Crossover Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vendetta ❯ Chapter Nine ( Chapter 9 )

Elsewhere in Space, Late Morning

 

Makoto wiped the sweat from her brow, glaring harshly in the general direction of the hot sun. She'd spent the past three hours trying to form a ki shield as her sensei hurled blasts at her. She wasn't particularly successful, and her entire body ached from all the blows. He hadn't ever gone easy before, and he wasn't about to let up now, and she understood that. She had a long way to go before she would ever be anywhere near his power, if it were even possible. The fact that she was progressing faster than most of the other `moms' had nothing to do with anything.

 

The main cause of her success was the fact that she already knew the basic moves in many forms of martial arts, and she had at least been taught the theory behind ki manipulation. Rei's grandfather had explained it to her once, and though she'd never mastered it on her own, she was making significant strides now. She could control her aura to the point of forming a small attack, but that was it. She still couldn't fly, and she was not doing well at using her ki to block the ki of others, as was evident by the burn marks on her clothing.

 

Still, subtly, her sensei seemed to favor her. He continued to call her `puppy,' and, though some may not consider it favoring, pushed her the hardest. Even when all the other women were collapsing in exhaustion, he singled her out with a ki blast or a punch. Perhaps that also had something to do with her progressing faster than the others. Either way, she understood that it was how he worked, and she wasn't angry with him for the extra bruises.

 

She staggered into the barracks building and made her way to her quarters. She still had an hour before Gohan was due to come back from his lessons, and she wanted to go soak in the bathtub for a good long while. She felt as though she'd been hit by a semi, and prayed her legs would get her as far as her rooms. They did, and she drew herself a bath, smiling despite the pain.

 

Really, she was enjoying her new life more than she had thought she was going to. Sure, the workouts were tougher than anything she'd experienced on earth, but over the past two weeks, her body had gotten used to the harsh routine. Every day was a little easier to endure, and she thought often to herself that it would make protecting Usagi a lot easier. If she got as powerful as her sensei, pretty much any of the villains threatening her princess would seem mere child's play, a small pest hardly worth the effort.

 

She also had Gohan to keep her mind busy. The child was absolutely adorable and had become quite attached to her over the past two weeks. He smiled at her all the time and followed her around. According to his teachers, he was doing very well at school, learning his numbers faster than any of the other children. He never complained about his schoolwork or his training, and yet didn't seem to be hiding any discontent.

 

He was learning martial arts at an alarmingly fast rate, though. At least, as far as she was concerned it was an alarming rate. He was already mastering several kicks, punches and blocks. He hit disturbingly hard for a child, too. At first, Makoto had been afraid to show him things, afraid to let him use her as a punching bag lest she forget and attack back out of instinct. But he was resilient, and could take a modest hit from her without passing out. Granted, he was still a child, and she could still whip him if need be, but he was an exceptionally gifted child.

 

Makoto pondered the boy as she soaked in her bath, wondering where he had come from. He looked human, true, but his tail pointed to the fact that he was, in all likelihood, another species entirely. It could possibly explain his accelerated mastery of basic martial arts, and also his appetite. The child, not yet four years old, ate to rival Usagi. It was a bit unnerving to watch a child eat a meal big enough for a full grown adult. Makoto wondered how much he would eat when he hit puberty.

 

Eventually, she was forced to remove herself from the bathtub. She had to cook lunch before Gohan got home. Immediately after the meal, she would have to go back out into the hot sun to train the boy until supper. It wasn't really physically demanding on her, but the combination of the sun, an already exhausted body and a three-year-old who could punch like some full grown humans was a tiresome thought.

 

Pulling herself out of the tub and draining the water, she wiped off and donned a fresh gi. She padded into the kitchen, her legs still a bit sore, and thought about what to make for lunch. Gohan wasn't really fussy, but she didn't want to burn him out on any particular food so early in life. Finally, she picked out her ingredients and started cooking. This was a part of her job she found immensely enjoyable. Cooking had always been a favorite hobby of hers, and she was glad to be able to cook for someone other than herself on a regular basis.

 

Gohan entered the kitchen around noon, his nose in the air. Even if he had hated Makoto for making him study and fight, which he didn't, he would still love her for her cooking. He wandered around her feet for awhile, hoping she would feed him something, but was left wanting. Finally, she told him to sit, and he did so obediently, looking hungrily at her. She couldn't help but smile. He was such a cute kid, and very well behaved.

