I couldn't help myself, I just had to do a little epilogue. And then, because I still couldn't help myself, the epilogue got long. Epi-long. I'll see myself out.

"Whoa, isn't that guy from the Eleventh Universe? What was his name? Dipstick? Is he your prisoner?" Caulifla asked.

"My name isn't Dipstick and I'm not his prisoner!" the Pride Trooper protested.

The Saiyan tapped her chin. "But it was something like that, right? Diaper? Dishrag? Disco?"

"Dyspo!"

"I was close. Anyway, what are you doing hanging out with this justice nerd, Hit?"

"It's...complicated," the assassin said.

"I'm a Pride Trooper, not a 'justice nerd!' Show some respect."

Caulifla laughed in Dyspo's face. "I'm not gonna respect anybody who dresses like an action figure."

Cooler heads on both sides intervened before the bubbling conflict could explode. Hit grabbed the back of Dyspo's uniform and Cabba stepped in front of Caulifla, blocking her view of her apparent mortal enemy.

"Maybe it would be better if we didn't fight," Kale suggested quietly.

Caulifla scoffed. "It wouldn't even be a fight. This loser isn't worth my time."

"The two of you can settle it later," Hit said. "Behave yourselves."

Chastised, Caulifla wandered a short distance away and plopped down on a boulder. Kale joined her, leaving Cabba to deal with the unexpected visitors.

"To keep matters simple, I was training with Dyspo in the Eleventh Universe. Its Destroyer did not approve of my presence, nor of Dyspo inviting me," Hit explained. "We were both evicted."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. Just know you're both welcome here!" Cabba said.

"Thank you. If you can find us lodging, I will pay fair market value for it."

"You don't have to do that. You fought for this universe. The Defense Force can cover rent for-"

"I will pay for it," Hit repeated.

Cabba knew better than to argue. "What kind of place were you looking for?"

"The only specification Hit has is two beds in separate rooms," Dyspo "helpfully" provided.

Hit barely resisted the urge to punch the Pride Trooper. "He has to live with me. He doesn't know this universe and will starve otherwise."

"Uh-huh, that's the reason. So I don't starve."

This time Hit didn't stop himself from giving Dyspo a warning jab. "It would be best if you could locate something out of the way, preferably a place we could train. All of us, if you'd like."

Cabba's eyes widened. "You mean it? Both of you would train with us?"

Hit's half of the conversation had been too soft for Caulifla to hear, but Cabba's slightly raised voice and the word "train" brought her running over.

"Once Cabba finds a suitable location, you and Dyspo can settle your differences," Hit said. There was no denying or dissuading the manic glint in the Saiyan's eyes.

"Hell yes!" Caulifla exclaimed. "I wanna punch this bunny senseless!"

Cabba looked nervously at his fellow Saiyan. "I have to talk to a few people from the Defense Force, but I think I know a place. Is it alright for me to leave? It shouldn't take long."

"I can manage them," Hit said.

Again, Cabba knew better than to argue. He gave everyone a quick wave and then flew off.

"Now that the fun police are gone, let's do it!" Caulifla pointed at Dyspo, and then jerked her thumb toward the surrounding desert. "Come on, Dipstick, this spot is good enough."

"Still not my name," the Pride Trooper muttered.

"We're waiting for Cabba to return," Hit said.

Caulifla groaned but didn't protest. She instead fetched Kale and then began to interrogate Hit. If he wouldn't let her fight, she intended to make sure he kept her entertained in another way.

"Where'd you find this guy? And where have you been? You just disappeared after the Tournament."

Hit gave Caulifla the same information he'd already shared with Cabba. Instead of being satisfied with the truncated version, Caulifla pressed for more details.

"Okay, I get that you both got kicked out of his universe, but why couldn't you just dump him somewhere? There are a lot of planets out there. Why do you have to babysit him?"

"He saved my life," Hit replied. Dyspo was also a raging annoyance with a talented mouth who occupied far too much of his mind, but Hit wasn't going to share those tidbits.

