. "I need that data right now. I can't wait all day for you to finish training."

"I'd love to help but I—"

"Oh come on, Goku." An idea fluxed from the back of her mind, "how about this, if you let me study your head for two hours, I'll convince Vegeta to spar with you after I'm done with the recordings."

"Really? You think he'll do it. I know how discrete he is with his training." His face lightened with excitement, his eyes beaming with delight.

"Are you forgetting it's me you're talking to? I can convince him to do anything." Well, not quite, but Vegeta wouldn't turn down a fight with his rival.

"Alright, you got yourself a deal." Goku shook her hand as to seal the deal and transported them to Capsule Corp anxious to resume his training.

- - - - - - - - - -

Kumori snapped back to awareness when the sensors to his vessel stirred him from his haunting past as he inferred to pay the warning no concern. He barely remembered anything before his early childhood. Most memories were too painful to rear on for too long. Lately, bits and pieces of his fragmented past were puzzling together forming the redundant images of himself, he had lost long ago. If he had ever known, what pain and suffering were…? Nothing could have prepared him for what became of him after this mark of revelations that began to unfold upon his coveting taste for vengeance. He'd thought his services in the Ice Lord's liege would aid his retribution to his kind. It only brought forth unruly consequences. Calling them a living hell was an understatement accounting for all the torments and slaughters he had undergone. The cruelty of life reined on him and he simply could not figure out why. Why him? What had he ever done back then to make him deserve such an awful adversity? He scorned bitterly pushing all memory away from his thoughts.

"Father, I have let you down," he voiced regrettably at the turn his life had reached. The Saiya-jin world had gone long ago, destroyed ironically in the same manner as they had annihilated his own. Some Saiya-jins had outlasted the grand finale of their world and gotten sucked into Frieza's band. He had tried once to extinguish their remaining kind in a deceitfully arranged strike mission, which ended up backfiring causing a very brutal mini-war between him and some affiliates of the Ginyu squad. Since then, his enemies spun in multiples, from all sides.

After Frieza's tyranny broke down, rumors told it was the hand of a lone Saiyan, which lay responsible for the Ice Lord's death. A golden warrior with immense strength even greater than that of the mighty Ice Lord had shred him to pieces. It was the same legendary warrior whom the Saiya-jins believed would surface every thousand years—the same warrior Frieza had feared would overpower him. Kumori searched high and low scanning all the regions of Frieza's old territories for any wonderers only to surface empty-handed. The handful that survived remained scattered about the universe unbeknown of their existence. It was as if their kind had disappeared off the face of the universe. As much joy as the thought brought forth, he could not be content in not knowing if there really were any Saiyans left alive.

The sensors' alarms began to beep uncontrollably just in time for his small vessel to swipe the course of the wandering remains of scrap parts. He dodged through the scrap yard's heart only to come in collision with a straying mass chunk of metal. The vessel screeched to a violent halt as the grinding sound of metal-to-metal sliced his ears. Kumori launched the vessel forward the engines amercing him with more grinding. What in blazes had he hit? He shut off the engine checking the scanners for the first time since the alarms had gone off. Bloody hell, he had sailed straight into the bridge of a larger ship. Most of the controllers where still intact, reckoning he just rammed a whole vessel through them. A semi portion of the control room reared as if a giant blade had sliced up the missing half of its counterpart. Slipping on an oxygen preserver, he floated out onto the broken down bridge inspecting for any damage to his craft. A few dents and scratches were present here and there but nothing the ship could manage. Convinced his vessel was in safe conditions, he began exploring around the larger ship seeking for anything useful he could salvage.

There was something vaguely familiar to the layout of the ship. The circular form of the bridge, the half remainder of the control room and even the outer designs wedged on the metal coverings reminded him of thousands of other ships he had traveled in. Had he been here before? He rummaged through a small compartment hidden deep beneath the pilot's seat. It contained piles of documents, a tiny medical kit, which he pocketed, a few data discs and…a scouter! Kumori flinched at the wisp of memory it rekindled. No! He would not turn away, not now, not ever again!