 

She set a plate in front of him and he tore into it. She sat across from him at the table with her own plate, eating at a slower rate. He finished his meal quickly and got up to put his plate and glass by the sink. He had to stand on a chair, but it was cute that he was so considerate. Makoto finished shortly after and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. It had taken about an hour to figure out how to work the thing, but it worked remarkably well.

 

“Alright Gohan-chan. Go change into a gi, and we'll get out onto the training field,” she instructed. He followed her instructions and returned a moment later, tying a sash about his waist. He looked very serious, and Makoto giggled.

 

“What?” he asked, scowling up at her.

 

“Nothing. Let's go.”

 

She smiled and led him outside. Things hadn't turned out so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

Frieza's ship, mid afternoon

 

Hotaru's illness had passed after a few days, but it left her feeling weak. Again, the simple walks to the library or the dining room left her exhausted, and at one point, Zarbon had had to carry her. She found it more embarrassing now, that she could not even walk from one room to another, but no one made any comment. They didn't even look at her as though it was strange, even though they could fly and destroy planets without any effort. It was a little unnerving.

 

Shortly after recovering, the ship landed on Frieza's home planet, and everyone except her began bustling about with varying tasks. She felt a little worthless and again wondered why Frieza bothered to keep her around. Despite his relatively kind treatment of her during her stay on his ship, she found it hard to trust anyone whose motives she couldn't figure out. They same thought applied to Zarbon.

 

He followed her around, though she assumed that was at Frieza's orders, and he was always willing to help her. He would sit patiently in the library for hours as she struggled over some exotic text. He would carry her when she was too weak to walk, and he sat with her for most of the time while her fever raged. She was sure he had other things he would prefer to do, but he never once complained about anything, and she couldn't help but wonder why he acted as he did toward her.

 

Currently, he was a part of the bustle on the ship, and she hadn't seen him for most of the day. The slave who had been in charge of taking care of her had been her companion for the day, and had chatted briefly about Frieza's home planet. It was apparently very cold, and they had not been able to land near the palace due to inclement weather. Apparently, even the most advanced technology in the world could not fight nature and its wrath.

 

Now Hotaru stood in her undermost layer of clothing—a pair of knee-length under shorts with frills and ribbons and a sleeveless undershirt meant to protect her skin from the corset. She had already donned thick socks and a pair of boots, because early on she learned that bending over to tie shoes was nearly impossible in a corset. The slave woman was digging around searching for the proper petticoats, piling up more than Hotaru was accustomed to wearing. It appeared that Hotaru would have to actually go out into the storm in order to reach the palace, and proper dress was essential to prevent frostbite.

 

The small girl donned layers of petticoats and the corset, which she found to be less uncomfortable than she would have imagined. Its primary function was to keep her posture and she rarely had it cinched up except on the occasional visits with Frieza. She wore another sleeveless undershirt over the corset to protect it from the heavy gown she would be wearing, and then put on the dress itself. By this point, she was quite toasty in the climate-controlled space ship, and she was actually looking forward to going out into the cold.

 

As the slave woman tugged the gown into its proper places, Zarbon knocked on the door and asked if he could come in. Hotaru gave him the affirmative, and he opened the door. He was also dressed in warmer clothing—pants and a shirt with actual sleeves for once. He carried a bundle of cloth with him and offered it to Hotaru. She accepted it timidly and unrolled it. It was a hooded cloak of a thick, black material, the hood lined with soft fur from some unknown animal. Rolled up in the cloak was a fur muff, apparently for her hands. She thanked him softly.

 

“We'll be leaving soon, so I'm to take you to Lord Frieza. Others will take your wardrobe to your chambers in the palace, including the books you've been reading,” he said. She smiled, glad she would not be left without something to read. “Are you ready?”

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

He offered her his arm, and she accepted it, accustomed to this gesture. He never took her anywhere without offering his arm. She made this walk without feeling dizzy at all, and was thankful. She certainly did not want Zarbon carrying her into Frieza's presence. The last thing she wanted was to show too much weakness or worthlessness to the tyrant lest he change his mind about keeping her around.

 

They met Frieza at the ship's exit, where he stood with a couple of other warriors. Seeing that they were preparing to open the doors to leave, Hotaru donned the cloak, pulling the hood up and slipping on hand into the muff. It was very warm and very soft, and she liked it immediately. As the doors open, she hardly had time to even think about stepping from the ship. Zarbon immediately scooped her up into his arms, and the group took to the air.

