Hi! After a crazy two years, I finally found the motivation to start writing again, and finally got back into this beautiful fandom! Ofc as many of you probably figured out, I don't own any Dragon Ball media or the characters portrayed in it. They all belonged to Akira Toriyama. This is purely something silly I wrote for entertainment, and hopefully for yours as much as mine!
I wrote this on my young, and I'm a little rusty, so if there's any issues I should know about, feel free to point it out! I read every comment, suggestion, etc.
Have fun!
Being special can either be a compliment or an insult, depending where you're from.
In Vegetasei, it's never the former.
Gine learned the difference painfully young, when she thought stars burned brightest on her planet's skies than they did anywhere else, and her father's puppet shows were more fascinating than any gritty epic war story, and King Vegeta's statue was the tallest peak in the world. When everything big is huge and everything that glitters is gold and every word is sunk into the brain forever.
" Why are you so weak?"
She didn't know what her purpose was when she walked into this room; An enormous space of white with a floor of squares, sinisterly empty except for big windows and the pitter-patter sound of small feet running around. What she did know is that this place was too clean for children like them, but it won't stay clean for very long, and that she was the oldest, yet painfully small compared to the rest.
"…I'm not? I can lift heavy animals, carry my papa when he's hurt, and I can fly really fast."
"All of us can do that; You're not special," the boy in front of her is round and big and strong. Worst of all, he knows it, too. "I'm asking why you aren't with the older kids. At your age, you should've scored a purge by now."
Purge. She shivers. She hates that word. "I just… I'm not ready for that."
A terrible smile, wide and sharp and rotten blossoms over the boy's face, and his tail waggle with excitement. "I am."
Practically, she crawls home that day, every last drop of energy beatean out of her. There's pitying looks from adults, she can tell even through the red of her eye, incredulous too, quiet questions of Rikku, her father, passed among them. Maybe Gine was different, but her father was, too. Whatever her world considered average, she was below, and her father bested.
The door to her house is opened almost instantly. Maybe her misery and loneliness has a stench, a foul smell that burns the nose a mile wild. Or maybe her father sensed the weakest power level around and knew she returned home, embracing her immediately, an unusual habit for a normal Saiyan, much less a Saiyan father. They have no children. Just soldiers.
She looked nothing like him; He was the biggest man she's ever known, both in spirit and size, shoulders almost blocking the entry and forehead touching the top. She copied his hair, spiky and long to his ankles, same shade as his eyes, and the smile he never wore except when with her, but nothing else. "Oh, my poor cub. My Gine."
"…You're mean," she hiccupped then, globs of bitter water leaking down her round cheeks, her small punch drumming against his chest. "You're mean. You- You knew what they'd do to me and you sent me there. Why? I'm not like them, I'm not, and you knew."
Rikku only hugged tighter, like someone might snatch her away, and hid them in the safety of their home. Heavy silence hugged both of them like a blanket and burned them like fire with oil, Gine thought, even while a cool substance of herbs licked at her wounds by her father's gentle touches.
"You are like them," Rikku broke the silence, finally. The sadness in his tone hurt to hear. "You're just a kid who doesn't know what she's doing. But Gine…I want you to listen," her shoulders almost gave out under his hands, but she held his gaze. She had to. "If I had a choice, there's no one I would rather be than you. You're kind and good, even if our world thinks you shouldn't be. You have heart. And that's a power no amount of training can grant you."
"Papa is good and kind too," she quickly said. "That's why people are so nice to you, right?" All she got was a smile with nothing behind the eyes. He never liked talking about his status. Living like a low class, treated like royalty, quiet like a ghost.
"Let me give you some advice; Respect, you give when earned, and accept only when it's genuine. Except for the free food. You always take free food." That got a giggle out of Gine, paired with her aching face. "Now come on, let's get this dirty space slug in the bath."
She obediently followed but stopped short. " But papa! My clothes are all torn up! We should fix them before I go again tomorrow!"
Then, deep as the grave and twice as lethal. "There's no tomorrow."
He blessed and cursed her that day.
Gine never sees that white room again except in her nightmares; Terribly embarrassing, some would think, to have at her age, especially when she had essentially nothing to be haunted about; Some of her friends, the ones who didn't mind associating with a meat distributor, low-class warriors who settle for small jobs and decent credits, would tell her about stomach-turning stories.
Last words, last fights, last breaths lost in a flash of light and energy. Now that was worth losing sleepover. "Seriously, Gine," they'd sigh, tired and spent, lying boneless on the table or chair after long missions. They came back greyer and hollow each time, but nothing her famous stew couldn't fix. "You're lucky. Sometimes I wish I couldn't fight."
She'd usually say nothing to that, except ask them if they'd be willing to learn all hundred different ways to cook and skin a million species, and maybe lose a finger or two handling ten different knives for each kind. That'd shut them up fast.
"I still don't get it, though. What's the point of your father training you every day if he won't let you waste anyone? I imagine with his training, I'd be a piece of cake, even for you."
"Wish I could say the same, but I heard getting punched in the face is bad for your skin," Dodging the military left plenty of time for Gine to learn her way around a knife. At that point, she didn't even need to look at the product, instead turning to her fellow Saiyans, concern pooling in her belly. "Speaking of my father, have you seen his pod? He should've been back by now. It's been a week."
It was fairly unusual for two reasons; Her father, by Saiyan standards, could've retired due to age. There was no point in keeping festered meat on the table when you could have a fresh one, still uncut and waiting to be chewed up and spat out. Secondly, even past his prime, her father never needed more than three days to complete a mission.
A mission he still needs to take. Because of her.
