It'd only been shallow breathing at the beginning of his day. Jeice tended to be out of breath more and more frequently now, as soon as the time arose to get out of his chamber. Winter approached, so it would all have made perfect sense, anyways. It was harder to breathe; when the cold is always filling your lungs and less heat is being both taken in and out. He really hadn't liked winter either, as those seasons and predictions blurred his vision, and he would constantly lose all of his senses to the cold. And especially what he absolutely dreaded in a daily forecast prediction was rain. The water that would pelt his skin and hair felt like someone was scratching, peeling, hammering nails into his skin over one hundred fold. It would make him think of what had he even preferred in terms of having better regulation, so between summer and spring, he chose spring. Aromas wafting of flowers, humid conditions that were just right personally for him, hearing birds, bees, hum and hearing their wings among the wind was his sought out comfort. But it was winter, only ever the winter, and so Jeice must do his best whatever the weather. As a soldier, caring about yours or any other kinds of invaluable conditions were nonsense. Among the Cold Empire, your job was to do as officials say, and get stronger everyday, but not showing off, or letting others on that you've become so full of different kinds of strength that you could lash the head of Gods clean off.

Rising out of further worthless lamentation, he decided on wearing double layers. The usual black V-neck sweater to go under his battle armor, another spare that he had found rummaging through a storage room one restless night, and then black spandex before having to put his armor on later in the morning. Jeice was toned alright, but he didn't have muscles where every part of his skin lay. He had the build of exactly that to a female fitness trainer (abs and muscled legs), which he disliked as he would receive ongoing looks from soldiers, no matter what gender identity, and couldn't determine whether it was disgust, or something way more sinister than your average peripheral passing glance. His long hair, going down to his hips didn't help confirm the fact to everyone that he was a male. But at the least it was a very comforting sensory; it reminded him of the thick puffy clouds in the sky you would usually see on a sunny day. And if clouds could feel soft like freshly produced silk, then that was what they would feel like solely based on his mane of hair. Jeice simply preferred the style, it was just what he always had had, and felt like he was himself in. Haircuts were always a must, but he wouldn't have minded it every time he needed one if it could have been given to those less fortunate or had cancer, rather than having to bend down and clean several thousands of dead follicles piled up on top of one another in several heaps that were the size of very small mountains.

His stomach churned at these intrusive thoughts, and the next thought of having to walk outside in his entirety. So he waited for a few minutes until the nausea passed, but when it didn't he sighed, deciding that walking it off would make him think less of it. And he could probably use something to eat anyway before starting another sporadic day.

Exiting the chamber, Jeice walked over to his closest friend's corridor.

"Yo", the reptilian responded with, having to bend his neck down to meet Jeice's face while the latter had to have his chin all the way up to meet the blue man's face. It made them both exchange a feint smile.

Burter was just as eccentric as the other Ginyu force squadron members, but he knew when there should be no funny business protruded on behalf of himself, and even Jeice as well, whenever it was not to be tolerated. It had to have been his upbringing on his home planet to have this balance. Jeice could also be eccentric, but in a way that made him come off as the feel-good kind of flamboyant and just someone that you could feel comfortable talking to.

Besides the small accent which added comedic value to a conversation, he was unique in his own way of going about things. Sitting in silence until the other soldier he was talking to was finished, then saying something to enrich what was being discussed, asking any questions he had on his mind. It would make many think he truly had a heart of an innocent little kid, but had grown to be simply respectful and pleasant to be around.

This was what people like Salza, and the Cooler Squadron failed to see among the bodies Frieza had under his manipulation.

His stomach churned again; Jeice couldn't control what others saw in him. Even if he did have a rather strong intellect, well behaved mannerism and anything else he would've loved people who despised him to see through to him, it would always be kept hidden until the recipient picked up on it. Like a taboo; it was never brought up until someone said something about it. Even when he knew himself that they did.

"Aye, hey m- meant to say hello, mate." This was one of those weird attributes about Jeice. He knew when to be professional upfront of superiors but he also though of even lower rank soldiers and his own squadron to be talked to with just as much respect. It gave him anxiety not knowing how someone would react if they hadn't felt like they were given enough respect or seriousness.

"Pfft, you're fine mate," Burter added in which made Jeice have another nervous sweat and ping from his gut. "You ready to head down for breakfast?"

"Okay-" Jeice began but was cut short of his small breaths from the cold seeping in again. He breathed in once, breathing in twice, breathing in again but less and less air was getting to his circulation. The cold sweat began again, and he was now breathing heavily, as if he was almost completely out of oxygen.

"Hey, Jeice?! Do you need me to get Frieza?" Burter was filled with more concern this time. Seeing his friend being out of breath was the normal, unfortunately, but putting a hand to his temple and against the wall as of his legs were starting to give up on him was a little bit different from what was the casual.

Even then, he hates this casual. It was extremely difficult on the shorter young man, and other passerby began to take notice of the Brench Seijin slowly falling to the floor, back arching up and down rapidly from all the breaths he tried to take in, each without barely any success.

Fear took over, and Jeice lost all of his other sensory. He was now having his full manic attack, having done the best he could to prevent it up until he got to Burter.

Tears sprung from his eyes, but he wouldn't let himself cry, unless he got the permission to. Especially in front of all these other soldiers who froze from where they were walking to see Jeice like this. He could only dart his head around so fast before dilated pupils turned back over to facing the ground, a hand over his mouth. The nausea kicked up another notch, as he put both hands down on the marble floor, knees bent, emptying his stomach. So many colors and geometrical figures like a kaleidoscope were entering his brain, and it made him even more horrified as he threw up a second time. He attempted to run away from the scene, but he couldn't move whatsoever. Coughing from the bile, he finally shrugged his shoulders, slowly up and then going down as if to get one final attempt of air in. But for another failure, everything in that moment was clouded by black, thick clouds. Filling up his lungs, where he would now break down, sobbing, dryly saying "sorry, sorry, sorry" over and over again.

"Where are THEY?!" A voice from the background had shouted. It didn't help Jeice from crying with both hands over his mouth to muffle the sobs, eyes closed so he couldn't see anything looking at him.

He learned during points in his life, that rather trying to keep resisting, he had to give up and face what was next. His movements lowered, and slowed down, and he fainted just below Burter's boots; hearing precise clacking running up to the duo. Though having lost his cool, Jeice had the ability to pick up on which movements had belonged to a person he had been well acquainted with, and their motions and touch.

And so he knew the person, who was also on the scene was none other than Captain Ginyu, of course.

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Author's Notes:

Regarding the Rating System: This specific fan-made story is and will be rated M, as components of this chapter and what is to come next in the later weeks will have material of mental health issues and other very strong themes; which is not suitable for those who are easily disturbed, cannot deter real life from fiction, and/or who are the faint of heart.

Next Chapter Release:

With the following said, the next chapter will be out near the first 1-2 weeks of November.