Adult-FanFiction.org : Gundam, Beyblade, DBZ, FMA

Barracks	By : chayron Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 16996 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 1-Barracks
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39
- 40-Part 40
- 41-Part 41
- 42-Part 42
- 43-Part 43
- 44-Part 44
- 45-Part 45
- 46-Part 46
- 47-Part 47
- 48-Part 48
- 49-Part 49
- 50-Part 50
- 51-Part 51
- 52-Part 52
- 53-Part 53
- 54-Part 54
- 55-Part 55
- 56-Part 56
- 57-Part 57
- 58-Part 58
- 59-Part 59
- 60-Part 60
- 61-Part 61
- 62-Part 62
- 63-Part 63
- 64-Part 64
- 65-Part 65
- 66-Part 66
- 67-Part 67
- 68-Part 68
- 69-Part 69
- 70-Part 70
- 71-Part 71
- 72-Part 72
- 73-Part 73
- 74-Part 74
- 75-Part 75
- 76-Part 76
- 77-Part 77
- 78-Part 78
- 79-Part 79
- 80-Part 80
- 13
- 14
- 15
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.
Warnings: Alternate Universe. Yaoi (male x male). Goten x Trunks and vice versa. Other pairings.
Barracks
by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by quatreofdoom
Part 14
Goten was leaning against the wall inside the training hall, watching the other savars prepare for their tests in their ki gathering abilities. It was interesting to see. The air was charged with ki, the drill sergeant’s long hair crackling with sparks, everyone’s tails puffed out. Sometimes colorful blasts would miss their targets and rebound off the ki-proof walls, the Saiyans scattering in all directions to avoid them. The ki-blasts would bounce to and fro until the sergeant or another more powerful savar would disperse them or knock them back towards the marked targets where they would be absorbed.
There were a few noteworthy elites, but it was mostly Ario whom everybody watched. The air around the second-class was hissing and rippling with the ki he could draw and disperse in a flash. The target before him was already blackened, working hard on absorbing the energy.
Goten turned to the door where six officers with scouters appeared. In a second, their hair puffed out in all directions. Not bothering to smooth it out, they went towards the drill sergeant and started discussing something.
Sword fighting theory was over, so now there was more time for other disciplines. There were two savars who didn’t manage to pass the theory, but as far as Goten knew, most of the other savars in squad seven passed with flying colors. That's what being lectured by the prince did to someone. Nobody wanted to be subjected to that pissed off blue stare ever again.
Goten’s days off flew past in a blink of an eye. He still felt somewhat mournful about not managing to fully appreciate them. The first day, he spent the afternoon standing outside under the beating sun, then got drunk in the evening. The second day was spent copying notes. He wished he had done something more worthwhile although he had no clear idea what it should have been.
Finally, the signal to cease all activity was given and the three squads lined up in neat squares. The drill sergeant stood in front of them. He ruffled the papers in his hands, then raised them to his eyes.
“Savars who don’t need to take the tests are: squad five: Athara Rada; squad six: Ario Krameran and Jawara Lyra; squad seven: Hatora Somela. The rest of you, form seven lines in front of the targets.”
The sergeant gave a sign and the first seven savars moved towards the spots marked on the floor. There was no time for preparation, the savars being told to power up to their maximum and perform various types of attacks with their ki.
Both Ranvera and Toharu were among first savars to show their skills. Goten didn’t have a scouter, but even with the naked eye he could tell that Ranvera wasn’t doing so well. His ki-blasts were dimly lit and of average size. It was hard to discern the level of Ranvera’s ki without a scouter, but Goten figured that it was below average. It was quite a contradiction to Ranvera’s large build.
Goten’s eyes shifted from Ranvera’s back to Toharu. He was in time to see the short Saiyan releasing a pulsing red blast at his target. Not for the first time, Goten wondered where the seemingly short and slender man got all that energy from. His blasts and power-ups were nowhere as spectacular as Ario’s, but he was good in his own league.
