Warnings: slavery, abuse, rape, mpregs, kawaiiness, LEMON, angst...

Rating: NC17

Disclaimers: They’re MINE…ALL MINE I TELL YOU!!! BWAAAAA HAAAA HAAA HAAAAAAA!!!

What???? *pouts* Well they ARE!!! *glares* And as always, don’t fuck with Sage, he’s more mine than the rest of them are I suppose you could say…

Dedications to my koishii tsuin Dasia who let me borrow her original characters, Herself, the Lady Cleodasia Rihai and her lil boy toy Mijuku for this fic, I adore them and her always!!! *drags Miju off for ravishing*

And to my dearest danglemate for her marvelous beta’ing!!! How can I ever thank you enough??? *gives her a lemony kish*

And to Xero...just because.

Restraints and Liberations

By Talon

Chapter 5

Regression (part a)

The docking went smoothly, Turles being a very old hand at it. Getting Sage off the ship proved to be more of a challenge.

“Please, Turles-sama…PLEASE, can’t I just stay here?”

Turles sighed. Well, at least he had progressed to using his actual name, though Turles was distinctly uncomfortable at the honorific Sage attached to it.

“Sage, you need proper apparel. And it would be irresponsible of me to leave you here alone and unguarded. Surely you can see that.”

Whisper. “Yes...but...please...”

Turles lightly cupped his small face between his hands. With gentle pressure, he tilted the boy’s head until endless obsidian eyes met his own. “Sage, I promise you, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I must go onto the station myself; I have to give the Lady her personally calibrated gel as part of my payment for fuel and docking fees. I need some supplies. You need clothing and shoes. You cannot re-unite with your parents barefoot and wearing my castoffs. And you’ll like the Lady...well, maybe 'like' is too strong a word. You can trust the Lady. But you will like Mijuku...” He stopped, when he saw Sage had ceased to listen. The child was shaking slightly. Cursing himself, he picked the boy up as though he were no older than his young twin siblings and held him. Sage stiffened in his embrace, but relaxed as Turles’ tail curled around his waist, cinching soothingly, the older Saiyjin’s purr reaching though his fear.

“Sage,” whispered Turles.

“Yes?” A tremulous voice.

“Do you not trust me, child?”

“H...h...hai, Turles-sama,” his response came haltingly, but his voice steadied. “I...I do trust you. But I’m...scared to go there.” He pulled back slightly, looking at Turles. “Please don’t tell my papa I was scared to go on a space station?”

Turles frowned. “No, I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to, Sage...did something bad happen to you on a space station?”

Sage’s voice was low. “Something bad happened to me no matter where I went.”

Turles’ stomach clenched. He still hadn’t gotten the boy to open up to him yet, but times like this he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what the boy had in his memory, no matter how much it would help him.

Carefully Turles set Sage down on his feet and looked him over, brushing an errant spike of blue-laced pitch back into place. “Let me see your hands,” he instructed. Obediently, Sage held out his hands, and Turles inspected them. They were covered with pencil and pen marks. He grinned. “Go and wash them, please. And hurry, we mustn’t keep the Lady waiting, ne?”

Before he had finished his instructions, Sage had already scampered off to do his bidding. He sighed. HOW could the boy obey him instantly one second, but have to be coaxed and dragged the next? He really didn’t mind, despite the confusion it caused him and Sage as well, because it meant Sage could still think for himself. Many slaves who had undergone conditioning could not do for themselves the simplest things without a direct order from someone in command. And forget protesting or speaking their minds, that would be painfully discouraged. He’d seen enough slaves and slave owners to know.

Sage reappeared, his hands damp, and, Turles noted, also his feet. His face was shining with what was obviously a recent washing, and his uneven spiky hair had been put into some semblance of order.

“Good job,” said Turles approvingly. The boy had managed all this without getting a single spot of water on his tunic or pants, something Turles was certain he himself could not have accomplished.

Carefully picking up the simply decorated box which held four gel capsules calibrated to the Lady’s specifications, Turles gestured towards the hatch. “Ready?” he asked.

Swallowing audibly, Sage nodded, settling his face into what he hoped showed none of the fear twisting his insides and sidled closer to Turles as the door opened.

