Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Thrown Away ❯ TA<>1 ( Chapter 1 )

During the fiction drought I have finally started work on a fic that's been in my mind but not on it for months. It's supposed to be a joint fic with a friend(who can't write, spell, or use proper grammar for the life of him) so he's good in the brainstorming department.

This story is totally original, and I claim the idea for myself since I don't recall approving any of Aaron's ideas. There might be a few that came through, so he gets a little credit. And Allyson too, it's much more likely that her ideas made the cut…

Gack, this floor is an ass bone killer. Owwie!

Thrown Away

x|-|x

Heaving breaths put strain on the childs now-limited energy supply, crushed ribs creating a stabbing jolt of pain with each frantic gasp. Eyes swollen shut from heavy blows struggled open at the sound of encroaching footsteps. The boy's pain-fuzzied mind failed to register his brother's soft graceful step, and he tensed, distressed to find that his natural defenses refused to respond. Slitted bloodshot eyes made out his brothers lithe form, and the boy relaxed back against the wall. He could tell by the older boy's stance that the fight was over; no more harm would come to him.

"Oniisan," he breathed, grimacing in discomfort.

"Quiet," the older boy commanded. His voice lowered to a whisper, and the younger struggled valiantly to hear through the blood pounding in his ears.

"I'm sorry, Otooto(little brother). We knew this day was coming. Our destinies have been realized." In a rare show of affection, the elder pressed his forefinger against the younger's forehead, and then his chin. Gathering a bit of his own blood on his thumb, he smeared it from the bridge of his brothers nose to the tip, and the child leaned his face into his gentle touch.

"Our people will forget you, little one, we are commanded to do so. I cannot obey such an order. May the moons guide your path through the stars, brother." Reaching out blindly to grasp the elder's arm, the boy whimpered plaintively. Standing again, the older brother pulled his arm free of the chilld's weak grip and walked to stand next to their father. One of the palace officials called out for all to hear,

"The loser in this test of stength has been stripped of all title, name, and rank. He shall be known as Suteru. His mother is also stripped of title and rank. Both are banished from all civilized areas, and are to be treated as outlaws. Anyone found to be giving them aid will be brought to trial for high treason to the throne. You two are to hide your faces in your shame, and let no man near you. You are outcasts in our great society."

A woman in the crowd struggled mightily against her captors, managing to kill one before she was restrained. 'You can't do this to me, to us! He's your own son you murdering bastard! He was only five years old, and you expect him to even have a chance against a child two years his senior? You have no honor you--"

The king was before her in a flash, his backhand across her face sending her to her knees. "Quiet bitch. You no longer have the right to address your king in such a familiar manner. You never did. You were only another concubine. Vegeta is the son of the Queen, why shouldn't I favor him? His blood is better suited for the throne. That welp is weak; look at him, crying in a mutilated heap. You shoulld have had him better trained, he might have stood a chance. Now he is no son of mine." She glared hatefully at the king before spitting a mouthful of blood on his face, smirking at his angered expression.

"You come dangerously close to execution, wench. I suggest you take your pitiful brat and leave, before I make your life any worse." The large Saiyajin exited the throne room, Vegeta following at a safe distance. He glanced back at the heap of blood and broken flesh that his brother had become, his face betraying no small regret. Shrugging uncomfortably he allowed the doors to close behind him, leaving mother and child alone with a few guards.

The small-framed Saiyajin female gathered the broken child into her arms, disgust plainly covering her features.

In no time they were outside the gates of the palace. She held her head high against the shouts and glares from the people lining the streets. Once far enough past the city limits, she entered her father's underground hangar, seeking out her favorite interstellar craft large enough for two people. Pressing a hidden switch on the outside of the craft filled the house with a sedative gas, allowing her time to gather what food and supplies would be needed for the short trip to the nearest planet.

The ship was out of the atmosphere and sailng past the planets triple moons before three hours had passed.

x|-|x

Landing the spacecraft in the largest city on Nidon was easy enough, and few noticed the Saiyajin woman carrying a child well-wrapped in blankets. They had reached the planet in less than twelve hours, the ship being a speed prototype, one of her father's latest models.

Slipping into an empty alley she sat down behind a dumpster and laid her child on the ground next to her. His sweat drenched the blankets and he whispered nonsense, his skin burned with fever. Sneering at the bloody sweaty mess the child was, she uncovered him, shaking his small form roughly to wake him. He cried out at the painful jostling, his eyes opening as far as swelling would allow. He looked around blearily for the cause of the disturbance, black eyes settling on the face of his mother. Shallow breaths calmed, and he blinked up at her questioningly.

"Suteru," she snorted, scoffing at the childs new name. He scowled, reject, throw away, that's what it meant. Only his brother and mother still loved him, and he had no hope of seeing Vegeta ever again. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears forming in them, and gasped in pain when his mother shook him to regain his attention.

"Bye." She said simply, and turned to walk away.