A debilitating wave of bone-chilled eeriness swept through his backbone striking him with the force of a ton of bricks. He trembled and sagged down to his knees unable to endure its might. The wave seized through every nerve ending, every synapse, and every fiber of his being sizzling in a traveling electrical current of power. It whiplash the nicks and folds of his brain until it caused him to convulse into a delirium. His mind's eye began to construct the missing pieces of the ruin ship. Rubble, metal, screws and bolts bended and reshaped into the great space cruiser it once had been. The shell of the passengers flickered in and out of visibility. The clock rewind little by little dawning on a time of yore.

Kumori rose from the squatting position he had been in moments earlier. He was no longer a man but a child barely reaching the peak of adolescence.

He dusted off the dirt from his black tinted suit shifting the weight of the tool kit in his hand to the other as he impatiently waited for the chief engineer to grant his dismissal. Sounds of working drills and wrenches echoed within the passageway. The repairs to the fuse box were taking forever, he thought wearily as his gaze began to wonder around the narrow corridor. He'd rather take on another purge mission than be waiting on these stupid technical geeks all day long. Most of the soldiers in the base were on standby due to an urgent matter Frieza was handling with one of the slave worlds up in Kusuri-sei. Word was they were adding a new recruit to the medical staff—a very important asset if Frieza himself was dealing with the terms. His attention turned towards the sliding of the door to the training quarters. Out emerged a young boy a tail wrapped around his waist followed closely by an elder man who also bore a tail. Saiyans he figured with despise clutching the toolbox's handle even harder willing down his heated storm of hatred for their kind. He fought the urge to strike them on the spot.

The younger boy wore the standard blue suit covered by a white and gold-plated armor engraved with the symbol of the Elite soldiers. That little tike was Elite! He couldn't be any older than six maybe seven years old. A few yards away, the little boy lean against the wall next to the medical bay's door, his arms were crossed a bored expression playing on his hard-set face. Kumori toned in on the fiery debate rising from the two.

The older Saiyan shrieked in earnest, "But, Prince Vegeta, Master Frieza won't be so thrilled waiting in on him like this. Wait until he settles in and returns to the royal quart—"

"I don't remember asking your opinion, Nappa!" Chibi Vegeta scolded at the older man. "If you think it's such a bad idea then leave, nobody's forcing you to stay."

"But…Oujisama, I don't think you should—"

"Why the hell did you follow me here if it bothers you so?"

"I'm sorry, I was only tryin'—"

"Piss off! This is none of your concern!" Vegeta struck the wall beside him causing a small ripple throughout the corridor's foundation.

"Y—yes, my Prince," the older Saiyan backed away into the training quarters with as much dignity as he could save.

A wire sprang lose from the impact causing the lights to flicker on and off a bit. Quickly without protest, the chief engineer reconnected the fuses as the other worker rechecked the power meters, restoring everything back to working order. None could afford for the power to short-circuit, again, it would mean their heads if it did. Kumori shot daggers at the Saiyan child. He slammed the tool kit on the floor not missing the opportunity to start a quarrel with a Saiyan.

"Kumori," the engineer warned in his ear placing a restraining hand on his shoulder eyeing the younger boy nervously, "I advice not to stir up any trouble with that one, he is a bit shall we say unstable."

"Tsk, and just let him get away with that." He swatted the hand away pressing on. "Hey, kid!" he strode over to the boy.

The small boy's head snapped up, stiffing from the position on the wall. Vegeta narrowed his eyes dangerously already sensing the upcoming brawl.

"Look what—" Kumori peered closer at the younger boy's face. The long spiked black hair and the coal colored eyes, they were a miniature replica of the savage beast that had killed his mother. Then, it hit him.

