Planet vegeta is a rough world to live in and saiyan's thrive on it. Particularly the gravity; how it affects all of your typical aspects of daily life. For races across the galaxy incapable of raising their combat strength to a certain level, it is a death trap. Only the strongest beasts flourished, hardiest stock kept up their endless grazing, and overall it was like food was made for warriors. Each animal was roided out. The environment they captured for their home ages ago was perfect for their needs, with enough space to grow for ages, yet the idea of sharing the wealth died with the previous king. Now only the strong are fed the best meals. While those at a place like the prison only got scraps, the left over fat, trash, and bones.
While the nobility eat out of lavish celebratory banquets in the high halls of the King's castle, there are those getting even less than scraps, like the grubby, unsanitary, and overcrowded lines in the prison.
The desolate looking landscapes are peppered with mountains and real green, surviving large, and unassuming patches. Small lakes, rivers, and ponds dot the land. In the middle of the vast pink wasteland was a walled deteriorating single level base. The perimeter is a barbed wire fence only to slightly deter runaways; their real challenge would always be the guards who were significantly stronger than the strongest prisoner.
To the east, casting an impossible imposing shadow is the capital formally known as Jakushita city. When the current king took the throne the change to Vegeta came shortly after. The large castle sat atop a mountain overlooking the greater majority of the city. It was cylinder shaped towers, several connected by bridges and tipped in a massive antenna. Like most structures on the planet it was constructed of a type of white steel. The overlooking city itself was the commercial hub along with the strongest bases and middle to elite class residency, although this is mostly due to pay disparages based on merit. The current king cares less about rank promotions and more about results.
To the south of that is low class residencies and farms for the high protein meat they covet. The southeastern mountains lead to the base of the flame squadron.The west held the second highest conglomeration of bases on the planet called Kusatta city. Finally the north held the technologically bases and housing for aliens working on the planet.
***
Splat!
The wet green, oily pile of chunky slop splattered across the metal tray. Then the next and onward until the line emptied. By the end of the line the slug looking lady dropped her ladle into the vat of extra slop. It looked only halfway empty, but it would remain that way. No one was going for seconds.
The cafeteria was filled with a sea of dark hair and scuffed white armor. With everyone sitting still and consuming their slop you could see individuals properly. The prison had no utensils, meaning the prisoners had to dig into the food with their bare hands. Licking their fingers clean became a necessary habit.
"I got a few decent hits in on those big guys, I'm telling you, hitting them with your head is the way to go," said the mischievous teen boy. His head had hair the shape of cones jutting out all over his head.
The group of teens he sat with weren't amused, although one of the rejects laughed.
"300..you sure the inside of your head didn't turn into this yet?" He points down at his pile of slop.
Following that a girl sitting beside him stuck her finger in his ear pulling it out and ribbing him with "yep it's leaking out of ears right as we speak".
300 jerked his head back and held his violated ear. Resigning himself to listening to his group's obnoxious laughter. Coincidentally his number was the smallest and he had been there longer.
Across the room a trio of bald heads knocked with a trip of patched heads. Well, they were regretting escalating the situation as much as they did. Because they paled in comparison to the lanky brute who now stood above them.
"Go get me more food" the brute with "25" scratched into his chest demanded with a bored tone.
"Go, before the boss beats ya" an imp like teen boy with similar patchy hair spat. His partner, a similar patchy haired imp of a teen, shooed them away with a hand gesture.
"Like we care about your boss's food." Spoke one of the skinheads.
"You shouldn't have kept on the dam floor," said another.
The second imp, with his canines showing, looked back at 25. Noting his current expectant indifference, then snapping back to face the trio with a preemptive sneer.
"The boss keeps his food where he pleases" the imp finally says. His chest has 325 on it, while his partner was marked 326.
Their exchange seemed to lack the means to break the building tension. The trio of bald-headed individuals were a self proclaimed gang with their marks being "7,17, and 77".
Eventually the lanky brute dispelled any confusion. Long veiny fingers gripped one of the bald headed men, pushing his thumb practically in the eye as if his head were a bowling ball. A totally coincidence that made the victim cry out in pain.
"Eyaaaaaah" number 17 wailed as he was being lifted up by his head. Hands gripping at the wrist of the hand pulling him off the ground.
"Where's my food?" The brute frowned. Not getting a response he started to shake the bald headed guy off the ground. "Wheeeeeeere is it!"
The bald prisoners' two cohorts were scrambling as the imps laughed it off.