Turles’ docking space was located far from the others owing to the cargo he was transporting and two figures were standing at the end of the long walkway. If Sage hadn’t suddenly hidden himself behind Turles, his tail wrapping around the wrist of the hand he now held in a death grip, he would have seen a tall silver-haired woman, her long tresses pulled back into a complicated queue high on her head, shorter locks framing a handsome face with icy blue eyes, and her companion, shorter, slighter with his impossibly red hair twisted into a lavish braid which hung over his right shoulder, the end just tickling the junction of his hip and thigh.

Turles didn’t try to bring the child back to his original position beside him, instead varying his gait to accommodate the boy’s fearful position. It was awkward, but worth it in the grateful trust that flowed from the boy’s personal scent. He stopped a few paces before the Lady and her Companion and bowed respectfully, though a little clumsily because of his shadow's death grip and close presence behind him. As he straightened, Turles carefully held out the box containing her gel capsules.

“My Lady, I present these to you as a token of my respect and thanks for allowing my ship's refueling despite the danger it presents to your space station.” He never changed his greeting, preferring to show the Lady each time he accepted her hospitality, how grateful he truly was. He had been turned away more than once on different gel runs because of the danger presented by raw gel. The Lady, however, seemed to have neither fears nor qualms about his stopover at her station. He had asked her once why that was and her reply had been simple.

“You are neither an incompetent nor a careless person, and my crews are exceptionally trained. That combination alone makes the risk negligible.”

Elegant hands accepted what he jokingly called his “token” gift to her and she smiled. “It seems you are not alone this run, Turles-san; whom, pray tell, have you brought with you?” Beside her, her Companion Mijuku was positively glowing and bouncing on the balls of his perpetually bare feet.

Turles hesitated. “I ask your patience, Lady, he is my cousin, and somewhat...shy.”

Behind Turles, Sage’s eyes were wide. Shy? Well, that was one way of putting it. He knew he couldn’t hide behind Turles forever, but at least for the moment, he could pretend nothing was wrong, and pretend he was safe and no one else was there save his cousin and himself.

Except...except that...scent. There was something maddeningly familiar about one of those scents. Male and yet...he fell over with a noisy, reverberating, *THUND* onto the metal walkway as he realized what was so familiar about that scent. Whoever that male was, he was pregnant.

Quickly, breathing harshly, he drew himself up to his knees, head bent, whispering, “Gomen, gomen, Turles-sama...gomen...”

He heard his mas...no...not master, Turles was his cousin...sigh. He felt his cousin's warmth kneeling beside him, tipping his head upwards and inky black eyes meeting his own...Kami, they really were like Sebba’s...

“Are you hurt?”

Sage shook his head, or tried to within the light grasp on his chin. “No, I’m not hurt, Turles-sama,” he replied softly.

“What happened?”

Sage’s eyes went wide, and he could feel himself trembling. What should he say? What could he say? But before he could say anything, the male in question had joined Turles-sama on the floor beside the kneeling child.

Frank green eyes regarded him, and a mouth obviously made for smiling and grinning and the like quirked beneath a snubbed, generously freckled nose. Sage could make out a rounded belly beneath the gauzy tunic the boy(?) was wearing over a VERY brief pair of shorts, nearly obscured by the bulge of his abdomen.

“Are you all right? That sounded like a very hard fall.”

Sage could only nod, his eyes wide in disbelief. Male pregnancy wasn’t very common, at least not in the species he was familiar with . Saiyjins were one of the few exceptions, and neither his nose nor his memory provided any information on the race of the person kneeling worriedly beside Turles.

“He’s all right, Mijuku, I think he was just surprised.”

Miju giggled sweetly. “Surprised at what, Turles-san?”

Turles smirked. “From his scent, I’d say it was you!”

Miju reached out a hand to help Sage to his feet, but to his surprise and consternation, the boy whimpered and threw his arms around Turles’ thigh, hiding his face and shaking. Questions in his eyes, Mijuku turned to Turles, who sighed.

“Sage, Miju won’t hurt you.”

Hesitantly, Sage brought his face out and looked again into sparkling, emerald eyes. He whispered something nearly inaudible, so Miju barely caught it, though it was clear to Turles. “He’s going to be a sebba?”