"No way! You're just making that up that so I'll respect him," the Saiyan protested. "How could a little bunny ever save you?"

"There was a misunderstanding on the day I arrived. Top-"

"That's the huge guy with the mustache, right?" Caulifla interrupted.

"Yes. The future Destroyer of the Eleventh Universe. He was under the impression I'd come to murder his friends. He dealt with me accordingly."

"What happened? Did you two fight? I bet it was at least close, right?"

Hit shook his head. "It was not. I would have been killed if Dyspo didn't intervene."

The Saiyan groaned. "Hit, you gotta stop losing to those bastards from the Eleventh Universe."

"He did pretty good against Belmod, so don't beat him up too hard," Dyspo said.

"Who's Belmod?" Caulifla asked.

"My universe's Destroyer! How do you not know? You saw him at the Tournament of Power!"

"There were like a hundred people there, I'm not gonna remember a random guy from a universe I don't care about."

"I changed my mind, go enjoy yourselves in the wasteland." Hit waved the two feuding warriors off.

By the time Cabba returned, the desert had been blown full of holes, Caulifla had driven herself half insane trying to counter Dyspo's speed, and Hit and Kale had come to appreciate each other's silent company. The newly arrived Saiyan looked on in dismay as his teammate blasted a cliff to oblivion but missed her opponent entirely.

"Stop running away! That's so cheap! Cabba, don't just stand there, grab him and help me kick his ass!" Caulifla shouted as she flew by.

"That's not honorable," Cabba scolded.

"Oh no, are you gonna squeal to your master?" Caulifla asked sarcastically. "He'll chew me out for ignoring my 'Saiyan pride.'"

Cabba ignored the jab toward his beloved teacher. It seemed Dyspo was having too much fun taunting Caulifla—who was getting angrier and sloppier in her technique by the second—to care about his future home, so Cabba approached Hit.

"Is everything settled?" Hit asked.

The young Saiyan nodded. "But only if you like it, of course!"

"What is it and where is it located?"

Cabba pointed toward the distant mountains. "We've got a few lodges where the Defense Force does its cold weather training. There's plenty of space for sparring and it's a beautiful area. You don't have to worry about paying, either. You'd actually be doing us a favor if you could keep animals or bandits from breaking in. Last winter we had-"

The Saiyan's story was rudely interrupted by an earth-shaking explosion. Kale immediately began apologizing for the debris that rained down on everyone. Hit suspected it wasn't the first time the more sensible Saiyan had been forced to cover for her impulsive friend's actions.

"I'll handle this," the assassin said.

"No, please don't hurt Caulifla!" Kale begged. "Let me talk to her."

Hit had no plans to injure the fiery Saiyan, just to freeze her until Dyspo could leave with Cabba. Still, if Kale wanted to reason with Caulifla, Hit was happy to give her a chance.

Kale flew into the melee. For a second Dyspo thought he was about to get double-teamed—not that he doubted his ability to out-speed two or ten or twenty Saiyans—but Kale paid him no mind.

"I almost had him that time," Caulifla said, crossing her arms. "Why are you bothering me?"

"Because if you don't listen to me, Hit's going to 'handle' you." Kale pointed toward the assassin.

Caulifla winced. "Yeesh. Alright, let's call it a day. Hey, bunny, we'll pick this up tomorrow!"

Dyspo, looking as smug as Hit had ever seen him, jogged over and stopped next to Cabba. Caulifla and Kale returned to the sky and headed home, Caulifla making what Hit assumed was a rude hand gesture at Dyspo before she left.

"She's a real charmer," Dyspo said, grinning. "Tell her to stop by anytime she's itching for a loss."

"Cabba has found us a place to live," Hit said. "If you're done preening, we can go."

"Yep, I just need a second to grab my stuff. Any chance you wanna help me carry it?"

Always-helpful Cabba volunteered to be Dyspo's pack mule while Hit and his single bag waited with growing impatience.