Toharu and Ranvera ended their tests at nearly the same time. Toharu appeared to be content after he heard his results while Ranvera sheepishly ruffled through his short stubble at the look the supervising officer gave him. Toharu gave Goten a satisfied look as if to tell him 'beat that'. Goten chuckled at his friend’s ardor.
The third-class stepped forward as it was now his turn. The drill sergeant measured him from head to toe meaningfully, and Goten wondered whether the man had purposely chosen to stand next to the target he had lined up at.
“Well, are you any good at this, seamstress? Better than you are at sewing, I hope.”
“I wouldn’t put so many hopes in me, sir.”
The drill sergeant offered him a curt smile. “Nobody does.” He motioned with his hand towards the mark on the floor. “Now get on with it.”
Goten planted his feet on the black cross on the floor. He gave his drill sergeant a questioning look.
“What are you looking at me for? Power up to your maximum.”
“Yes, sir.”
Goten concentrated. After a month of suppressing his ki, it was a little unusual to feel it flowing through his body. It felt as if his limbs had been asleep for a long time, and only now the blood flow was being restored. Goten figured he should have done some warm-up exercises before this, instead of watching the other savars prepare for the test. Now, he could tell that there was something strange going on with his ki.
“What the hell are you doing?” the sergeant asked after watching Goten’s fluctuating ki for a few seconds.
Goten gave him a somewhat embarrassed look. “I’m sorry, sir. It just feels somewhat different after such a long break.”
The sergeant’s impatient glare told him he would not find compassion here. The man was clearly of the opinion that Goten was a pain in the ass.
Ignoring the sergeant’s frown, Goten powered up carefully to his usual maximum. He watched the sergeant put a tick next to “below average”. Goten thought that it was impressive that he could pass for a second-class, albeit a lousy one. And yet the current of his ki was unsteady, too ample, almost boundless. It was as if he had reached into a bottomless, overflowing pool.
“Now blast the target.”
“Yes, sir.”
Goten’s eyes fixed on the abused target about ten meters away from him. Kamehameha or Final Flash? He was adept at both of them. With a short cry, he let the wave of his ki overflow him, starting to shape it into a yellow blast; Final Flash had less syllables.
And then something went wrong. Goten had no idea why, he just knew that it was too late to do anything about it. It was as if someone had pulled a plug out. Instead of shaping into a ki-ball, the vast surge of his raw ki suddenly slipped out of his control. It felt as if he was being swallowed by a tsunami.
The unexpected swell of massive, unrestrained power made the officers’ scouters beep in a frenzy. The savars’ heads turned in the direction of Goten’s terrified scream. The sudden explosion cleared the space around Goten in a fifteen meter radius, lifting the savars of their feet and throwing them into walls, scattering them all over the training hall. When the dust and smoke cleared, Goten was lying on the ground, his seizing body covered in burns and forming blisters.
Goten’s throat and chest were burning. He could not breathe. Someone tried to roll him onto his back and he cried out in pain, resisting. Only a second later, when his arms were grabbed and restrained, did he realize he had been trying to claw through his throat and chest in hopes that it would somehow make it easier to breathe. He could feel something was running out of his mouth but could not tell whether it was vomit or blood.
Through the haze filled with pain and panic, he could hear someone shouting his name but could not make out voices. In his anxiety he did not even care who it was as long as they helped him. He did not want to die. The thought sent another excruciating spasm through his body.
“Goten! Goten, hey!”
“Stay back, you idiot!” One of the officers surrounding Goten shoved Kyon away. Kyon staggered, but was caught and pulled upright by Ranvera.
Toharu’s eyes went from Goten's convulsing body to nearby officer who was radioing to the medical bay for help. His gaze went back to the third-class, then rose this time to Ranvera, who was still unconsciously holding Kyon by his collar. Ranvera’s shaky hand was nearly strangling the shorter Saiyan in the process.
“Inform the taisa,” Toharu said not bothering to look around, knowing his lover was already behind him.
