Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z, nor any of the characters belonging to it.  Any other characters are of my own creation and belong to me.  Thank you. 

                Summary:  Kuririn has grown up on Vejita-sei his entire life, believing he was a Saiya-jin and never giving much thought to his heritage and irregularities.  But when truths of his origin are revealed, will the severe racism on the planet strengthen his and Kakarotto's relationship?  Or will it simply tear it to shreds?  

This is the tale of Kuririn and Kakarotto's struggles, trials, and ultimate epic journey across the borderline of innocence and into the frontier known as manhood...

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  This is an AU (Alternate Universe) wherein Kuririn has been raised on Vejita-sei almost his entire life.  Please note that he shaves his head, so he will not seem abnormal among his Saiya-jin peers who do not grow hair.  Thank you. 

                - Quatrina Raberba

The Ties that Bind Us

             Serenity momentarily reigned all.  Mighty trees, tall with age, towered over the small path that trailed through the ancient forest.  Golden sunlight spilt through holes in the canopy and graced the moist blades of grass that were rooted on the edges of the path and between the trees.  Normally, on a hot day like this one, the path would be stamped with footprints, both large and small.  Many a muscular boy would hang from aged tree limbs, while others would roll down the side of the path due to some sort of scuffle.  Some came to escape the ruthless sun; others came to escape their ruthless masters.  All in all, they all came for the sole purpose of a brief diversion.

                But not today.

                Not a soul was in sight, save a single figure that wandered down the straight path.  It would be easy to overlook him and assume no one lingered.  He made no loud noises of laughter, taunting, or yelling like most boys his age did when they weren't at work.  Instead, his hands were shoved neatly into his pocket while his head was bowed in a manner that almost resembled shame.  He wore armor of a warrior in training typical of any student living in his area.  His, however, was battered and terribly worn.  This could have been done either by excessive use -- or excessive beatings – for Saiya-jin armor was very strong indeed and very difficult to damage.

                He was a short fellow.  This was probably his most prominent feature, besides his lack of nose.  Like his armor, his face looked incredibly worn.  One of his eyes swelled with bruises and beads of sweat formed upon his shaved head.  A cut had been placed on his right cheek, the crimson blood drying and crusting some time ago.

                After giving an exhausted sigh, he suddenly stopped and leaned against one of the many trees that towered over the path.  The trunk was wide and the bark was hard, but it was a comfortable place to rest for the time being.  Quietly, he slid down until he was propped against the base of the tree.  After warily surveying his surroundings, he felt quite pleased to see that none of the other boys were about.  Sighing again, this time with relief, he closed his eyes and absorbed the warm sunlight that fell upon his face.    

                   His peers knew the poor boy as Kuririn.  A peculiar name for a Saiya-jin, Kuririn wasn't the only one who wondered of the name's origin.  Many a jibe and jeer would be directed towards him.  This was not only because of his name, but also his lack of a tail.  Among Saiya-jins, tails were considered sacred and were the main source of power.  For a warrior to be without one – that was unthinkable!  Unless, that is, the warrior were an outcast…his tail severed off by those who wanted him to leave the planet and wander aimlessly through space for the remainder of his life.  Due to this well-known fact, it wasn't unusual for Kuririn to be labeled as an outcast.  This was because he was different.

                And being different was bad on Vejita-sei.

                It made Kuririn stick out too much.  So, after many times of simply overlooking the diminutive teenager, they would finally notice him and he would become the brunt of their jokes.  However, over time he got used to this.  He had learned to accept the situation as it was and eventually began to believe that he was no good – just as he was told everyday. 

                At that moment, though, the warrior in training was having a moment of peace to himself.  The other boys were off trying out for the annual tournament – a requirement for any warrior (male or female) to graduate.  Suddenly, the thought of the grueling battles that were being fought sent shivers down his spine and he drew his knees up to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.  To think that he had been participating in such an ordeal not even an hour ago!

                After letting out a slow, ragged breath he relaxed a little and his arms hung limply at his sides.  He decided he would enjoy the peace and quiet while he could and try not to dwell on his earlier situation and his ultimate humiliation.  Before he had a chance to fully relax himself and absorb the undisturbed scenery about him, he heard a twig abruptly snap.

