AN: Written scrappily this time, but here you go. The slash is a long way from happening though.
Vol is also what I'm calling a type of alcoholic drink in the saiyan world.
...
The fighting rings downtown were crowded, and Goten scowled as another saiyan bumped into him. He elbowed his way to the side, and watched as the saiyans prepared to fight. Trash talk and banter could be heard being tossed back and forth the opponents, and his brother could be seen limbering up, stretching his calf muscles in preparation. They were all low class saiyans here, with not much else to do but to gamble and drink and to fight and it suited them all just fine. Their mother hated the place, but it provided them with the money they needed, and nothing was better than being paid to do something they all loved.
The occasional saiyan recognised his dad sometimes; everyone had heard of the saiyan who had refused to fight in the outerworlds. Initially they had been greeted with hostility, and contempt, but they had quickly made a name for themselves in the rings as decent fighters. Bardock's name lent them a lot of slack, since most of the fighting rings were composed of ex military members and mercenaries, but there was still the odd one that questioned their place.
Like the moron that was currently due to fight Gohan now.
His name was Kiya, and he was built like an ox, muscles bulging and he had already been at the vol, taking back shots with his friends. Trash talk was customary, especially between opponents, but listening to the idiot, Goten was starting to bristle.
"Calm down son." Goku placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. "Gohan has this one in the bag."
Tora, a friend of their granddad's sat next to him, a patted him on the back.
"Don't worry, Kiya is just a loud mouthed idiot. He's just been demoted from second class so he feels like he has something to prove."
"Yeah, but I don't like the way he's trash talking my brother. He could beat him into the ground if he chose."
"Well, I don't know about that." Tora grinned. "He still has enough power to have become a second class, but Gohan should win if he's on his game tonight."
"Oh don't worry, he's always on his game." Goten mumbled, quietly so that no one could hear.
The lights became brighter and Gohan and Kiya stepped into the ring, and cheers and calls could be heard. The older saiyan was sneering at him and flexing his muscles, and Gohan looked calm as usual. His energy was still low, but he sank into the classic Son stance, calmly assessing his opponent.
"You're that son of that low class trash Kakarot aren't you?"
Gohan's eyes narrowed.
"And what if I am?"
"I surprised that they even let you fight. With a weak power level like yours, no wonder your dad gave up fighting. Even your pathetic mother – content at sitting home and playing housewife to a family of trash?"
With a flash, Gohan ran up the larger saiyan and decked him, punching him once in the face. The force knocked him off his feet and into the side of the ring, and there was a shocked silence as the man groaned, clutching his face piteously.
Goku groaned, slapping his face with his hand, but Goten knew his father too well and despite it, he was smiling proudly. No one insulted Chichi in front of them. No one.
"I'll get you for that you stinking piece of trash." Kiya growled, powering up, and if ki blasts had not been prohibited, Goten was sure that Kiya would have been sending them out. But Gohan just smirked, and crooked his fingers. His brother hardly ever got like that, but sometimes when faced against particularly obnoxious opponents, Gohan's darker side would appear and love of fighting could be clearly seen. It didn't take long at all, Kiya didn't have a chance against Gohan's superior speed or strength, and Goten was glad that they didn't have to lose any matches on purpose today.
Besides, his older brother was starting his new job next week, and it was his last chance to blow off some steam before he settled into the routine of things. Distantly, he could hear his dad and Tora talking about the anti-Frieza faction that had begun to develop in the saiyan army, but he tuned them out quite easily. He wasn't interested in politics, only his fighting technique. And with his tail lashing agitatedly behind him, he watched as the fighters took their places again.
…
Getting groceries was one of her favourite activities, and it calmed her to walk through the town. She was still angry at her husband for taking out her sons to the fighting rings, but inwardly, she knew that it was a lost cause. Although she had no desire to fight herself anymore, she remembered the feeling, and understood the sentiment, even though he often defied her wishes to do so. The store owners knew her well enough, and she thanked them as she walked back home, humming to herself.
Her father had nearly flipped out when she had announced her decision to marry Goku, and her friends at the time had all tried to convince her to change her mind. She had been sent to Earth as an elite to pick up the missing saiyan, and she had fallen for the man quick and hard. Elites and low class saiyans were simply not compatible with each other and yet she refused to listen. She got what she wanted and her father had reluctantly agreed, not that she would have had it any other way. Goku's power level now was even higher than it had been before, through the countless battles he had been through on Earth, and now even more so the constant challengers that approached him in the rings. Although she didn't approve of them fighting there, she did admit that it did them good to be out for a while, active and engaged with their saiyan heritage.
They had fought on Earth, as equals, and for the very first time, she found herself truly challenged by someone. Granted, he was an idiot at times, but no one else had such a blatant disregard of the rigid class systems that Planet Vegeta enforced, and she had found it refreshing.