Wordlessly, Ario nodded and disappeared in the midst of clamoring and bustling savars.
Repeatedly cursing under his breath, Toharu continued to watch Goten thrash. The most nerve-wracking thing was that he knew he could not help Goten a bit. The only thing that could help him now was a regeneration tank.
“Don’t you dare fucking die on us,” he mouthed out a half-plea, half-threat.
During the commotion of shouting and shoving savars, Ario snuck out of the training hall unnoticed. He closed the door with a soft click and dashed straight for Headquarters. He covered the distance in several seconds, then showed his pass to the guards and entered the building. In a quick stride, he reached the landing and started hopping three steps at a time. He nearly knocked the shaii off his feet when the stairs merged into a corridor.
The prince staggered back into the corridor, Ario managing to grab the railing before he could tumble down the stairs.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” Ario apologized to the shaii who now was glaring down at him.
The shaii moved out of the saluting savar’s way, letting him climb the few stairs to the top. “What the hell is chasing after you? Get into trouble with elites again?”
“No, sir. It’s Goten. There’s been an accident. He’s been hurt.”
The shaii was already half-way down the stairs when he thought of asking where it happened. A little surprised, Ario sent him to the training hall, then hurried down the corridor in the opposite direction of the prince.
When the prince reached the training hall, the medics were already there. They gave the half-conscious savar a shot in the neck. In a few seconds, Goten stopped fighting the officers’ hold, the flinching lessening, his body now listless. An oxygen mask was put on his face. The shaii's senses picked up the smell of burnt flesh, hair, and clothing, as he made his way through the rows of staring onlookers. He arrived just as the medics started putting Goten on a stretcher. He was taken aback by the sight of Goten’s burnt body.
“Goten! Hey, Goten!”
“Sir, he can’t hear you; he’s unconscious.”
The shaii’s hand halted at the look the head physician gave him. He retracted his hand; it was obvious that it wouldn’t be wise to touch Goten.
Catching up to the medics who were now carrying Goten's stretcher towards the door, he sidled up to the head physician who was walking next to the stretcher. “What happened?” the prince inquired.
“A ki-management failure, sir,” the head physician answered.
“Will he be alright?”
The head physician, who was looking at a small screen, gave the prince a once over. He concentrated back on the screen, showing the prince the blinking scans of Goten’s vital signs. “He has burns all over his body, his lungs are seriously scorched and he’s suffocating. A regeneration tank should do the trick, though. It’s a typical case, sir.”
“Ah. Right. Really.”
Silently, the shaii followed the medics to the med bay. He felt sympathy for the third-class, as every rough shift of the stretcher caused Goten to wince. Once inside the emergency room containing the regeneration tanks, the medics started cutting Goten's clothing off. The shaii had no wish to watch them peel the clothes off Goten’s body, his lymph and blood oozing, thus he left to bide his time in the waiting-room.
Ten minutes later, the shaii realized that nobody was going to inform him about Goten’s condition. He reentered the emergency room to find the medics sitting at one of the operating tables drinking coffee. Five pairs of eyes concentrated on him, then the mugs and sandwiches were lowered onto the operating table and feet shuffled as they stood up, saluting.
“Sir?”
The shaii’s gaze went to the regeneration tanks behind them. Two out of eight regeneration tanks were filled, patients submerged in the precious liquid. Goten’s tank was the nearest to the window. Blue-greenish fluid was leisurely swirling around the unmoving savar’s body. His burnt and scorched tail was floating listlessly. The prince was relieved seeing the mask on Goten’s face clouding with warm breath and then becoming transparent again in regular intervals.
“How is he?”
The head physician turned around to look at Goten’s tank. “His condition is stable, sir. It might take a while, but we expect a full recovery.”
The shaii nodded. “That’s good.” He threw a meaningful look at the makeshift lunch table with sandwiches and coffee. “Well, don’t let me disturb you any longer, gentlemen.”
