Put on the planet Vegetasei. Kakarot managed to purge earth of the filthy humans, but he took some samples for scientific experimentation, mostly females. It turned out that these females were good for breeding and that's what they were used for. Despite the fact that he was only a third class Saiyajin, because of his discovery he was given a female. This is the story of the human/Saiyajin offspring.

Slashy Slashy! You no likey you no readie!

Drafted!

As he sat in the corner of his prison he put his head on his knee with a sigh. Part of the young demi-Saiyajin told him to kick and scream in attempts to break free of his prison, the other half told him it was only an over nighter and to keep his mouth shut. This was most likely the human side that always got him in trouble all the time.

Still, Goten's mind protested against the unfairness of it all. Just because he'd beaten some of the prince's high guard in a fight, they'd gotten infuriated, ganged up on him, "Beat up," the arrogant Saiyajin, and tossed him in the prison of minor infractions to cool off.

Not that he'd done anything wrong in the first place, but he was considered a tad cocky despite the warnings of his brother, but he never saw a reason to feel otherwise. His family, despite the fact that they liked to keep a low key profile, could beat any opponent they'd been put against for years. Of course, they'd been wary of the royal family and some of the higher ranks, in fact he wasn't likely to fight with any of the higher ranks, but after feeling the low power rankings he couldn't- for pride's sake- turn down the fight.

So that's why he was cold in the corner of a prison instead of in his warm house with his family eating or doing something important. He sighed and hoped the guard would be up to let him out soon.

It was when the door to the hall he was in opened, allowing a beam of light to shine in he heard a wave of talking move through the cells. He heard the steps of three heavy footed guards and then…Then something that interested him. A warrior who walked with what sounded like more grace than he or his brother.

His head perked up and he looked into the darkness with narrowed eyes wishing he had more of the nocturnal vision his human blood deprived him of. He reached out to feel for Ki but found he was incapable of feeling this fourth presence.

He stood up next to the bars and stared out only to see three. Saiyajins, none of which could possibly be the stealthy warrior he had heard walking down the hall. Nonetheless, he figured such a high class presence wouldn't be concerned with the likes of him. He grinned at the three stoic soldiers.

"Hey guys! Here to let me out?"

They didn't appear to be in any mood to smile- or endure his smiling. "Son Goten, you fought with and defeated the royal guard of prince Trunks?"

He grinned nervously. "Yeah…About that?"

"You're to report to the royal training hall at sunrise. Due to your new show of skill you've been drafted as the prince's new sparring partner."

"…What?"

Something was to be said of a main who either permanently maimed or killed any and all opponents. And agreeing to be the prince's sparring partner was like resigning oneself to death.

His mouth was dropped as he sputtered even as the cell was opened and he was released. "But- That's impossible! I'm a lowly third class warrior!" he protested hoping that perhaps this had been some horrible, horrible mistake that he could get out of with the right, "I'm too lowly to spar his royal white gloves,'

"It's no mistake. You rank is known of, but you've proved worthy to be the prince's sparring partner, though, I don't assume that arrangement will last long." said the guard allowing his first horrible smile to show through. "In fact, since you have most likely never been to the palace or the royal training rooms, we've been told to escort you there today, after which you can go home until summoned."

Goten's mouth was slightly open as he shook his head. "Uh uh. No way. I'm not in a high enough class and I don't have a death wish!" he said backing away with his hands up.
The three Saiyajin guards approached with now similar grins on their faces. From the looks of it he was far outclassed. He was the smallest Saiyajin in the cool-down cells, and he was at least on fourth the size of any one of the guards whom, to his surprise, were emitting very high Ki signals.

He walked back nervously. These Saiyajin were stronger than Trunk's royal guards, and despite previous insults, those Saiyajin were no slouches.

"Are you, perhaps resisting Son Goten?"

"Look guys-"

Apparently the wrong answer. He found himself dropped to his knees by two and being hit in the ribs by the third. He let out a cry of pain and fear as he realized all that could pass here. He struggled against the hold as he remembered why he got into so many fights. He was a youth of exceeding beauty with a flawless face and a slender body. And the only thing he could think of was how the upper ranks mentioned those factors in what he considered to be a rather inappropriate matter.

That's why when one of the guards landed a smack across his mouth he went into panic mode. He jerked against their holds sending one of them through the supposively indestructible walls before slamming his fist into his ribs with an animalistic fear that took pleasure in the sound of separating muscles and cracking bone.

He could vaguely hear the shouts of the other two guards as they tried to contain him and his own cries as his Saiyajin blood demanded that he reclaim his freedom. One more guard hit the wall. They cornered him and he was being hit before he put off a giant burst of energy.

He was aware that there was several more guards now, but these were just weak- and numerous. They crawled over him like ants. And he batted them away, bruising his knuckles with his desperation just to be free.

Then, the energy was back. Right behind him. He ceased all movements as he froze in instinctive raw terror. The arms were around his torso.

"Enough."

The calm cool voice should have been comforting, but for some reason he sensed true coldness in it, and it sent shivers and other strange sensations down his spine. He jerked about until he hit his captor in the jaw. His captor growled before slapping him across the face with strength he hadn't even encountered in his own family much less the royal guard. And as he was slammed into the ground he looked up to see the only thing his mind would accept.

Above him stood the crowned prince of Vegetasei. The demi-Saiyajin stared down at him with cold, ice cold eyes. The strange thought occurred to him before he went into the realm of darkness. This prince was perfect. With his silver purple hair, cool blue eyes, a perfect body…but above all that, that cold someone cruel face. Afterwards when he thought about it, he would theorize that it wasn't pain but fear that sent him into the realm of unconsciousness.

"He may have beaten my guard, but his Ki is lower than yours," said Vegeta sounding rather annoyed with his son's request.

"His is the closest to mine I've found, other than yours and you haven't got the time to waste sparring with me as often as I need it to train," said Trunks.

Bulma frowned and clicked her tounge at her son and her husband. Sometimes they were so alike it was frightening. As were their goals to grow stronger. Trunks had apparently found a low class Saiyajin with a Ki signature that was higher than that of the royal guard- which was second to only him and his father. He wished to make the Saiyajin his official sparring partner.

She put her small hand into that of her husband's. "Maybe it's a good idea," she said quietly. "If he has enough potential then he can be groomed to be Trunks' new royal guard since clearly they've proved themselves unworthy by being beaten by a third class Saiyajin." she said smoothly.

She could tell Vegeta was thinking about it and his son refused to break eye contact with him. In truth, she didn't see the point of the guard if they couldn't even beat the person they were trained to protect but there was something about the desperation of Trunks' request that told her refusal would only lead to her son getting himself into unnecessary trouble.

"…I will allow it. But the third class had better remember his place, or it will be shown to him."

Trunks smirked and sunk into a bow. "Thank you father,"

He shot a look to his mother which held his true gratitude before walking out. Bulma sighed and leaned on her husbands arm wondering what she'd just caused.