                Immediately, he was thrown out of his wandering thoughts and into the reality of chaos and confusion.  Kuririn's deep, ebony eyes flew open and they darted about his surroundings in anxiety.  "Who's…who's there?"  He called out, trying to sound bold.  Another twig snapped in response.  The bald student jumped to his feet and once again he observed the environment.  He saw no one. 

                Just as he was about to dismiss whatever he heard as his imagination or a stray animal wandering about, a tremendous blow hit him in the side, knocking him down to the grassy floor.  Needless to say, he had the wind knocked out of him and a panic filled him as his lungs momentarily failed to replenish.  Strong arms pinned him against the ground and they prevented him from getting free, squirm as he might.

                Realizing that his efforts were futile, he finally ceased his struggling and lay still beneath the sturdy hands that had the terrible grip on him.  His eyes were squeezed shut and before he could open them, he heard an innocent laugh sound from his captor.

                "Gotchya!"

                  The voice sounded all too familiar – in a good way, mind you.  Wearily, Kuririn opened one eye to find a larger boy peering down at him, seemingly interested in what he had caught. 

In appearance, he was the complete opposite of our Kuririn.  He had hair -- lots of it.  It shot out in different directions, too.  Kuririn was never sure if this was simply because it was stuck that way or if the boy just never took care of it.  The funny-haired boy was much bigger and taller than Kuririn was as well.  Then there was the boy's furry, monkey-like tail.  Because he -- and most normal Saiya-jins like him -- possessed a tail, he had much more strength and power reserved than Kuririn.  This, of course, was something Kuririn wished he had most of all.

"K-kakarotto!" he sputtered at last.  In response, his captor lightheartedly grinned.

"I got you good, Kuririn!"  Kakarotto, the abnormally silly Saiya-jin laughed with delight.  Kuririn on the other hand was not so pleased.  The larger of the two boys could easily read it in the other's expression.  "Aw, c'mon.  There's nothing wrong with a little fun!"  He gave his best smile and finally, Kuririn gave in and cracked a grin of his own.

After getting over the initial shock of being pounced upon, Kuririn felt immense relief flow through him.  He would much rather be tackled by Kakarotto than any of the other boys.  This was largely due to the fact that Kakarotto was always careful not to damage his little (and only) friend and he always meant it in good fun.  His other peers, however, weren't so careful and events that followed after he was pinned were usually not pleasant to watch. 

By now, Kakarotto was off Kuririn and was helping the smaller student to his feet.  "I was looking all over for you!" said the black haired Saiya-jin cheerfully.  Kuririn looked at his friend quizzically.  "Yeah," he went on, nodding his head all the while,  "your grandpa sent me out to get you!"

"Grandpa…?  I wonder why--" Kuririn suddenly stopped in mid sentence.  "Oh, no."  His voice became very small.  "I'll betchya he heard about what happened today at tryouts…"

"Tryouts?"  Kakarotto scratched his head in thought.  "Oh!  Oh, yeah, tryouts!  I forgot about those.  So that's where you got all of those cuts and stuff!  I'm really sorry I couldn't come for that, but Radditsu made me do all of these chores for him."  For a moment, Kakarotto's usually happy face flickered with immense disappointment.  "I'm sure you did really good anyway!"  He beamed again.                          

"I wouldn't be so sure."  Along with his spirits, Kuririn's whole frame seemed to sag as he gestured towards his injuries.  "It…it was horrible, Kakarotto.  I did really bad…Grandpa won't even want to look at me for weeks!" 

Always eager to lift Kuririn's hopes, Kakarotto tilted his head with curiosity and raised an eyebrow.  "I find that hard to believe.  Maybe you're just being too hard on yourself?  I mean you worked really, really hard in training!"

"Yeah, well…" Kuririn averted his eyes to the ground.  "I know the techniques…it's just that…" He really didn't want to talk about tryouts right then.       

Kakarotto, either getting the subtle hint or simply losing interest in tryouts for the moment, suddenly said, "Hey!  I'll race you!"

Kuririn groaned.  "Kakarotto…you know you always win."

A playful grin formed onto the good-natured Saiya-jin's face.  "So?  It's still fun!"  Before Kuririn knew it, his friend was dashing through the forest, jumping over branches and other obstacles, an innocent, child-like laugh floating behind him.