The medics looked at him awkwardly. They detected the sarcasm but their faces showed that they had no idea what a “gentleman” was. The shaii decided to leave it be and left the room. He closed the door with a soft click. Once the door was closed and he let go of the handle, he surrendered to the urge to lean against it. Letting out a long sigh, he rubbed his face with his hands.
“A ki-management failure, huh? What are you, a snotty five-year-old cub?”
The prince cursed softly then shook his head. He lowered his hands to his sides and raised his head. Two medics had stopped walking in the corridor and were now staring at him.
“Is everything alright, sir?”
The shaii pushed himself off the door. He nodded. “Yes, everything’s fine.”
He was already outside the medical bay when his thoughts returned to twenty minutes ago, when he had stumbled into Ario. What the hell had the second-class been doing in the headquarters? Why had he even been allowed to enter? Who had he been going to see?
Suddenly, the prince stopped in his tracks. Could it be that Ario had known how he would react? The shaii’s eyes widened, but further thoughts on the issue were cut off when he heard something buzzing somewhere above the base. Covering his eyes with his hand, he raised his head to look at the sky. He blinked as an arid gust of wind blew into his eyes. An aircraft was hovering over the other side of the base, landing on the launch pad.
Why the hell had nobody informed him about this?
Irritated, the prince started walking towards the aerospace center. He had reached Matilda when he saw two medics rushing towards him. The shaii’s sharp eyes counted quite a few stars on their shoulder straps. Important people.
Once again, why the heck had nobody informed him of this?
The medics’ reaction to him was quite similar, though their assessment was done in a different order. As usual, they eyed his hair first, before looking to his uniform and his shoulders.
“Sir.”
“Your Highness.”
The medics gave each other confused looks then averted their eyes to the prince expectantly.
“‘Sir’ will do just fine,” the shaii nodded. Now it was his turn to stare at them expectantly.
“What’s his condition, sir?”
The prince nearly asked who they meant, then turned around sharply and rushed back towards the medical bay, the medics following him closely. “He doesn’t look that good, but we expect a full recovery.” So they had really come for Goten. What the hell…? Well, as long as they believed that he had been informed about everything…
“Oh, that’s good, sir.”
“What exactly happened, sir?”
“I was told that it was a ki-management failure. There seems to have been an explosion.”
One of the medics cursed. “The damn brat is unbelievable. We never had so many problems with Gohan.”
“Yeah,” the other medic sniggered. “Except that the bastard died.”
“His death had nothing to do with the project,” the first medic protested.
The other shrugged.
The prince led them through the medical bay to the emergency room. The doctors there stood up again. Some of them were chewing.
“Bon appetite. I’m Dakora Mella. This is my colleague, Heda Rivjera. We are from National Security. Please ready the access to your database,” one of the newcomer medics said, already moving towards Goten’s tank.
Simultaneously, the doctors’ eyes shifted to their shaii who also seemed to be taken aback. The shaii cleared his throat. “You heard the man.”
The doctors saluted, then the head physician motioned at the row of the computers at the other side of the room. “Feel free to use them.”
“Any passwords?”
“Well…no? What for?”
The newcomer medics met each others’ eyes and grinned.
“I like this,” Dakora said, continuing to inspect Goten’s vital data on the regeneration tank screen.
“Uh-huh,” Heda agreed. He walked over to one of the computers and took a seat. His fingers started flying over the keyboard.
The shaii walked over to the makeshift lunch table. “Get me a few sandwiches and some coffee,” he said, taking one of the free spots which offered both a view of the tanks and the men from National Security
“Right away, sir.”
One of the medics took a dirty mug from the operation table and went to wash it, while the others started working on producing sandwiches.
“Well?” the prince inquired a few minutes later. He blew on his hot coffee, then took a bite of his salami sandwich. Chewing, he sipped the coffee again.
“Everything seems fine, sir. The staff here did a wonderful job. He’s recovering nicely. With the help of a regeneration tank, it will take three days at most,” Dakora assured him.
“So fast?” the shaii asked, incredulous.