A few minutes later, the three fighters touched down at the edge of a patchy forest. The air was cooler than in the desert and carried a faint whiff of pine courtesy of the scraggly conifers that dotted the area. Set apart from the trees so they wouldn't block any of the solar panels upon its roof was the Defense Force lodge.

Cabba opened the door and invited Hit and Dyspo inside. It was rustic, simply furnished, but far too cozy to be called austere. Hit imagined the lodge in the dead of winter, half-buried in snow, silent except for the crackle of logs burning in the fireplace and Dyspo complaining about the cold.

"I'd be more than happy to show you around," Cabba said.

"We'd appreciate it," Hit replied.

The first stop was the kitchen and dining area. There was a stove, sink, refrigeration unit, and a sturdy table with benches on either side. Dyspo decided the table was the perfect place to drop off his luggage.

"We clean out the pantry every spring but I'll bring supplies," Cabba said. "Just make me a list."

Dyspo whistled as he took a look around the bare storeroom. "We'd need a hell of a long list to fill this place."

"Saiyans do like to eat. My master says it's the same way in Universe 7."

Cabba's statement reminded Hit of something. "A few weeks ago, did you take part in a competition against that universe?"

"Yes, a pie-eating contest. We lost, but at least Lord Champa wasn't angry with us. He said his brother cheated by bringing a magical warrior."

Hit wasn't exactly a fan of magic—the alleged wizard Dr. Rota had been as useful as a screen door on a submarine during the Tournament of Power—though he was curious to hear how it could be used to win an eating contest.

"The warrior's name was Majin Buu. He ended up eating all of his own pies, then his teammates' pies, then ours, and then he turned a table into pie and ate that too."

"He ate a table?" Hit asked, dumbstruck.

"After he turned it into a pie," Cabba confirmed. "I guess that's the ability that makes him magical."

"I see." Hit made a mental note to investigate this "Majin Buu" and his bizarre appetites the next time he found himself in the Seventh Universe.

"All this talk about pie is making me hungry," Dyspo said. "Let's finish the tour and get that list done."

Cabba picked up his pace. He opened a door and revealed a stack of folded camping cots and accompanying mattresses. "You can move the cots anywhere. We usually sleep in front of the fireplace for warmth, but that won't be a problem this time of year. And I know the mattresses look thin, but I promise they're comfortable."

Hit had slept on the bare ground for a month. He wasn't going to complain.

"There are towels, pillows, and blankets in the linen closet over there. And this is the bathroom. There's always plenty of hot water thanks to a nearby hot spring."

Hit nodded and motioned for Cabba to continue. Dyspo took a moment to sneak a peek of the facilities. It was a more communal washroom, the three showers divided from each other by nothing except flimsy plastic curtains. Removing them or flipping them out of the way would be a two second job. With all that space, he and Hit could really-

"Maybe tonight, if you behave yourself."

Dyspo jumped at the voice suddenly in his ear. "I hate that you can sneak up on me, but I love your ideas."

The two returned to the tour, Cabba none the wiser. The Saiyan was in the middle of explaining upgrades the Defense Force had made to prevent a repeat of two years ago, when rodents had gnawed through key wiring for the solar panels and had caused a blackout in the middle of a blizzard.

"So that shouldn't happen again," Cabba summarized. "But if you hear anything crawling on the roof, it would be a good idea to chase it off."

"Hit's great at killing rats. He'll take care of it," Dyspo said.

"I think that's the most important points. We should have some paper-"

"Got it covered," the Pride Trooper said. He disappeared back to the kitchen, rummaged through his bags, and returned with a notebook and two pens. Dyspo tore a few sheets of paper from the notebook and handed Hit a pen and page.

"Let's see, let's see. Gotta have the essentials. Flour, veggies, all that jazz." Dyspo scrawled as he murmured to himself.

Hit's list grew at a much slower pace, both because he tried to avoid duplicating anything Dyspo had written, and because he was used to living simply. Even before the joys of Rat Planet, the assassin hadn't been one to splurge on fine wine and caviar.

