Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Chizzari-Raditz ❯ Realization ( Chapter 1 )

I am a chizzari. The lowest ranked of the prince's whores, and the lowest class among them. It will not be so forever, and I know that. I just… don't like it. I never wanted to be a chizzari, and now I am.

I huddle on the floor of my shower, letting the water wash over me. I have already scrubbed the filth from my hair and my skin, but I still feel as if I am covered in it. The water grew cold some time ago. Slowly, I rise. I do not want to be what I am, but there is no help for it. I must move to the prince's wing of the castle, into my new quarters.

I dry my hair slowly, looking into the full-length mirror. The bruises have already begun forming. Fingerprints are plain on my hips. There are hickeys all over me. The sight disgusts me, and I turn away, dropping the towel and scrambling into my clothes. Even then, I know many of the marks are still obvious. My armor has never truly covered all that much of me, and I don't wear the more concealing of the bodysuits under it. In fact, my pants barely cover my butt.

I turn to face the mirror again after stamping into my boots. My hair I shake out, letting it hang as it will. It falls as always, bushing out around my shoulders, the thick, shaggy spikes narrowing to a point that ends just below my knees. I grab up the rest of the accoutrements, scrambling into them nearly as quickly as I got into the rest of the uniform. Only once my scouter is partially covering the bruise on my eye do I feel somewhat calmer.

I look like a Saiyan warrior again, not some fuckable whore. I realize I am trembling with the knowledge that that is exactly what I am. I turn to gather my things. I don't have much, I don't spend a lot of time in these quarters. A few battle mementos, extra pants and armor, that's really all I have. I have a healthy bit of money to spend, but have never seen much point to it. Any woman I've ever wanted, I've taken. Usually right before I kill her, except for the few of the women of my own race, or a whore Frieza protects.

Yeah, I've never had much to do with Saiyan women. Guess I should have when I had the chance. Well, being chizzari will boost my popularity, of course… but I don't want to remember that that's what I am. Unfortunately, it didn't take me all that long to pack. It's time to move, now. I lift the box easily to my shoulder, and leave without a backward glance. There's nothing left in that room for me.

I make my way through town to the palace, where there is no fuss at all made about letting me in. I am given a guide, as if I don't know where I'm going. Well, actually, I don't. I know where the prince's wing is, I'm just not sure where I'm supposed to go once I get there. So I follow the boy they gave me to the room where I'll spend the rest of the time I'm not on a mission, or in the prince's bed, or… oh gods.

I'd forgotten.

Chizzari are trained.

Nappa will be the one training my father and I, because he is the first. I know my face must be ashen, because the boy gives me a funny look before darting back out the door. I slip inside and put the box down on the bed.

It's a nice bed. Very comfortable. I don't think about it. I can't stand to think about it. There's a clothes chest for my uniforms, so I put those away, and put the few other things on the shelves before sticking the box in a corner. I survey the rest of the room.

It isn't a great deal different from my old quarters at first glance. Bed, table & chairs, clothes chest. A bathing room. But there is another, of glass, that leads to a small balcony that overlooks the palace gardens. A third door opens into a small, but well-equipped and very well-stocked kitchen. The windows are larger, and have curtains. The bedding is remarkably soft and silky, the towels in the bathing room thick and soft. A silken curtain hides a recess filled with silky robes.

Investigating the box next to the bed sends me crashing to my knees. Slowly, I take out each item. I know the uses of many of them, and know that Nappa will use each and every single one on me during my training. I cannot help the helpless cry I make as I look through the box, and realize that it is my future. Now and forever, I am no longer a Saiyan warrior. I am nothing more than a sexual object, a toy to be played with, and maybe shared.

I am trembling when I finish putting those items away. I go out to the balcony, sit on the chair that has been provided. It is a pleasant view, but it does not help me calm. I cannot do this! I cannot! Why has this happened? Why am I a chizzari? I have done nothing in my whole life to earn such a title.

And then, I remember what he told me. As he held me, after I loved him. He had asked for me. I don't know why. And I don't know who could have taken him against his will, but I know that is what he told me. And… I relax. He also told me that no one would take me again, not even him, unless I wanted him to.

Hungry now, I get up to investigate my little kitchen. There are delicacies which I have never had before, and I nibble at them. They are delicious, but I don't know what they are. It doesn't matter. I know that my unwelcome position will ensure that they are replaced. It is with a full stomach and a light heart that I exit the set of rooms I have been given to explore the common area that I will share with my father and Nappa.

They apparently haven't arrived yet. I don't mind. If I never see Nappa again, it will be far too soon. As for my father… I wince. I am not really looking forward to seeing him, either. My tail drifts down from where I have had it clutched around my waist. It twitches, spasming, and the resulting pain waves knock me to my knees for a moment. My poor tail was overstressed - I'd managed to bruise myself with it, I'd had it wrapped so tightly.