Dakora nodded, but now the two agents were looking at him with mistrustful eyes. Heda stood up and started clearing the desk of the file copies he had made for his investigation. Dakora pretended to be very interested in the regeneration tank screen. The prince cursed himself mentally.
A few minutes later, Heda and Dakora were at the medical bay exit. “We’ll be waiting for the reports and a thorough analysis of the accident,” Heda said.
“Of course,” the head physician said, “but for that you’ll have to contact the headquarters.”
“No need,” the shaii said. “I’ll make sure that the necessary information reaches you.”
Dakora nodded gratefully. “Thank you for your cooperation, sir.”
The shaii shrugged.
The head physician sighed. “At your service, sirs.”
“Ah, yes.” Heda motioned with his head in the direction of the emergency room. “Don’t let the brat do whatever he did again.”
The head physician shrugged his shoulders. “It would be easier if I knew what he did. Now, on another note, I’m very interested in the pattern of his brainwaves. When I mentioned this to him, the youth said he knew nothing of this. Besides, it’s not on his case file. Care to explain, sirs?”
Heda and Dakora offered him blinding smiles. “No, not really,” Dakora said. He patted the doctor on his shoulder. “Sorry.” He became worried when the prince moved closer to them, his implacable blue eyes set on them with obvious curiosity. Strangely, the lavender-haired youth didn’t ask anything.
When National Security left, the shaii returned to the emergency room. The doctors had finished their picnic and emptied the room. The shaii stood in front of Goten’s tank, thinking. He felt guilty. What if this happened again? This was dangerous. He should have pushed the agents. They were obligated to answer him. On the other hand, he did not want to make his move yet. He didn’t know enough. He might create too many ripples, disturbing the currently calm waters and scaring the big fish away.
Nonetheless, there were things that he knew for certain: obviously, Goten was a part of some project, some experiment. Did it have anything to do with genetics? He could only guess, but that would explain a lot of the third-class’s oddities. He would have to talk to the head physician about those brain waves he had mentioned.
The aquamarine liquid swirling around the third-class’s naked body made the burns less glaring, smoothing all contours out. Or maybe Goten was already healing. The prince moved closer to the tank, but it did not make it easier to discern whether the burns were healing. He looked at the screen on the tank. The burn percentage on Goten’s body was already lower. Amazing.
The prince stood on tiptoe to see past the opaque strip that went across the glass, covering the third-class’s genitalia. The opaque strip was one of the Human's contrivances. As soon as regeneration tanks started to be exported to Earth, Humans decided to add that accursed strip for decency and requested that all further models would include the opaque line. The Saiyans and a few other nations had protested at first, arguing that it might also cover serious wounds in that region, but in the end, the strip had been added.
The shaii huffed, as his tiptoeing did not give him the desired result. He tried squatting down and looking upwards. Then he remembered that emergency rooms usually had surveillance cameras. Feeling his ears burn, he cleared his throat and stood up. He crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. Laughing softly at his curiosity, he looked at Goten’s face.
Well, all’s well that ends well.
The damn brat had given him such a scare! He had lost it, running into the training hall and then following him to the medical bay. Now here he stood checking out Goten’s nether regions.
Disbelieving, the prince stared at Goten. He uncrossed his arms.
“Well, fuck me!” he cursed.
As if on cue, Goten’s eyes opened. The prince suddenly felt glad that Goten hadn’t thought of waking up a few minutes earlier. It quickly became apparent that the third-class wasn’t conscious yet. Apathetically, his eyes slid over the emergency room, fixed on the shaii when he moved, then drifted off of him when he stilled. Testing, the prince waved his hand, and the dark eyes fixed on him again. A spark of recognition appeared in them, then they closed. The prince lowered his hand slowly.
“Fuck!” he repeated.
ooOoOoOoo
Determined, the shaii tried to ignore the wide-eyed, inquiring looks the savars gave him. He brushed past squad six, which happened to be doing push-ups on the training field next to the women’s barracks. His apparent indifference was of no use, as he received a similar share of glances from the other side of the training field where squad seven was doing sit-ups. Frankly, he had no wish to look at his left where he could hear squad five running one of their laps around the base.