"Wait for me!"  The smaller boy chased after Kakarotto instinctively, feeling the warmth of the sun and the cool leaves brush against his skin.

                …The last thing he wanted was to be left in that dreadful place all alone…

Black walls stared menacingly at him.  The charcoal atmosphere of the room suited his brooding mood well.  Fierce flames crackled and sparked in the fireplace before him, but the brilliance of the fire seemed almost suffocated by the immense gloom that flittered through the abandoned hallways and deathly silenced rooms.  He felt old, decayed, wasted, and depleted. Perhaps this was because he was indeed all of these things.  Gently, his aged and withered hand stroked his snow-white beard with strained thought.  Even though the action was a short and simple one, he could have sworn he heard his bones creak.

                He laughed bitterly to himself as his charcoal colored eyes gazed into the dancing flames that mocked him with all of their life and exuberance.  How was it possible to hear your bones creak when you, yourself, were probably growing deaf as the months wasted away?  Bushy eyebrows furrowed together while his mind tried to recall the major events that had engraved themselves into his ancient life. 

                "Kuririn…"

                Not even a brief moment had passed after he had uttered that name when the door towards the left of the murky room slid open.  Golden beams of sunlight fell into the house, allowing light to seep into the far corners of the once darkened room.  The fire quivered with delight.  Ah, yes.  Kuririn.  The old man had sensed him coming long ago, hadn't he? 

                "Grandfather," a boy's solemn voice came from behind him.  "Kakarotto told me that you needed to speak to me."  The elderly, former warrior kept his back facing Kuririn as he continued to stare into the flames.

                "That is correct, Kuririn."  His voice was thin and frail.  It seemed even more so than that very morning and this concerned the short student greatly. 

                "Hello, Neab-san!"  Kakarotto's voice cheerfully rang before the room took on a happier glow. 

                Kakarotto – the child who had been dropped on his head as baby, never acting quite right again.  The old man heard the strange Saiya-jin call out his name and his eyebrow twitched.  He knew for certain that he had not sensed the incredible fighter and his dulled senses began to worry him.  But he made no action that would have indicated this. 

                "Kakarotto.  You sound…cheerful…as usual,"  the ancient man (known as "Neab" to the students) slowly spoke. 

                "I'm happy today, Neab-san!"  Of course.  Kakarotto was always happy.  But then…who could possibly be happy on a place like Vejita-sei?  Maybe the poor boy was simply fooling everyone, including himself.  Maybe no one would ever know.

                "Of course you are, Kakarotto," Neab answered carefully.

                "Grandfather?"  Kuririn queried quietly as he took a step inside of the room.

                "Oh, yes…Kuririn."  Neab cleared his throat and stroked his beard again.  "Do you recall a medic named Aisay?"  There was a moment of silence before Kuririn spoke.

                "Yeah.  Yes, I remember him, Grandfather."  A clearly confused Kuririn blinked.  He had visited him on many occasions when he was younger and more prone to disease.  Aisay, however, being the brilliant Saiya-jin medic that he was, was able to form a certain type of medication to help his illnesses.  After that, it was a rarity for him to become sick.  When Kuririn had first met Doctor Aisay, he had been very skeptical, seeing how Saiya-jin medics were few and far between.  Even so, Neab had paid him well, and so he had done his very best.  The fact that Neab and Aisay had served together in the army for a brief time had probably helped somewhat, too.

                "Aisay is dead."               

The words briefly bounced off from wall to wall, creating an eerie echo. 

Aisay is dead.  Kuririn blinked once…and then twice as he handled that small sentence in his 15 year-old mind.  Aisay was certainly no close friend of his.  He was no one he knew even mildly well.  Doctor Aisay, the crazy Saiya-jin medic, was simply a vague shadow almost lost in the depths of his memory.  Why was his grandpa so troubled by his death that he would go out of his way to summon him just to inform him of it?  Kuririn certainly wasn't troubled about it.  On Vejita-sei, everyone died at one point or another. 

Realizing that he was expected to say something, Kuririn opened his mouth to speak.  However, Kakarotto beat him to it.

"Did you know him really well, Neab-san?"  He inquired innocently.  There was a brief pause on the old Saiya-jin's part.