“That’s right, child,” said Turles with a smile. “And the Lady is the baby’s papa, I suppose you’d say.”

Sage’s scent was twice as confused as it had been previously. That wasn’t...possible...was it? Male pregnancy, ok, fine. But they were always impregnated by other males, weren’t they? And this...boy? he looked awfully young to be with, here he stole a glance at the Lady who was simply standing and waiting for the men to get up off the floor, with her...was he…

“Turles-sama,” whispered Sage again. “Is...is Mijuku her...slave?” He nearly jumped out of his skin as the Lady erupted in laughter.

“No, child,” she said, her deep voice reverberating around the chamber. “If anything, it is the other way around. But enough, shall we continue this discussion in my office?”

“I think that would be a good idea, Lady,” said Turles, dragging a completely confused Sage to his feet and following the staccato cadence of the Lady’s heeled boots to her private office, Miju all but dancing along behind them, his gait, per usual, genki and bouncing.

Sage stumbled alongside Turles, until the man realized he was having trouble keeping up and scooped him into his arms. For a change, Sage didn’t protest. Not a word was spoken until the heavy doors closed behind them and Sage found himself in a large, simply decorated office. The Lady gestured to comfortable chairs and settled her tall frame behind an ornate desk, Miju practically draped across her lap.

Turles set Sage down and moved to sit in one of the proffered chairs, and groaned as Sage, out of habit it seemed, sank to his knees beside the chair Turles had chosen.

“Sage, please, sit in the chair.” The boy didn’t move, but his scent clearly showed his uncertainty and apprehension. Turles frowned and made to move the boy himself, but was stopped by a small noise from Mijuku. He glanced up and caught a small shake of the Companion’s head. He scowled and made to pick Sage up, but was stopped again, this time by the Lady.

“Leave him be, Turles-kun. If that is where he is most comfortable, there is no reason he shouldn’t stay there.”

“Lady, with all due respect, I’ve been trying to get him out of this mindset,” said Turles evenly. “It has been difficult these past few days, but we had been making progress,”

Miju interrupted, his sweet voice carrying effortlessly across the vast expanse of the desk. “But he’s in a different environment, and he is still unsure of himself. Let him have what is familiar to him, for now. It will do him no harm, you will see.”

Turles growled, and the Lady thwacked the top of her desk sharply with the fan she held in her hand. “Enough,” she said, pointing the fan at him. “I won’t have that in my presence, Turles. Behave yourself.”

“Lady Rihai, the boy is in my care…”

“And you are guests on my space station. You will act as befits an escort to the heir of the throne of Vegeta-sei or you will wait on your ship until the refuel and check is completed.”

Sage’s head jerked up, a low whimper escaping his throat, his trembling actually audible to everyone in the room. Turles, however, didn’t seem surprised in the slightest the Lady had recognized his charge. He merely sighed, and nodded, his tail lashing once, then settling around his waist, comfortably. He put his hand down, fingers lacing in the short, uneven spikes on the boy’s head. “It’s all right, Sage, I told you before, you can trust the Lady.” To Cleo he said, “He’s concerned about returning home, and I’d prefer if no one outside this room knew his identity.”

The Lady Cleo Rihai nodded. “You’ve not yet contacted his parents then, I presume?”

Turles shook his head. “We’re still out of range for all but messages, and as you know there’s any number of ways a message could get lost or re-directed. I want to speak with my cousin face to face when I tell them about this, that way there’s no trouble.”

“Hai, if word got out, if you sent a message and it was intercepted, you might find yourself under attack from those wishing to cash in on the substantial reward the Crown is offering for his return.

Turles nodded. “That is a possibility, and with that is also the possibility of another attempted kidnapping. Not that I would allow it, but the risk with a shipment of raw gel...not everyone is smart enough to stay away from a gel transport.” He smirked wryly at the Lady who smirked back, enjoying their continuing, shared joke.

Unnoticed by both Turles and Sage, Miju had slipped off Cleo’s lap and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor beside Sage, not trying to touch him, nor make him feel uncomfortable, merely trying to get the boy used to his presence. He smiled softly as Sage, alerted to his being there looked at him fearfully and cowered closer to the chair Turles was sitting in.