Obviously their ki-testing was over. Too bad.
Seriously, one would think that all of them were waiting for his report. He was not obligated to report. Unless it was to the taisa, who would not want him to report because everyone would pretend that the guys from National Security hadn’t come. Never been here.
The shaii reached the headquarters and made the mistake of looking to his right. Kyon’s large, pleading eyes nearly made him stop in his tracks. Ranvera, who was holding down Kyon’s legs, was also staring at him, but there was something accusing in his eyes.
The prince’s hand reached for the door. He could feel the back of his neck prickling. He dropped his hand and turned around, heading straight for squad seven who – mostly – were just pretending to be doing sit-ups. Motioning for them not to get up, the prince squatted down next to Kyon who was fruitlessly lying on his back with his knees bent. Anxious, Kyon looked up at him from the asphalt.
“Oh alright, he’s okay, your damn Goten,” the shaii gave in. “Will be as good as new in three days or so.” He raised his head to look at the rest of the squad. “You heard that, you lot? Good as new.”
Rejoiced huffs echoed all around. Kyon’s head thumped against the asphalt as he closed his eyes in relief. Ranvera jumped to his feet from where he had been holding onto Kyon’s knees. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Toharu, the bastard’s alright!” he shouted in the general direction of squad five. “Goten’s fine, you hear me! Man, he’s fine, the fucker!” he laughed, waving.
Cheers and whoops echoed from the other two squads.
“Well, yes,” the prince drawled, scratching himself on his cheek absentmindedly. “I suppose he still has an opportunity to become a porn star.”
Were he not a prince, Ranvera would have told him to shut the hell up and finally let it go. As it stood now, he could only give him another accusing look. He rubbed the back of his head when the prince answered his look with a good-natured grin. All he could do was grin back.
ooOoOoOoo
“Owwww…” Goten groaned. He tried to turn onto his other side and moaned in pain again. He started rousing. His eyes blinked at few times then stayed open. Unsure, he stared at the white ceiling. Before he could sort out his thoughts and memories, an instinctive rush of panic swept over him. He sat up, which made him yelp. Trying to find the source of pain, he looked behind himself. His tail was missing quite a lot of hair. The tufts which were still attached were nearly black.
Stupefied, Goten blinked at it. How the hell had he gotten himself into a fire?! Then his memory came to life and started supplying him with answers.
“Ohyoustupidgodmotherfuckingidiot,” Goten poured out, slapping himself on his forehead. “I didn’t do it. There’s no way I… Crapfuckingtasticohgodkillmesomeone.”
“I see you’re feeling much better already.”
Through the grates of his fingers, Goten looked at the head physician. He removed his hands from his face to give the doctor a look filled with resigned self-loathing.
“Tell me, Doc, how in the hell did I manage to blow myself up?” Then he held out his hand to stop the head physician from talking. “No, maybe I don’t even want to know.”
“Well, maybe you don’t, but I’ll tell you anyway,” the doctor said, walking over to his bed. “You screwed up. Simple as that. You’re nearly eighteen and you screwed up. What the hell do they teach kids in prep school? A ki-management failure?” The doctor rolled his eyes. “What’s next? You wetting the bed in your sleep?”
Goten felt his ears burn. He wanted to defend himself, then thought better of it and took the scolding as deserved.
“Mmm… Anything serious?” he asked a few minutes later when the doctor had started taking down the indications from the small screen next to his bed.
“No. As sound as a roach. You can get your pathetic ass out of here as soon as I write this down.”
“Oh. Really? Nothing broken? Nothing bruised?” Goten wondered, trying to move around in the bed tentatively.
“Well, not mentioning the bits of hair that you lost, you can count yourself the luckiest guy in the universe. Any other in your place would have probably had his bits and pieces plastered to the walls of that training hall.”