"Mama!" He cried desperately, and she turned back to kneel beside him.

"You are more trouble than you're worth, Suteru. I could have been the queen, I got so far, and you ruined it all, pathetic weakling. Our people have thrown you away, and I reserve that right also. Your name is fitting, you little shit. You'd better hope that no one on this planet knows what you are. Good luck," she called over her shoulder, obviously not convinced that any luck would come his way.

He stared blankly after her, only half understanding her words, but committing all to memory; someday he'd figure it out. "Okaasan!" he cried, shivering in pain at his broken ribs. He pushed the pain to the back of his consciousness, and continued calling out, crying for the only being left who knew about him, or where he was.

Adrenaline acting as a natural painkiller, he struggled to his hands and knees, crawling determinedly out of the alley. He gritted his teeth in pain, tail dragging weakly behind him. He covered twenty feet at a fairly good pace, collapsing in exhaustion right outsie the mouth of the alley, varioius aliens traversing the sidewalk stepping over his unconscious form. Some cast a sympathetic eye in his direction, but most overlooked the small Saiyajin child.

x|-|x

"Oh, not another one. Poor little fellow." Gathering the small child carefully into his arms, the elderly Simkon plodded slowly down the sidewalk. It had been a good twenty years since he had found Suteru, a Saiyajin boy in the same predicament. The royal family of Vejiitasei was brutal with these failed attempts at Crowned Princes, and it had taken a full six months to nurse that Suteru back to health. He only hoped that he had found this child in time.

x|-|x

Smoke from various drugs, the stench of alcohol and loud noise assaulted Suteru's senses, and he came slowly awake. The room was small, and dark, and the bed was hard and dirty. Still, it had an air of quietude and peace to it, and somehow, safety. He didn't bother to imagine how he had come to this place, but deep within he hoped his mother had returned. That hope vaporized when he recalled her cruel words, and he closed his eyes and allowed himself the pleasure of crying alone, in the dark room.

The earpiece connected to the monitor in Suteru's room betrayed the childs tears to his care taker, who entered the room and sat on a stool by the bed. The small boy lay on his side facing the wall, and the large Simkon rubbed his back comfortingly, unsure if the child was just afraid, or in pain. Probably a bit of both, he decided, and gently checked the dressings he had applied to the boy's wounds. A large wad of bills had kept the doctor quiet, and a larger one convinced him to carefully set the child's broken tail. The look of disgust and no small fear was plain on the medic's face as he worked; no one really cared that much for the Saiyajin race.

"Hush now little one, no one's going to hurt you. What's your name, huh?" The boys sniffling slowed, and he turned to face the large alien. He looked thoughtful for a moment before answering in a small voice, "Suteru." He nodded, his suspicions confirmed. Another royal cast away.

"My name is Tencho, and you are in my nightclub. You can stay here till you're fully healed, but after that…I'm afraid you must leave. I'm already pushing my luck by helping you out this much." The child nodded weakly.

"Thank you, Tencho-san." His eyes slid shut slowly, his weakened state leaving him with little to no energy.

Pulling a thin blanket over Suteru's small form, Tencho ran deep red fingers through the boy's trademark upswept hair. "I wish you could stay with us child, but this is one of the most dangerous places for you to be. There is little love for your race in this city, and even less from my patrons. But maybe, maybe…" He let the words hang, already deep in thought. Plodding out of the room, he absently shut the door behind him.

x|-|x

"Hey, Quintor, tell me what you think of something," Tencho murmured under his breath to his old frined, who was serving drinks. Nodding silently, the younger Simkon backed away from the bar and faced Tencho.

"You know the kid, we got in the back, eh? Been thinking about him a lot. Life's been hard on him already, I feel bad letting it have it's way with him. I mean, we don't have to turn him out when he's healed. He has no idea what to do out there, and he'll get killed in the first instant."

"What are you trying to say old man? That we keep him here forever? That he should just stay in that little back room till he's old enough to be on his own? His people, and not life, have dealt him a harsh hand. His life will never be easy, it's better if he understands that early on."

"But no one likes Saiyajin. And no Saiyajin likes him. Why can't anyone see that? He's no different than any of us, the damn monkeys hate him. Logic dictates that we should embrace him."

"Very few people on this planet listen to logic, so quit your rambling. It won't work, and when he's got his strength back, he's leaving. You give him money, food, and clothes all you want, but he's going. You're the only one that can stand being near him as it is, so don't push your luck. I'd prefer he never came here at all, it's flirting with the devil. End of discussion, Tencho." Quintor turned back to his disgruntled customers, a placating smile turning his lips upward as he prepared to assuage their impatient anger. Sighing silently in sorrowful resignation, Tencho didn't allow his mind to wander back to Suteru.

x|-|x

End first chapter, and I promise, the next chapters won't be anywhere NEAR this long! The length came from having lots of time on my hands, and nowhere to post what I'd written!

Please tell me what you think, and I hope you enjoyed it!!