Besides, she thought with a little smirk, the sex was fantastic. Grinning, she was beginning to prepare herself to take off for flight, until a group of saiyans noticed her, and walked directly towards her, unpleasant grins taking place.
"Chichi. It's been a long time."
"Get out of my way Jiro." Her tone was harsh. Clutching at her grocery bags, she felt a vein start to throb in her temple.
"What if I say no?" He just moved closer, invading her personal space. "Have you left that no good low class yet? Why don't you come move in with a real man."
This idiot was starting to annoy her.
"Seriously Jiro, I know there aren't many female elites around anymore, but what makes you think I would mistake you as anything but the inbred slug that you are?" Her snort of laughter was derisive, and as he charged at her she kicked him squarely in the jaw. Twirling around, she dispatched two of his goons with solid kicks, and without dropping her groceries; she knelt down on one leg, her knee placed firmly on his throat. She watched him choke impassively, letting her weight do all the work, and then smiled sweetly at him.
"Talk to me like that again, and I will kill you."
And humming, she swept her dark eyes across the rest of his friends, watching them cringe, and then took off into the sky, in the direction of home.
…
Vegeta paced agitatedly, expression scrunched into a scowl. His son had blown up another diplomat, which was in itself very problematic, but civil unrest was stirring up again, and he did not need it at this very moment. It was saiyan nature to fight, and there were always tensions between the class systems, but it usually only took a few well targeted patrols and executions to eliminate the problem. He enjoyed a good bloodbath as much as any other saiyan, but the problem this time he was a sympathiser to their cause. Anti-Frieza campaigns had been springing up everywhere amongst the lower classes, headed most likely by the low-level soldiers that had the most contact with Frieza's military, and although it pained him to admit it, he was slightly impressed that for once the third classes actually had it right for a change.
It was lucky that Frieza was currently conquering other worlds, because if Vegeta didn't do something to stop it soon, he was going to be in trouble for seeming too lenient. But truth be told, he didn't want to execute soldiers that could prove valuable in his eventual rebellion (because yes, there was going to be one) but it was too soon to act, and without a coherent strategy he was going to fail.
"Busy thinking are you?" His wife watched him dispassionately, though there was a slight curl to her lips that meant she was amused, and he glared at her in irritation. He was used to her mocking, but he kept her around for a reason; she was an invaluable strategist and he needed her, despite not wanting to admit it.
"Be serious woman." He snapped. "I need you to help me think of a plan to deal with the anti-Frieza faction amongst the lower classes."
Her gaze was sharp, and he knew that the subtleties of his request would not be lost on her.
"Let me guess. You need something that will appear to be completely innocent on the surface and therefore escape his icy-ness' attention, but will actually allow you to mobilise."
He nodded, brows furrowed.
"The situation is getting out of control. The lower classes are getting more belligerent everyday, and sooner or later Frieza is going to notice."
"Host a tournament. Distract them." She said slowly, after some thought. "Make it open to every saiyan on the planet, and make the prize a chance to advance classes and allow them to have an audience with you, the king."
"That's preposterous," Vegeta snapped, "saiyans do not change classes so easily, they are born into it."
"Just think about it." Bulma eyed him coolly. Vegeta paused. "You need to get rid of some of the pent up tension between the classes right? What better way than to let them fight it out themselves. Even if the elites completely dominate, you will still be able to see which of the lower classes have potential, and you'll be able to pick out assets and liabilities quite quickly. The offer of an audience with you implies you'll grant them a request but does not actually promise anything, but it will attract those such as the leaders of the rebel force."
"…And it will just look like bloodthirsty entertainment to Frieza and his lackeys." Vegeta trailed off, and for once, he was stunned. This was pure genius. Almost as good as the time his idiot son from the future had come back to tell them he was going to save the planet and that his mother had built a time machine for him to do so.
"You know, you and Trunks could even participate." Bulma said with a sly smile to her face. "That way, there would be no way you would ever be obliged to offer the winners anything, since they won't win."
"I'm going to talk to Nappa." He said, after another stunned pause. He looked at her admiringly, and then said grudgingly, "You've outdone yourself this time."
"I know." She preened, and then continued. "Oh, make it open to criminals and lift the ban on exilees for a while. These so called "leaders" probably have a bone to pick with you and Frieza, so it makes sense for you to keep your options open."
"Okay, consider it done." He swept away, his cloak fluttering behind him, and Bulma watched him walk away, letting her expression become slightly less harsh and more fond. Although her husband had apparently forgotten Kakarot, she definitely hadn't. Her future son had been very clear with his instructions, and damned if she was going to let her husband's stupid pride get in the way of saving her home planet, regardless of the consequences.
Vegeta was going to be in for a bad shock.
tbc