“It’s all right,” said Miju softly, holding his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you, it’s just...you’re Saiyjin, right? Like Turles-san?”

Glancing up at Turles, who appeared to be deep in conversation with the Lady, Sage hesitantly looked back at Mijuku and nodded. He started as Miju performed a kind of sitting bounce, clapping his hand together gleefully. “Oh goody!!! See, I’m going to have a baby, and it’s not often I get to meet people who are used to seeing a pregnant boy.” He paused. “You have seen pregnant boys...men before, haven’t you?”

Sage nodded. Mijuku beamed. “Tell me; do you have a mother or a...what is a man who can have babies called on Vegeta-sei again?”

“The proper term is onkru’kah,” said Sage softly. “That means child-bearing male, almost exactly.”

Miju nodded. “Oh yeah, now I remember! But what does a Saiyjin child call its onkru’kah parent? Did you have one? Or do you have a mother?”

“Hai, I have a father and a sebba. But we called him “mama” a lot,” said Sage, smiling despite his discomfort.

Miju laughed delightedly. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

Sage’s face fell. “Um...I actually don’t really know. I used to have three brothers, but before...before, papa and sebba were talking about trying for a girl...maybe they did while I...wasn’t there.”

“Were you gone a long time?”

A whisper. “Forever.”

“I bet you want to go home really badly, ne?”

Sage shook his head, unwanted tears welling in his eyes.

Miju frowned. “But...you miss them, why don’t you want to go back to them?”

Sage abruptly re-arranged himself, sitting down and drawing his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs and burying his face in his folded arms. His voice was muffled as he answered, “They’re better off without me, all of them.”

Instinctively, Miju moved closer and put his arms around the boy. “That’s not true.”

“You don’t know...you don’t know what I’ve done...what’s happened...”

“And I don’t need to. That hasn’t changed you, not the you inside. It hasn’t made you less their child, or brother.”

Sage’s voice was low. “They won’t want me when they find out. And you probably wouldn’t want to touch me if you knew.”

“That’s silly, you’re all warm and snuggly!” Miju’s voice was cheerful. “I’d snuggle with you all day and night if I thought I could get away with it!!!” He punctuated the statement with a loud kiss on Sage’s forehead. “There. The Mijuku seal of approval.” His voice grew serious. “No matter what happened to you, you can’t let that beat you. I know it’s hard in the beginning, but eventually it won’t be the focus of your life anymore.” Slender fingers traced a thin scar on Sage’s cheek. “You’ve been hurt, badly, I can see that. But you survived. And you’re safe now. And your brothers and Papa and Sebba will be so happy to have you back home. And so will the rest of your people, Vegeta no Ouji.”

Sage’s head slowly rose until his endless, obsidian eyes meeting shining green ones. A slow, quiet voice whispered, “How did you know my Name? I haven’t even told Turles, not that he didn’t know, the announcement was made at my Naming ceremony.”

Miju smiled secretively, and seemed about to answer when they were interrupted by the Lady. “Mijuku.”

“Yes, Mama?”

“How would you like to take Sage shopping to get some apparel that fits him, down on the Commerce deck?”

Miju bounced to his feet, a move that probably should have been impossible, given his gravid state. He squealed and dashed over to the Lady, flinging his arms around her neck and kissing her face repeatedly. “Oh, Mama, that would be so much fun!!!”

She put her arms around him, laughing. “Yes, yes, brat, take him and go have fun. I trust your judgment.” She leaned down and kissed him deeply, her hands roaming to his prominent belly bulge, caressing it softly through the translucent material clinging to it.

Sage meanwhile was clinging to Turles. “No, no, no, no, please, Turles-sama, I don’t want to go, PLEASE!!”

Turles spoke soothingly. “Sage, shh...it’s all right. You trust me, ne?” Sage nodded tearfully, his eyes meeting Turles’. “Then trust me on this. I swear, you are safe with Miju.” He leaned closer and whispered in Sage’s ear. “There’s more to him than meets the eye, brat.” He straightened, and said clearly. “You are to go with Mijuku, Sage, get some clothes that fit, and shoes as well.” He looked levelly at Sage, gauging his response. Miju padded over and took Sage’s hand, almost protectively.