"Did they domesticate any kind of poultry on this planet? Yeah? Perfect. I could really go to town on some eggs. Maybe we could get a couple of live birds and have fresh eggs every morning. What do you think, Hit? Wanna give up being an assassin and start a farm with me?"

"No."

The Pride Trooper shrugged and added hens to his list. "I guess I'll just have to be a single parent."

Hit handed his list to Cabba. The Saiyan read it and let Hit know it wouldn't be a problem to obtain anything he'd requested.

"Keep the receipts," Hit said. "I'll reimburse you for both the items and your time."

Dyspo continued to scribble away like a novelist struck by inspiration. Hit gave him a few more minutes to wrap up. When the Pride Trooper showed no signs of being near the finish line, Hit decided enough was enough. He snatched the paper from Dyspo, ignored his protests, and handed everything over to Cabba.

"If it's nonsense, expensive, not readily available in this universe or on this planet, or involves rugs or plants, forget it," Hit said.

The Saiyan's eyes widened a bit as he scanned Dyspo's novella of a list. "I'll do my best."

Cabba steeled his nerves and repeated himself, this time with more confidence. "I'll do my best!"

With his resolution made, Cabba was out the door. The moment he was gone, Hit glared at Dyspo.

"You're taking advantage of his hospitality," the assassin said.

"Not as bad as you think," Dyspo replied, far more mischievously than Hit liked.

"What was on that list?"

"The first page was just the essentials. Food, mostly, plus the humble beginnings of my farm. The second page…"

"Don't toy with me," Hit warned.

"Yeah, yeah, 'the blood of thousands,' I know. I'm still not telling you."

"I could beat it out of you."

Dyspo shrugged. "You could try. Or you could get one of those cots set up and spend the next couple of hours making me forget I got tossed from my own freaking universe instead of getting the promotion I dreamed about since I was a kid."

"Your second page was a humble request for time and privacy," Hit guessed.

"Damn, you are sharp. Don't worry, I didn't make it too obvious. I just told him not to rush because you and I had some things to discuss. And to knock and wait for the all-clear before coming in."

Hit face-palmed. Cabba was perhaps a bit naive, but not to the extent he couldn't put two and two together and arrive at the conclusion Hit and Dyspo were more than roommates. At least Cabba could be relied on to keep his mouth shut around his fellow Saiyans.

"You can get the cot out yourself," Hit said.

Dyspo happily did just that. The cot was simple to unfold, its legs locking into place with a click. The mattress was next, and then a blanket and pillow.

Hit eyed the cot. It was perfect for someone of Dyspo's lanky proportions, not so much someone of Hit's size.

"That's going to collapse under us," the assassin predicted. "If I can fit on there at all."

"Nah, we'll be fine. You'll just have to get really close." To prove the cot could physically hold them, Dyspo stood on it and hopped a few times.

There would be no dissuading the Pride Trooper. Hit relented, and with a wave of his hand, motioned for Dyspo to lie down.

"That Saiyan kid wasn't lying; this mattress is comfy." Dyspo rolled onto his side. "Come on, Hit, the water's fine."

Without a word, Hit squeezed himself behind Dyspo. As expected, quarters were tight. The entire bed did not, however, collapse as Hit had feared it would.

"What would you like to do now?" the assassin asked.

"I was gonna ask for another round of the two-for-one special, if you know what I mean, but I didn't realize how tired I was until I got horizontal. It's rough once the adrenaline wears off, huh?"

Hit could only nod in agreement. The hour of rest he'd had was enough to keep him functional and on his feet, but not much beyond that. If there was to be any training—or adventures in the shower—he needed actual sleep.

"Keep your ears awake enough to hear Cabba," Hit said.

"You can count on me," Dyspo replied.

The assassin slung an arm over the Pride Trooper and pulled him even closer. As their bodies rested together, congruous and warm, Hit closed his eyes.

"Guess that cat was right."

On the cusp of sleep, Hit asked, "About what?"

"I'm really starting to like this universe, and I haven't even tried the food yet."

THE END (for real this time)

Thanks for reading.