"No.  No, I did not, Kakarotto," he finally answered.

Now Kuririn was especially confused.  If his own grandfather didn't know him that well, then why did he appeared so bothered by his death?  Even when Neab's brother had died, the mourning period was very brief, and then the old man had moved on with his life.  Death was apart of the life of a Saiya-jin, or any creature in the universe. 

Of course, Kuririn had never lost anyone he was close to, so he didn't know what it was like to cope with a family member's death or anything of the like.  Sure, there would be acquaintances that would finally graduate, and they would be shipped off to some sort of combat area.  Most of the time, they were never heard from again.  But that was to be expected. 

Even so, Kuririn hated the idea of death.  He didn't understand why so many Saiya-jins looked forward to that part of the life cycle. 

"Did he…die…in a combat area, Grandfather?"  Kuririn asked unsurely.  Neab mutely nodded.  It was just as he had thought, then. 

"He had left for just a few weeks.  No one bothered to find a replacement for him, Kuririn.  But now…I suppose they'll have to, won't they?"  Neab spoke at last, but with a sense of uneasiness.  Kuririn and Kakarotto exchanged puzzled looks.

"Well, yeah, Neab-san," Kakarotto said bluntly.  "They'll have to find another medic right away.  Especially with the tournament tryouts and all…" Kuririn's eyes widened as he stared at his best friend with shock, hurt, and a little bit of betrayal evident in his eyes.  "Oops…!"  Kakarotto quickly covered his mouth with his hands while his dark eyes darted around the room.

Kuririn inwardly groaned as Neab looked up from the dancing fire.  "Tournament tryouts," he said slowly.  "I almost forgot about those.  Kuririn…you didn't go to tryouts, did you?"  Kuririn blinked again with confusion as he felt his body tremble. 

Relax, Kuririn!  He told himself sternly.  "Of c-course I went, Grandfather," he stated meekly.  "Just as you told me to."  It was then that Neab slowly stood up, his robes dirty from the dust they had collected from the floor.  He stood with difficulty, a clear sign of his age.  Once upon a time, he had been very tall, but as he had grown with age, his body had visibly shrunken.  Now he was only a few feet taller than Kuririn was.

Neab gradually turned around and faced the bruised and battered Kuririn.  There was an awkward moment of silence, save the occasional gulping on Kuririn's part.  Sweat ran down his face, making his bloodied cuts sting even worse.  Neab, however, maintained a blank face as he tried to absorb all that he was seeing. 

Kakarotto knew full and well what was going to happen.  Neab was going to take a menacing step forward, and tell his poor friend about his past as a revered trainer, teacher, and warrior.  He was going to tell him how he expected the same from Kuririn, how humiliating it was to have such a boy for a grandson.  The 14-year old Saiya-jin was more than ready to grab Kuririn's hand and make a run for it, before fists began to fly like they usually did. 

But none of that happened.

Instead, Neab's eyes furrowed together in frustration.  His charcoal colored eyes flickered, but with an emotion other than anger.  "You'll have to see a medic to get that taken care of, won't you?"  Kuririn stumbled back, as if he had been hit.  What was going on here? 

"Y-yes."

 "Don't."  The order was firm and direct.  "I can take care of that just as well as any old doctor."  He made a fist and narrowed his eyes.  Kuririn swiftly nodded, wanting nothing but to get out of the old house and run free outside with Kakarotto.  "I'll take a look at those injuries later.  I'm busy thinking right now."  He slowly turned around and sat down upon the floor again, his whole frame seemingly sagging down in a downtrodden fashion.  "Besides – the pain would do you good."

Kuririn gulped again and quickly nodded again, though he was so shaken that he didn't realize that Neab was no longer facing him. 

"Can we go now, Neab-san?"  Kakarotto asked, clearly tired of the whole affair and of seeing Kuririn in such a terrible state.

"Fine.  Just get out of here," Neab answered wearily, his eyes closing in deep thought.  The two teenagers didn't have to be told twice.  He heard them suddenly run out of the house, the door slamming shut behind them.  The sunlight sharply died away into a dark nothingness and the flickering flames quivered again.  All was just as it had been before they had even thought about entering.  His gloomy mood returned.       

***

End Chapter One

***

More to come!  Remember: feedback is appreciated immensely!  ^^