Goten scratched his head, thoughtfully groping at his scalp. It felt like an uneven shrubbery with bald patches. He could bet he looked priceless. The guys were going to cry with laughter upon seeing him. He would have to shave his head again. Damn it.
“Doesn’t this happen a lot to me lately?”
The doctor grinned at him. “What exactly? Getting blown up?”
“Well, that too. But I meant… Mmm… Never mind. Besides, being “lucky” doesn’t include getting sent to the med bay three times in about two months,” Goten pointed out.
“It’s been two months already?”
Goten nodded. “Nearly.”
“Time sure flies fast,” the doctor sighed. He pulled a notepad out of his endless pockets and started scribbling something down. Then he tore the leaf off and tossed it on the blanket before Goten. “It’s your exemption from physical activity. It’s valid for three days.”
“Thanks,” Goten said, taking the note.
“One more thing.” The doctor raised his finger into the air, obviously enjoying this. “The shaii said you are to come to his office as soon as you can walk.”
Goten let out a groan of despair. “You think he’s gonna kick me out? Not saying that I don't deserve it or anything.”
The doctor clicked his tongue. “Well, seeing how you made him jump around so much and then he had to deal with those NS assholes… Yeah, he’s gonna kick you. Hard. Not all the way, though.”
“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Very much so,” the head physician agreed without missing a beat. “He said something about us not using the ER for its intended purpose. Now we are back to that dingy lunchroom. All because of you.”
“What the hell does that have to do with me? Don’t tell me you were eating in there while I was floating in one of the tanks? Ugh…”
The doctor opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it as he became aware that Goten's mind had finally started catching up with the thought that he had nearly died. The youth trailed off, now sitting on his bed quietly, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.
“Alright, off you go,” the doctor said, dangling his notebook in front of Goten’s face to bring him out of his trance. “One of your mates brought you your spare uniform. It’s in that cabinet. Dress, talk to the shaii, go eat, have a shower and go to bed. In the exact order I said it. Is that clear?”
“Err…yes. Crystal,” Goten said, after pausing to gather his wits. Then the youth groaned. “Oh shit! I'm going to need another new uniform!”
<center>ooOoOoOoo</center>
Goten reached out for a folder filled with paper that the shaii had pushed over the desk towards him. He really hoped that it had nothing to do with the accounts from the canteen. He was too worn out to deal with that crap just now.
The shaii raised his eyes from a blank file he was pretending to be reading and gave Goten a searching look. The savar’s burnt and patchy tail was lying securely across his lap. Goten had taken his time before coming to him; he had shaved his head, he had taken a shower and he had eaten – the prince could still catch the faint scent of food wafting off Goten’s uniform. He would have chewed Goten out and asked which part of “as soon as he could walk” he hadn’t understood, but the savar looked dead tired. He was obviously having trouble trying not to fall asleep in his chair.
To Goten’s relief, the documents had nothing to do with the kitchen. It was someone’s report on the accident in the training hall. Goten would have cared or felt embarrassed if he had the strength to. As it was, he found himself staring at the report with its floating words and numbers and letters and none of it made any sense to him. Instead, he opted to get on with it, deciding that he’d been looking at the report long enough to give the impression that he had read it.
“Sir, I’m very sorry about the accident,” he said, fighting the urge to rub at his eyes. He was just in time to keep himself from yawning.
“Goten, have you read the report?”
“Everything’s written just as it happened. I screwed up, si-i-ir,” against his will, Goten punctuated the word by yawning loudly. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said blinking his eyes.
“I asked whether you have read the damned report,” the prince growled out at him. He cursed as Goten just looked at him guiltily. He stood up and rounded his desk to stand beside Goten who was huddled down in his chair, expecting to be shouted at or hit. Snorting, the shaii opened the folder again and pushed it towards Goten. He bent down and pointed his finger at one particular number. “Here. Look here.” Impatiently, he thumped with his index finger on the number. “Do you see this number?”