 

Hotaru had never been flying in such a manner before, and it was terrifying. A bitterly cold wind whipped at her exposed face, and she was forced to turn and bury it in Zarbon's chest. The extra layers and the cloak kept the rest of her reasonably warm, and the extra body heat coming from the man carrying her kept her from being uncomfortable. They flew at an amazing speed, and thankfully, the trip was short. When they landed only a couple of minutes later, they were standing in front of the most magnificent palace Hotaru had ever seen.

 

Elsewhere in Space, Around Noon

 

Minako learned shortly that the name of the woman who owned her house was Élodie. She had started prostitution at age fifteen (approximately, in Earth years), and had worked her way up the ranks. The brothel she now ran was considered one of the more high-class institutions in the known universe, and, with her keen business sense, Élodie managed to shift girls in and out of her business within a matter of years. All the girls who worked for her had nothing but praise to offer, and her clients, a hand-picked group of wealthy rulers, warriors and businesspeople, were never let down.

 

Élodie had never been in a committed relationship resembling a human marriage, but that was not entirely uncommon. Some aliens chose to commit themselves, but most had their fun and moved on. Élodie had given birth to Pacquette when she was in the equivalent of her late twenties, and had no desire to ever have more children. She doted on the girl, true, but claimed her heart could not take all the stress of raising any more children.

 

Pacquette was indeed a handful. A teenager, she was stubborn, rebellious and fond of experimenting. She had far more energy than was healthy for someone her age, and talked more than was ever appropriate for anyone under any circumstances. Also, having a wealthy mother, she was spoiled rotten and would throw temper tantrums if she did not get her way. Still, the girl took an immediate liking to Minako, and acted reasonably around her.

 

It was Pacquette who came storming into the private dining room where Minako was eating lunch, bearing the news. Her initial ramblings were so disjointed that Minako had no idea what was going on, but once the girl calmed down, the message was delivered. Should Minako accept, her first patron would arrive in time for supper. However, before Minako could wrap her mind around the sudden news, Pacquette began babbling again. Apparently, she knew the man, and was fond of him.

 

“He's terribly wealthy, and so handsome...” she said, enumerating his various positive traits.

 

Minako caught only bits and pieces of Pacquette's ramblings, too stunned at first to realize the girl was still talking. She had been hoping for at least a few days notice before her first patron so that she would have time to prepare mentally for the challenge. Now, she only had about six hours, maybe less. Still, she had to start eventually, or she would never earn her freedom.

 

“Pacquette, go tell your mother I accept,” Minako said softly.

 

The girl continued talking to herself as she left the room, giddy at the prospect of this patron. Minako wrapped up her meal quickly and returned to her room. She grabbed the book Élodie had given her on that first day and flopped down on the bed. She had read the book through twice already, but wanted to touch up her memory on a few items. Also, she wanted to reassure herself that no real harm would come to her.

 

Most of the book outlined what would be expected of her. The parts about sex were vague, as she would take lessons later to “improve her skills.” There was a lot more expected of her, though. She would often eat meals with her patrons, talking with them, playing games or entertaining them. Élodie had been glad to hear that she had some musical abilities, and she had been taking lessons on numerous instruments in the past few weeks. Also, she had been told to memorize dozens of songs, should a patron request that she sing. She had heard none of the songs before, but they were all beautiful and simple, and she had no trouble learning them.

 

These lessons she reviewed now, impressing upon herself the proper ways to serve and eat food with a patron, how to hold polite conversation even if you did not understand the topic. She soon got up and made faces in the full length mirror on the bathroom door, looking pouty, innocent, seductive, aloof and so forth. Acting was also an important skill. Sometimes she would find a patron displeasing, but it would not be good for business to let her discontent show. Acting, she had experience with. Acting she could do.

 

After almost two hours she grew tired of pouting into the mirror and reading, and changed into “workout” clothes. When Élodie had learned that Minako knew some martial arts and was very physically active, she had been encouraging. It would not do for Minako to get out of shape and flabby, and so she had been given access to the dojo at the back of the house. She normally worked out for about an hour every morning, but now she wanted to get out of her room and take her mind off of things.

 

The dojo was rather small with the normal paper-thin walls and a high ceiling. However, the size was not a problem as Minako was the only person in the room at the time. Only a few of the girls used it, the rest finding martial arts too manly or unrefined for them. They maintained their figures by not eating, and Minako found them silly. She had a fondness for food, and working out gave her a chance to clear her head and focus for the day.