I grab hold of the chair I fell against and force myself back to my feet. The commons is well-appointed, much like one of the high-priced whorehouses I'd visited once while on leave. I'd actually paid there, it was under Frieza's protection. The lighting is fairly muted, no harsh glaring. There are even some nice pictures on the wall. I don't think Vegeta probably chose them, he doesn't seem like a man who is interested in Saiyan mythology.

Then again, I could be wrong. I know very little of the prince, except that he is amazingly strong for his age. And tiny. He looks like a child, not a teen. Even his voice makes him sound younger, more like a spoilt brat than a warrior. He's dangerous, though, and everyone knows it. He's got a hair-trigger temper and no patience at all.

He's been promised to Frieza. Since he's so small, his father has managed to keep the lizard thinking Vegeta is much younger than he actually is. He's seventeen, but Frieza believes he's only about five. Vegeta goes to him on what the lizard believes will be the day after his tenth birthday. He'll be twenty-two. He does have to go up to the ship tomorrow though. His first mission for Frieza instead of his father, and he'll be getting regular assignments now. King Vegeta has allowed him to go on a great many missions, but only in the last year has he allowed Vegeta to go as the prince instead of a common soldier. Cropped off his hair so that no one could recognize him. It finally grew back, so King Vegeta took him along this year as his son.

What bothers me is that the lizard fell for it. Prince Vegeta doesn't act like a child. Or talk like one. Oh, he sounds like one. He sounds like a spoiled brat, most of the time. And he looks like one. But if Frieza was ever to bother to look into the Prince's record… I shudder. The Ice Lord would be most displeased. And no doubt, Saiyans would die to ease his temper.

I turn my attention back to the room. Ugh. I've seen couches like those before. Not sitting there. Small tables, a few books on sparsely filled shelves. A knickknack or two. There is a door in each wall. One, I came in through. One leads to my room. The other two must lead to Nappa and my father's rooms. I know that the rooms are assigned by rank. Nappa will have the nicest, with my father the second nicest. Mine is probably tawdry compared to theirs.

There isn't a connecting kitchen, but I know there is one for this wing. Yeah, the prince has his own kitchen staff. His own medical facilities, too, if I remember right. One of the doors opens behind me as I stare up at a picture that is supposed to represent the Legendary. I turn, to see my father.

"Hey, boy." He looks me up and down, then frowns. "You shouldn't be wearing that."

"What?" It occurs to me then that he is wearing nothing more than a silken, loosely belted robe like those I had found in my room.

"You're chizzari, boy," he snaps, frowning. "Go get dressed. Or rather, undressed."

I don't hear Nappa approach, and my scouter doesn't register him. I catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, and the next thing I know, my head is bouncing off my door. I stagger to my feet, a little stunned, and then crash through the door when he hits me again. I fight him, of course. But I have blood running in my eyes where his first blow and the impact with the door had cut me, and I am dizzy as hell. My scouter is ripped from my face, and he does the same with my armor.

When he finishes with me, I crawl across the floor to the bathing chamber. My head aches, and I can barely see. I make it into the shower, get the water running. And then, like a fool, I huddle on the floor under the running stream, letting it wash the blood away. Nappa comes after me, batters me around some more, then pulls one of the robes from the closet. He bundles me into it, then hauls me out to the common room by my hair. And there, he arranges me to his satisfaction on one of those couches, and proceeds to demonstrate to my father some of the ways we are expected to please the prince.

And then he has my father put his new lessons to use. I fight. Vegeta had promised! I think I say that, because I can hear Nappa roaring something about it being his place to train me, right before the pain gets a lot worse. Nappa is trying to hurt me, and he does a real good job of it.

I wake up in bed. I have new bruises, and my rear feels like raw meat. I don't remember how I got to bed. I know the servant boy couldn't have carried me in, and I don't think Nappa would have bothered. I guess that my father put me to bed. I stretch carefully, wincing as my body informs me exactly where and how much it hurts. I slide from beneath the covers, and crash to the floor when I try to take a step.

Naturally, that is when the servant boy comes in. From him, I find that Vegeta never made it to our quarters last night. He was called to Frieza's ship early, and he will be gone for six months. I lay on the floor a good minute after I discover this, then force myself to my feet and stride to the bathing room as if nothing is wrong.

A shower is definitely in order. I scrub the remains of the evening's events from my skin, then lean against the shower wall and just let the hot water beat into my skin. It feels wonderful, I feel like shit. Vegeta is gone. His promise to me has already been broken, and I doubt that he knows it. My fingers clutch the tiles as I realize that he probably wasn't even given a chance to give any orders concerning his new chizzari. The next six months… I am Nappa's toy.