"You…" he conveyed softly recognizing exactly who the boy was. Kumori pulled the small boy up by the shirt shaking him with every word. "You were there! You were there when my homeworld was destroyed. You're the reason why the Shadou-jins are all dead! You're the reason why my mother was…burn to ash." He swallowed down the lump contracting his airway. "You're…" Everything he had pent up, all the anger, all the hatred for the Saiyan-jins, the hatred for himself at all the brutal things he'd been force to do coursed forth on his sentiments paralyzing him with rage and pain.

The boy aimed a punch at Kumori's face catching him square in the jaw shaking himself off the older boy's grip. He staggered backwards stunned at the strength the tiny boy possessed.

"Who the hell you think you are—touching me like that?" Vegeta said arrogantly taking a fighting stance readying for the bigger kid's counteraction.

Kumori clutched his stinging jaw, "Shit, you filthy thickheaded savage monkey!" He swung blindly at the younger boy only to have his fist slash through vacant air.

Vegeta groan in fury. He phased in behind the older boy, jumping on his back pounding on his head with all his might. Once he recovered from the blows, Kumori morphed his body through the rays of light vanishing into shades of darkness. Vegeta fell through the spot where Kumori once stood flopping onto the shiny metal floor. He resurfaced above the small Saiya-jin pinning his chest down with the heel of his boot. The adjacent door from the medical bay swished open converting Kumori's attention to postpone his attack. Vegeta ceased the chance to swipe the back of Kumori's leg knocking the older boy off his feet and onto the ground beside him. Before either boy could make their next move, the course of power that swelled their senses caused them both to freeze in their assault.

"My, my, aren't we lively today?" Frieza stood before them intrigued by the sight of the younger soldiers' dismay. The two boys composed themselves sheepishly rising to their feet and bowing to perform the formal greeting to the Ice Lord. The other two engineers, who had long since abandoned their task to the fuse box bowled as well.

Kumori caught the flowing hue of crimson-coated hair. Slightly behind the Ice Lord, a young girl timidly awaited. The sight of her full visage nearly sapped his breath away. Never in his years had he seen a being with such an exquisitely angelic elegance. He met her stare enchanted within the depths of her lovely cress green eyes. She looked away flushed folding her hands behind her back.

Frieza gazed at the group expectantly. "Well?" Apparently, he hadn't been the only one to notice the girl's presence. The others gape on in either admiration or curiosity. "Set your jaws back in place and report your assignments unless you all rather I rip them permanently out of their sockets."

The chief engineer hastily stepped up to report their status, "My Lord, the repairs to the power fuse are all set. Some of the regulators still have a few tinks to work out but everything should be working smoothly. We will have them online as soon as possible."

"Good. Make haste on those repairs. I expect nothing less."

"Yes, my Lord." The engineers proceeded with their task.

Frieza turned towards the young girl. "Come, child, there is much we must discuss before you can settle in to your first assignment." He escorted her into the medical bay. Just as he had done to the many thousands others, just as he'd done when he first arrived. Kumori stared dejectedly after their retreating forms. Such a delicately beautiful creature shouldn't have to be in this God forsaken hellhole.

While strolling after the Ice Lord, the Saiyan boy shouted over his shoulder, "Next time, you won't be so lucky!"

He almost forgot about the little twerp! "Yeah, as if I were afraid of a toddle—" he shot back before being silenced by the chief engineer's hand on his mouth.

"I've told you not to mess with that one, you really are lucky to be alive, my friend," the engineer said after the boy's departure. "Do you not know who that boy was? He's the strongest of his kind not even full grown and already stronger than half the other soldiers here."

"Yeah, yeah, I know who he is. I can handle it!" Kumori shrugged nonchalantly but on the inside, he was blaring with rage. "Are we done here?"

The engineer stopped stocking one of the drills in its place concern written across his feature. "Kumori…"

"I said I can handle it!" He stormed off not bothering with his unfinished job.

"Ok, don't say I didn't warn you."