 

She sought that clear mind now, stretching her limbs and focusing all of her attention on the feel of her muscles flexing and bending. She did a few warm-up exercises, sit-ups, push-ups, and jumping jacks. She ran around the perimeter until she felt loose and warm, and then began the kata that had become all too familiar at this point. She had done them daily at home and every morning since she'd been given access to the dojo, and they came easily.

 

Doing the familiar routine relaxed her mind. She lost all track of the outside world, focused wholly on the kicks, punches and blocks of each form. It would have been easier with a partner, someone to keep her guessing, but she made do. In fact, she made do so well that she lost all track of time. Without warning, Pacquette burst into the room, flushed and excited.

 

“You're still here?” she shrieked.

 

“What? What time is it?” Minako asked.

 

“Late! He's already arrived and you're all sweaty like a pig. Come on.”

 

Minako squeaked in protest, but Pacquette dragged her forcibly from the dojo and back to her room. Before Minako fully assessed the situation, Pacquette had started the water for a bath and was rushing at full speed through the room, digging out kimonos, make-up and hair ornaments.

 

“Get in the tub, no time to wash your hair. You're lucky you washed it yesterday,” Pacquette mumbled.

 

Minako did as she was told, tying her hair up on top of her head, slipping out of her clothing and stepping lightly into the bathtub. The water was a bit cool, but it felt nice after such a thorough workout. A glance at the clock as she'd entered her room had shown that she spent nearly two hours in the dojo. She scrubbed herself quickly, got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself.

 

Pacquette sat her down roughly in front of the vanity and began messing with her hair. Eventually, she managed to pile it up in an elaborate style, holding it in place with two beautiful combs, carved of wood and painted. Then, she shuffled through the makeup, debating on how much to use. Young people generally wore very little, but Pacquette did not want Minako to be lacking in any way for her first patron. Finally, she settled on some light rouge, a foreign red powdery substance resembling lipstick that managed to stay on the lips without any weird or ill side effects, and some other foreign blue substance in stick form on the eyelids.

 

Looking in the mirror, Minako had to admit that Pacquette knew what she was doing. Minako had never really needed any make-up, but all that the younger girl had put on did nothing but enhance. However, she had no time to admire herself in the mirror. Pacquette pulled her up from the chair and tugged off the towel, handing Minako the under robe of the kimono. Once Minako had both layers on, Pacquette set about the complicated task of tying the obi about her waist. It took some minutes, but was beautifully done.

 

“There. Perfect.” Pacquette stepped back and admired her work for a brief moment. Then, she glanced at the clock and frowned. “Dinner won't be ready for about half an hour. Mama's entertaining him right now, but you should go soon. You'll just love him, I promise.”

 

Minako nodded absently, not really listening to Pacquette. Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed, finally forcing herself to think about the situation. In a few minutes, she would go to meet her first patron. She would eat a meal with him, maybe play a game or some music, and then...then she would let him touch her, let him take her virginity. For all Pacquette's assurances that he was wonderful and handsome, she could not simply allow herself to think positively about him.

 

What kind of man solicits prostitutes? Would he be disgusting physically? Or socially inept? Was he incapable of finding a woman willing, or did he just choose prostitutes for the hell of it? Millions of questions raced through Minako's head, and she found herself incapable of answering any of them. It was entirely possible that the man was nice as Pacquette claimed, but Minako had a hard time believing her. After all, the men Pacquette spent most of her time around were all patrons, and while this man may be better than most, that did not mean that he was fantastic by normal standards.

 

Unfortunately, Minako did not have much time to ponder what her patron would be like. After only a few minutes, Pacquette insisted that they leave and go in search of her mother. It would not do to keep the man waiting for much longer, though he had shown up earlier than expected and knew that some waiting would be involved. Minako steeled her courage and left her room following Pacquette. She held her head high, kept her back straight. For all she was terrified, she would not let the world see.

 

They arrived shortly at the room in which Élodie entertained the guest, and Minako felt a lump rise in her throat. Still, she went forward, and entered the room when Pacquette opened the door. The two occupants of the room looked up when they heard the door open, and Minako tried desperately to suppress the feeling of dread washing over her body as she caught sight of her patron.

 

“Ah, here we are,” Élodie said, her voice soft and melodious.

 

“You!” Minako shouted, pointing a finger at her patron.

 

* * *

 

Ooh, cliffhanger...