“Please, Sage-kun? It’ll be lots of fun!!”

Slightly confused, Sage glanced back and forth between Turles and Mijuku, frantically scenting them both, his tail lashing as much as the gel around the base would let it. Turles trusted Miju, he wanted him to go with the boy, Miju wanted Sage to go with him, wanted Sage to trust him, and that scent...it really reminded him of Sebba...when Sebba had been pregnant with the twins, and Papa...when he was pregnant with Gohan. It was very soothing and comforting to be around...protective... slowly he turned to look back at Turles. Slowly, he nodded, and let himself be led off by a bubbling Mijuku.

Turles sighed as the door closed behind the two boys. He turned back to Cleo, and said, almost pleadingly, “What am I going to do?”

Herself snorted. “Looks like you’re doing just fine to me. You can’t get rid of a conditioned slave mindset overnight. And you’ve got an advantage...they never broke him completely.”

“You’re sure about that?”

She nodded, thoughtfully. “Probably because they left him intact. It would have been a different story if he had been de-tailed like most Saiyjin slaves.”

Turles shuddered. “Please,” he begged. “Don’t talk about that.”

She smirked. Turles scowled. “It’s not funny, damnit.”

She continued smirking. “I know it’s not funny, baka. But your reaction is.”

Turles scowled. “Seriously though, I’m worried about him. I haven’t been able to get him to tell me what happened to him, beyond the story of one of his owners who was actually good to him. All I know beyond that is he was a pleasure slave, he still bears the brands, the first slavers cut his hair, one of his first owners was the one to put the ki restraint cuff on his tail. I suppose I ought to be grateful for that,” Turles paused. “I feel like I’m in over my head with him.”

“And you probably are,” replied the Lady evenly. “Just calm down. Let’s wait and see what Mijuku can get out of him, and you can decide how you want to proceed from there.”

Turles looked skeptical. “You think Mijuku will be able to get Sage to trust him after only a few hours of knowing the boy? I’ve had him with me four days, and he still doesn’t trust me.”

“He trusts you more than you realize. As for Mijuku...he has a…way...about him. I think you’ll be surprised at what he’ll be able to unearth in regards to the young Ouji.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, the young Ouji and the young Companion were prowling the Commerce deck. Or rather, Miju was bouncing along the deck dragging a skittery Sage along behind him.

“Mijuku-sama, please…” gasped Sage as the older boy squealed and bounced to a stall which displayed silky tunics in bright, eye-catching colors, many embroidered with delicate patterns in metallic golds and silvers.

“I told you; just call me Mijuku, or Miju, or even Mi...please don’t call me ‘sama’, it makes me feel OLD!!! Look at this!” he pointed to a scarlet tunic with gorgeous patterns embroidered in gold. “That would look spectacular on you! Let’s see if they have one in your size!”

“No, please, Mijuku-sa…Mijuku-kun...it’s too bright and too expensive for me.”

Miju snorted. “Silly boy, there’s nothing on this deck that’s too expensive for you, and as for being too bright, you watch, put it on, it’s not too bright, I promise.” He dragged Sage over to the counter and in less time than it takes to tell of it, Sage was wearing the medium long tunic with Miju going over it critically. “Good workmanship and the material hangs nicely on your frame,” he announced. “Now, look in the mirror,” he directed Sage. Obeying, Sage turned, and gasped. He looked like a completely different person. And Miju had been right. Hanging on the booth, the tunic had seemed almost offensively bright and gaudy, but on him the silky material had tempered itself, or so it appeared, and it complimented his coloring almost perfectly.

“See?” whispered Miju in his ear. “I told you so.” Sage could only nod. “We’ll take this one,” chirped Miju at the shopkeeper who smiled and nodded, ringing up the sale, adding the price of the tunic to the Lady’s tab.