That was the last time he came to face with the scrawny beige skinned master tech who had become the closes thing to a friend he had ever dared to allow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Maijuh sat on the worn hard wooden chair placed in front of a new undamaged desk, the piles of scrolls swaying from their greater heights. He flicked back the loose strands of hair poking at his stress-filled hazel eyes. Among the large stacks of papers, one scroll in particular stared back at him mockingly, almost in a scorn. It was not the same, he told himself, but the circumstances were similar. In an occupation such as the monitoring of fate, the running of different bad case scenarios—coincidence was not a thing to take lightly. King Yemma, in the aid to prevent the unbalance and near destruction of the universe, which that infamous Buu character would have unleashed, unloaded on him the very long charges the Saiyan Prince laid claim. No living being, with such a record could have obtained their physical body after death. A privilege rewarded only to the good souls, the few who were downright exceptional. Yet, here he was cleaning up after Yemma's mess…again. For the many exceptions that Yemma made, Maijuh had to find another way to make up for them.

It was an uneven scale, tilting back and forth in a balancing act. The Saiyan was a piece of work in itself, a quicksilver bullet waiting to shoot out of his barrel with the slightest pull of pressure. Any side could corrupt him into joining the other— the darker side in particular. Maijuh jumped at the proceeding echoes of footfalls on the transparent glass floor.

"Actually working hard, I see." The old man cringe his wrinkled golden face in sarcasm.

Yeah, sure, I simply sit around staring at all these piles of paper growing bigger each day. "Kosan," he gritted his teeth in disdain, "what do you want?" Maijuh slammed the scroll down.

"Now, now, no need to get all frisked about it. I'm sure your department can be productive when it needs be." Kosan paced around the desk stopping over Maijuh's shoulder. "…and may I ask why this particular subject deserves such interest?"

"I would not expect the likes of you to understand," Maijuh retorted, fists tight underneath the dark blue sleeves of his garment.

"It's an open and close case! Someone like that couldn't possibly make such a drastic change over that extendable period of time. It is too deeply integrated within his nature. We are talking about a lifetime of conditioned slaying—a perfect killing machine without a conscience." Kosan plucked the scroll from among the others skimming it briefly.

"I disagree. I saw it…in his eyes. He may not show it on the surface, but from the inside he regrets his youth, his entire past, his old beliefs are recoiling before him, a little more each day." Maijuh snatched the scroll away.

The old man commenced pacing around the desk folding his hands behind his back. "A simple trigger could reverse those effects back to the way he used to be. Do you not remember what he's to become, what he's destined to represent?"

"It is but a rumor in which has yet to occur. For all we know it may never happen, it may as well be an excess farce, a test of his goodwill. Those charges don't just disappear without a cost."

"That's exactly my point!" Kosan struck the desk with both palms. "All those lives…the annihilation of whole hunks of galaxies, such record doesn't go unjustified."

Maijuh swayed some of the papers from falling over. "Does his amends merit to nothing for you?"

"It's against our marker to interfere with any mortal's fate no matter what the case!"

"Hey, you know me. I don't like to play by the rules." He leaned back tilting the chair to float against the air.

Kosan seized his arm pulling him back down to ground level. "It will cost you greatly! You are playing a dicey game waging on a cold-blooded killer. His probabilities are too high. Even now he's set at a vulnerable stage."

Maijuh shook him off. "I'll take my chances." He grabbed from the drawer a white headband engraved in gold with the symbol of infinity.

"We don't bid in overbearing chances. You should know that better than anyone."

"That's your bid, not mine." He straighten the headband on his forehead, "well, if you would excuse me. I actually have some of that hard work to attend to, you know, the one you think I slacked off." Maijuh walked through the rows of ticking clocks.

"The girl…" Maijuh froze at the old man's words, "is she the reason for your sudden faith?"

Damn the old bastard presuming he knew everything. "That is of no concern to you, old man!" Maijuh faded into shadows down the endless void.

"Fool! The grips of evil have lashed themselves on too tight on that mortal's heart. It will never let him go…once evil will forever remain evil." Kosan went off unbeknown of the other silhouette figure creeping in the void.

DBZ & characters (c) Akira Toriyama

Original Characters (c) Yashy M.