The Saiyan with the name Tayto shrugged, snacking on a spoonful of Yakaran steak. He was large and his hair reminded Gine of wild grass Rikku's training grounds surrounded. "I dunno. Maybe he got the wrong brief. Frieza's team never gets that shit right these days. "
"I know, right? Ugh. Last time, me and my squad were scheduled to wipe out a planet full of weaklings slugs. But when we get there, what do you know? Advanced tech, armies of angry soldiers, the whole eight yards. Seriously. Blasting those fuckers out of existence was the highlight of my week. Can't wait for you to know what that's like."
The small female could only laugh nervously, avoiding eye contact, knots painful and tight around her insides. Of course. That's the story every year.
No one truly knows Gine isn't enrolled. No one truly knows the meat clever she picks up everyday is permanent, not temporary. That she's only a soldier in a file, nothing more. Her father made sure of it. Power may not be everything, according to him, but it was a satisfying servant when needed be.
And those who do know, don't live long enough to judge her on it.
That was another page in her long list of reasons why she detested war, and battles. Your friend today could be a corpse tomorrow. It was terrifying, how easy you can become a memory. Perhaps that was why Rikku worked alone. It was how he liked it, he said, but Gine had to disagree. The universe was lonely enough as it was. Who wouldn't want a hand to hold?
Her reply was cut off by ruckus coming from the market center. Gine's curious nature sparked, wondering who would start a fight in the middle of the day. It wasn't uncommon, by any means. Saiyans lived to fight and fought to live. It was their pleasure and their right to ruffle anywhere, anytime, but something seemed…Out of place.
She could feel energy rise, a protective instinct driving her to leap over the counter of her post, and with feline reflexes make her way to scandal, needing to know the source, and what attracted her to it. Her tail tightly hugging her waist, she pushed through the people gathered around the mayhem. Smallness could be useful too, she gussed.
The scene playing out in front of her had her stiff.
Firstly, the warrior surrounded by a group of nasty looking star rats is handsome. His hair looks spiky and weird but she wonders how it'd feel like in her hand, how it'd feel to tend to stiff muscles, how his handsome face would fall into her hands. The X shaped scar on his right cheek only drivens her further. On planet Vegeta, a scar is the mark of survivors.
Secondly, he's severly outnumbered, injured, and he can keep that scowl on all he wants, but can barely stand. "Come on, Bardock. Is a scouter really worth all this?" Bardock. It tasted right on her tongue. The man only held his incapacitated arm tighter, spitting blood without a word. "I think it fits me better."
"Trust me. Nothing of mine could fit you."
Struck a nerve.
The leader of the group hisses, arm thrown back and ready to land the final hit, blue beams growing in his hands, and Bardock prepares for impact but, -
The male yelps in pain as a knife flies in his direction, landing a mark across in his wrist. The others gasp, surrounding their boss, looking for the one responsible, daring them to come forward and face their wrath. The mysterious warrior doesn't say it, but he doesn't need to. His angry eyes rake over the crowd, challenging.
Gine may be weak, but she can take punches better than handing them.
"Four against one? Just how strong are you?" She asks, not the group, but the Saiyan man, whose eyes get big, a little, but just enough for her to notice, and nostrils flare; He's big. Certainly bigger than her, even in her perspective, but she feels even smaller by only being watched.
"NOSEY BRAT!"
"GET OUT OF THE WAY-!"
Gine gasps, instincts skyrocketing, body belonging solely to her inherent need to defend herself; Flipping herself backward, dodging the ray of light with a quickness even her old instructor would be impressed by, she hops from person to person, doing her best to avoid the attacks. A few curses here, a few hollers and cheers there, eventually she finds shelter in a high point.
Adrenaline pumps through her blood. It feels terrible. She's not scared but not at ease. A target, but safe. "You know, a scouter won't improve your aim!" She feels the need to shout, because Gods know, Gine's mouth is a bottomless hole to match the pit of her stomach. "Exactly how many credits would that ugly piece of junk get you?"
"Ugly, -!"
One of the men smirks, vile, suggestive, causing her nose to scrunch. "I think she's right, boss; Her pretty face's the real jackpot." Gine cannot help but flinch; She may not know these men, but she knows their kind. Thieves, deceivers, credit leeches, - nothing they can't sell. Nothing they won't sell. "How about you follow us quietly, and we might just let your boyfriend off the hook this time."
"He's NOT my-" Her breath is cut short as the afterimage of the man cuts in her line of vision. She freezes, unprepared, shocked, caught off guard, and the alien in front of her had every intention of using that. End her life right there, without breaking a sweat, with cold cruelty all Saiyans had except for her. She blocks, both arms raised, trying to soften the blow.
A blow that never comes.
Pain doesn't spread anywhere near her body. Her flesh is still pale pink and battle-free, not a scar in sight, no kiss of fire. Gine opens her eyes slowly, afraid she might already be dead, but all she can see is bulk covered by their race's trademark armor and a ridiculous haircut. Even so, with his back turned, she can feel his glare, and she's glad she's not on the receiving end of it like the poor fool in Bardock's grip, terrified and shaking.
"…You can have half the credits?"
"Half of nothing is still nothing."
It's impressive how far the alien is thrown, even with an injured arm, aimed straight at his teammates and send so hard through multiple walls they break wind, leaving a smokescreen of dust behind. Gine exhales. Her first fight.
"Oh, dad is going to kill me."
The man, - Bardock, - says something, but it's lost on her ears. She already slipped into unconsciousness, but doesn't feel the impact to the ground. Something fluffy tickles the skin of her arms. She falls with a smile.
Cliffhanger alert! I know, I know. I plan to write even longer chapters. This was just the epilogue, to kind of establish the tone, what kind of story it's gonna be? I'd love to hear your reviews and your thoughts so far! Hope you had a fun time, and stay tuned for more. Xoxo