Miju frowned as he turned back to Sage who had already wriggled out of the tunic and was pulling Turles’ ill fitting dark blue tunic back over his head. The red-head winced at the multitude of scars criss-crossing the child’s back...he knew it wasn’t easy to scar a Saiyjin. What the child must have undergone he understood more than he had let on to Sage. Sighing, he collected the tunic and handed it to the shopkeeper to wrap up. “The next one we buy, you’re keeping on,” he informed Sage mock-sternly, then regretted his tone at once as Sage’s head lowered and his posture assumed one of submissiveness. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said repenititively. “I only meant you should wear something that fits you, that’s the reason we’re shopping, ok?”

Sage nodded, still keeping his eyes lowered. Miju chose to ignore it, instead clasping his hand and taking the parcel the shopkeeper handed to him they continued to the next stall.

By the time they stopped to get something to eat, Sage had been re-outfitted in black pants which had been tailored to fit his small frame and accommodate his tail, a grey long-sleeved shirt and a blue sleeveless tunic of such a color it managed to be bright and dark at the same time and brought out the highlights in his short hair and long tail. Their arms were loaded down with bags which held similar clothing though Sage had balked at underclothing. Miju, after arguing with him for a few minutes figured out why and quietly purchased a few packages of briefs he was certain would fit the boy. Sage could “alter” them later, to make way for his tail. They hadn’t yet set out for shoes, but after listening to Sage’s stomach growl, Miju had announced the baby was hungry and it was past time for all of them to eat. Sage had actually grinned at that and followed the older boy to the food court.

Mijuku paused at the entrance and handed the packages to one of the attendants there, with instructions to send them up to the Lady’s office. The attendant had bowed and gone off immediately as Miju took Sage’s hand once again and led him to a table.

“What do you want to eat?” asked Miju. “The baby wants...hn...meat sticks and lots of fruit and seared veggies and mmmm...those yummy pastries for dessert!!!”

Sage looked helplessly at the genki boy.

“What’s the matter? I know you’re hungry, what do you want to eat?”

“I...I...I don’t know,” Sage finally admitted, not voicing what he was thinking, why was everyone continually asking what he wanted?

“Hn. Well then, I’ll pick some things out for you, and if you don’t like them, we can get something else, ne?”

Sage could only nod as Miju placed a startlingly large order with the server who had come over to their table. When that was finished, Miju leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. Wide, emerald eyes regarded Sage solemnly.

“So...what do you want to tell me?”

Sage looked startled. “Tell you?”

“Yep. You’ve got a lot on your mind and I know you want to talk to someone about it, why not me?”

Sage shook his head. “No, Mijuku-kun...I apologize if I gave you that impression...”

Grinning, Miju deftly changed the subject. “Hey, the baby is moving, come over here and feel!!!”

Out of habit, borne of three long years of obeying others, Sage moved over to Miju’s chair and stopped. Smiling, Mijuku caught his hand and lowered it to his belly bulge, chuckling at the look crossing Sage’s face as the tiny child within him moved about, wriggling and kicking little fluttering kicks. Of his own accord, Sage knelt beside the boy in the chair, pressing his other hand beside the first one and laying his cheek against the taut roundness, feeling the baby nestled in it's snug womb.

“He’s happy,” murmured Sage dreamily. “He’s very happy in there, happy you are his mama, wondering where his papa is...he’s so warm and cozy and it’s such fun to flip about, isn’t it, baby?” he asked quietly of the swell beneath his fingers and cheek. “Safe, you’re all safe in there, little one...don’t worry.”

At that moment the food came, snapping Sage from his near-trance as he hastily stood and made to apologize when Mijuku stopped him, green eyes shining as he flipped the end of his braid over his shoulder. “Thank you, Sage-kun, that was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever felt in my life!!!”

Embarrassed, but pleased just the same, Sage went back to his seat and watched Miju load his plate from the serving dishes. He was halfway through his first plateful when he realized Sage wasn’t eating.

“I thought Saiyjins were always hungry,” he remarked, his mouth full of meat. “How come you aren’t eating?”

Sage didn’t answer, and Miju gasped in realization. “Sage, this food is for you to eat too, please, please help yourself to whatever you want!!!”

“I...I can’t, gomen.” Sage hung his head, studying the bare tabletop directly in front of him. Truthfully he was extremely hungry, his body having happily adjusted in the past few days to being fed regularly. He jumped as a full plate was shoved beneath his nose, and he lifted his eyes to meet Miju’s sorrowful ones.