Self-conscious, Goten leaned closer. There was a voice in the back of his head whispering to him that now the prince was going to grab him by the back of his neck and bang his stupid head against the desk a few times for good measure. Despite this, he yawned again. His eyes concentrated on the shown number.
“Three, zero, zero, zero…” Goten trailed off when he saw the look the prince was giving him. “A three and five zeros,” Goten finished lamely, hoping that the blue-eyed stare was not deadly or poisonous. The prince’s eyes strayed towards an empty chair next to Goten and, to his horror, Goten realized that the prince was toying with the idea of smashing it over his head. He was momentarily relieved when the prince’s eyes snapped back to him.
“It’s three hundred thousand!” he hissed out.
“Oh.” Abruptly, Goten stiffened visibly. Suddenly, he did not feel sleepy anymore. “Is this the damage I made to the training hall, sir?” he asked, afraid of his own voice. “Three hundred thousand credits?!” he gave the shaii a pleading look. “Sir?! Three hundred thousand credits?! Oh my fucking god! Three hundred thousand credits?! Three hundred th-”
A growl erupted from the back of the prince’s throat. He threw his hands up. “Oh shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” he hissed, straightening, waving his hands at Goten, his patience torn to shreds. “Shut up, Goten, shut the hell up!”
Scared by the outburst, Goten could only stare at the prince’s tail, which had unwound itself from his waist and now was drawing enraged circles behind the prince’s back. Hypnotized, he watched the swishing appendage. Purple. Light purple. Amazing. And a white puff at the end! Fuzzy. And so freakin’ electric in all that agitation. Nearly shooting sparks. So freakin’ fluffy! Light purple. Marvelous. And-
“What the hell are you looking at!?” the prince snarled at Goten, whacking him over his head with the folder.
Goten reddened up to his ears and dropped his eyes to his lap. The shaii brought the folder down again, but stopped just a fraction above Goten's bald head. The prince fought a rising blush down. A little thrown off balance, he wrapped his tail back around his waist tightly. He tossed the folder back onto the desk where it fell with a loud “whoosh”. He circled the desk and dropped into his chair. Trying to look busy, he grabbed the same blank file he had been pretending to read a few minutes before. He just needed a few seconds to get himself in order.
A long silence stretched over the office, only to be broken once again by Goten's yawning.
“Sir,” Goten whined a second later, “I’ll never live long enough to earn that amount of money.”
“Shut up, Goten.”
“But-”
“If you don’t shut up right now, you won’t live long enough to reach your next payday.”
Resigned, Goten sagged in his chair. It became silent in the room again. Finally, Goten heard a loud intake of breath. It seemed the shaii had recovered from whatever frenzy he had been in.
“Right,” the prince said. “It’s not three hundred thousand credits. That number is your power level just before you blew your ass up.”
Goten grinned at him. “It’s not the money, sir?”
The prince gritted his teeth. “No, it’s not.”
“I don’t owe any money, sir?”
“Shut up.”
Obediently, Goten closed his mouth. The prince waited for Goten's brain to catch up with the second sentence but it did not seem to be happening anytime soon. Reassured that he owed no money to anyone, the savar was just grinning at him mindlessly.
“It’s not the money, Goten. It’s your power level before you blew up,” the prince repeated, mustering up all the remnants of his patience. Goten continued to grin at him stupidly. “Goten, I’m not fucking kidding! It’s your damn power level!” the shaii yelled at him, slamming his fist into the desk, making his pen and the stack of documents jump into the air.
Goten was watching him mistrustfully. The shaii felt better; finally they were getting somewhere. Slowly, but they were getting there. He continued to give the savar the most convincing look he could. “Yes, Goten,” the prince nodded, drawling slowly as if talking to a retard. “It i-s y-o-u-r power level as it was registered by scouters just before the accident.”
Goten blinked at him. “Well, fuck me.”
“Yes, fuck you,” the shaii agreed.
TBC
- 13
- 14
- 15
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Barracks