“It’s ok, I understand. Just eat now, and we’ll figure it out later.” And puzzled at the boy’s statement, Sage had.

Miju talked casually, around bites, about little things, stuff about Turles-san, about his “Mama”, about the baby...occasionally asking Sage for an answer to a question. And slowly, Sage felt something inside him begin to unfold as the scarlet-haired boy continued to talk.

“Mama rescued me, you know, I was in an orphanage and she found me and took me away from there.” He shivered slightly. “It was a bad place. How did Turles-san rescue you?”

Without thinking, Sage answered, “My last Master, before Turles-sama, was a Foredeann gel broker. He made me serve during the negotiations of Turles-sama’s last deal. He wanted to put Turles-sama off balance, and instead he ended up losing me.”

Miju seemed to be paying rapt attention. “What happened? Did he blast him? Rip his spine out? Gouge his eyeballs out and feed them to him?”

“Nope. None of that. He outsmarted Refuid and paid far less than I was worth on the open slave market as a trained pleasure slave. And still kept the deal open for future gel transactions”

“WOW!” Miju’s eyes were wide with open admiration. “So, how did the heir to the throne of Vegeta-sei end up on the slave market?” The question was posed in an innocent enough tone, and Sage again found himself answering without thinking about what he was saying.

“I was kidnapped on my tenth birthday. The kidnappers held me for ransom, but when they got the money, they didn’t turn me over the way they said they were going to. One of them claimed he knew a tracking team was following the money and none of them would get out alive even if I was turned over. He convinced them to sell me to a group of slavers.” He shrugged sadly. “After that, I didn’t know anything more. Turles-sama told me the tracking team caught up with the kidnappers and slaughtered the whole bunch when they didn’t find me. But it was too late for me. By the way I figure it, I had already been conditioned and sold to my first master by the time they caught up with the kidnappers.” He sighed unhappily, running elegant fingers through his thick, short spikes. Miju watched, tears welling in his emerald eyes he forbade to let fall. He noticed the uneven way Sage’s hair had been cut and had an idea.

“You know, we have some really good hair cutters on this station, we could fix your hair so it didn’t look so...uneven, you know, the way it stands up in some places, and not in others, the way it is all different lengths...”

Sage shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s taken three years to get my hair this long, I won’t have it cut again.”

“But it would make it look better...”

“No. Thank you, but no. Saiyjin hair grows very slowly. Eventually all my hair will reach the length it is intended to be and will stop growing. Cutting it now would only make it so I have to wait longer for that day.”

Miju was openly curious. “Do Saiyjins never cut their hair then?”

“Never. Not ever,” replied Sage firmly. “A Saiyjin is born with all the hair they’ll ever have. My uncle ‘Ditsu has hair down past his knees, it’s always been that length, proportionate to his body. My sebba’s and my younger twin’s hair goes in all directions, like Turles-sama’s hair. The elder twin, Toranksu’s hair is much straighter, but it has lots of cowlicks, so it spikes here and there, but it’s very very black, with lush purple highlights. It’s very pretty. And Gohan’s hair is long, though not so long as Uncle ‘Ditsu’s and very spiky like Sebba’s.”

“So what is your hair supposed to look like?”

“It used to sorta, sweep up, all on one spike...kind of like the flame of a candle. Like my sire’s and grandsire’s hair.” His face fell. “They just cut it off like it was nothing...didn’t care...” He sighed. “But it’s growing.” He sat back in his chair, stomach full and watched Miju polish off the last, sweet pastry. Once the older boy had eaten every last crumb and licked each finger, he bounced up and grabbed Sage’s hand, caroling, “Time for shoes, Sage-kun!!!”

Sage groaned, but grinned at the genki boy, one could hardly do anything else, as he followed Miju’s bouncing footsteps out of the food court.

They stopped at the third shoe stall they came across, Miju dismissing the first two as having low quality shoes. For his part, Sage wasn’t sure he could wear shoes, after all he had gone barefoot for the vast majority of the past three years, regardless of the climate of the planet he happened to be on.

“Sit down,” Miju directed Sage as he walked over to find the cobbler. He came back with a Genkan in tow. Genkans were without exception a gentle race, and an oddity because their arms were asymmetrical, meaning they had two on one side, and only one on the other. They were lightly furred all over, with colors varying from the lightest beige to dark green. The shop master, Gadrrrile, was a light forest green with warm maroon eyes. Sage was so caught up in studying the gentle shoemaker, memorizing his faintly woody scent he nearly missed Miju’s instructions.

“He hasn’t worn shoes in a long time, Gadrrrile, so whatever you use has to be very soft, but strong as well. Can you do that?”

The being smiled, showing flat, herbivorous teeth and nodded. “Of course, of course I can do that, little Master, let’s see the small one’s feet then.” He sat down on a little stool before Sage and lifted one of Sage's feet carefully in one hand, while the other two were busy taking measurements. “Ach, your sole is leather-like, small one. Your feet will not take kindly to the shoes if they do not fit exactly.” He chuckled, his voice thin, but strangely resonant in a pleasant sort of way. It agreed with Sage’s range of hearing and he smiled, actually relaxed in the shoemaker's presence.

In short order, Gadrrrile had one pair of shoes finished, in a soft black bysenite leather, made, as he said, to go with anything Miju had picked out for Sage to wear earlier. The cobbler chuckled at the nearly indignant squeak Miju made at that statement and continued working on a pair of boots. Sage had protested the need for more than one pair of shoes, but Miju, and surprisingly, Gadrrrile, had been firm. “I know Saiyjins, small one, and I know they generally prefer to wear boots. I wouldn’t recommend wearing them now, but in a few weeks, when your feet are more used to being shod, try them on and see if you can manage.” Reluctantly, Sage had given in and was currently trying on one boot, marveling at the soft inside of the master’s work when a voice over the general noise of the shopping crowd froze his blood in his veins.

“BOY!!! Getcher fucking ass over here!!!” Miju groaned at the drunken Inndruds and turned to see how the boot was fitting Sage. He gasped at the change that had come over the boy. All the color had gone from the child’s face and he was shaking violently. Gadrrrile was trying in vain to calm the child down, but nothing he said seemed to get through to the frightened boy.

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME, YOU LITTLE FUCKING SLUT???”

Sage whimpered, and Miju gasped. The drunk alien was headed towards them, his eyes unmistakably fixed on Sage.

“No...please...no...please, Turles-sama, please...” was all the boy seemed to be able to say.

As Sage cowered in the chair and the drunken Inndruds lurched closer, Miju got a peculiar look in his eyes and placed himself squarely between Sage and the impending trouble heading their way.

The Inndruds stopped in front of Miju, barely a hand span taller than the usually genki boy, who was suddenly infused with an almost tangible wealth of strength. His voice was calm as he lifted an eyebrow at the alien in front of him. “Something for you?”

“Out of my way, boy, that’s my slave you’re keeping me from. My property, he was stolen from me.”

Still calm, and with an edge of steel to his voice, Miju spoke once more. “He is no one's slave, least of all yours. I suggest you leave now, before this gets ugly. I will not permit you to harm that child, he is under the protection of the Lady of this station.”

The Inndruds snorted. “Lady nothin’, and nothin’ and no one including your skinny ass is gonna keep my property from me!!” He made as to brush Miju aside, but quicker than anyone could see, the bulky alien was flat on his back, crashed through the stall across the way.

The bulky alien rose and charged back over to the shoe stall and without any warning Sage screamed. Miju glanced behind him, keeping one careful eye on the approaching Inndruds and watched in amazement as Sage flickered gold around his edges, his eyes wide and fearful. Before Miju could decide what to do about this new turn of events, a raging black blur had appeared and was beating the Inndruds into a bloody paste, leaving Miju to try and calm Sage. He didn’t quite dare touch the boy, but he spoke, calmly, willing the child to hear him, pointing out Turles, who was pulling himself with some difficulty from the now pulpy alien, brushing greenish-brown blood from his hands. Turning to Sage, Turles crossed the short distance to the distraught child and without regard to life or limb, gathered the sobbing boy into his arms, purring and speaking soothingly. As the crowd watched, Sage’s visible aura calmed, then vanished entirely as he passed out limply in his guardian’s arms.

To be continued...