It took awhile, but the prison regained its energy as it always did after a grueling battle royal. Even as the lowest of the low, the saiyan natural ability to adapt to situations beyond their control pushed them to that irritable neutral state they all were consumed by.
The crowd jeered at the sight of a brawl taking place. Bored prisoners invited excitement they didn't need to be involved in directly especially because it ended like this.
Whap! Crunch!
The bald man's face crashed into the ground right after. Blood spurting from his broken nose and teeth; painting an impact outward from his head.
Not a soul got up to help him. Just his cohorts scrambling to grab a second plate of food for the brute. They were fond of their teeth, for no particular reason other than the fact that removing them would be painful. Only after 25 had his food did they pick up 17 by his limbs and prepare to haul him off.
"Hey where are you going!?"
"What about our food?"
The imps were clearly messing with them because they had trays of food right behind them, half consumed slowly with the evidence dripping down their fingers and lips.
"You-" number 77 spoke up, grumbling before being stumped by the glimpse number 25 was giving them.
"Grrrrmmm" The lanky brute growled, aimless, but weaponized by the smirks on the faces of numbers 325 and 326.
In the end the imps got their way, but that food ended up with 25, along with half of theirs as well. The gang of 7s lost face to the brute and his imps.
***
On the other side of the building sat a room ill-equipped to deal with any severe injuries. The prison base had an infirmary, one headed by an alien woman with a purple triceratops-like crown and a beak for a mouth. Her cheery vibe didn't fit the prison at all. With her anxious tail slapping and singing song tones, she had been avoided by the majority of the prison. Except for when they couldn't avoid her.
Crash!
The door swung wide open and stole the attention of the purple alien. She stood at medium height, taller than most, shorter than adult males. She had been speaking to a scruffy haired saiyan boy sitting on a stool in front of a small table. The large tail trailing under her tattered white coat could have whipped the child sitting contentedly behind her if not for the elegant care in her movements. Sharp three toed feet stepping with unnaturally light grace.
"budo!" a rough sounding duo calls out to the woman. Two shorter adult rejects, catching their breath from hauling the tallest member.
"Fix up his face" demands number 7.
"Hmm" she chirps softly and peers down at the trio with soft orange eyes. "But, 7's face is already so handsome, how could I fix it?"
Her whole personality unnerved the vast majority of the base, her unique silhouette matched with her light footed stride, and the fact that she seemed like the only person who wanted to be there. They had to deal with her antics to receive the only help in the prison that didn't come with a cost.
After some blunt convincing; showing her the damage itself, Budo got to cleaning 17's face. Nose fixed and bleeding staunched. He was gonna look funny, but all of the 777 gang were a joke from the start. They entirely glossed over the pale boy sitting with his tail in his lap.
***
"Tch" 17 clicked his tongue off one of his missing front teeth. Not happy at all, picturing a particular saiyan in mind as he drags his partners off.
No thanks given or expected for that matter. Just a creaky door barely in the door frame, one that budo was able to order in a while back. It was a priority on her list of things to improve here–a small step to a truly impossible goal she fully recognized.
"Teacher, why are you so nice to everyone" a monotonous tone came from across the room.
"Because, as they say in my family, hate someone? Let them know just how much you love them. Do it with a smile." she says with all seriousness, despite the fact her mouth can't barely form the same type as him. It's in her eyes, the way she looks at people, but Budo in a lapse of judgement does not explain this.
Without either of them realizing the boy with scruffy hair was internalizing this information. He was thinking something along the lines of ("her expression is a smile") while fully recognising their differences. Still he needed to question the obvious contradictory attitude. The best he could muster was a raised eyebrow.
"Ok..but what about the people i like?"
"You really mean it" she responds snappily. Before he could get her to elaborate further she adds "speaking of which, don't you have a friend I need?"
The boy wearing the same armor as the rest of the prisoners, as if they represented something, stood off the stool. He sighed, but had resigned himself to doing the thing he was reminded of.
"I could have continued practicing my writing, but 456 is probably done now right?" 455 himself says in a tone that seems to forever remain at the level. Like he himself didn't know which task was more important.
Būdo nods and hands him a pouch of the same water they all drink. The container wasn't readily available so they had to use it wisely.
"Have fun little one" she refers to him fondly, watching his back as he exits the room without looking back.
Only a few moments later did another person enter the room.
"Alright Būdo your games are causing people to start looking at me again" the man with disheveled hair and a beard complained only to be immediately placated with two slabs of dried meat.
Snatching them out of the air he immediately ate one of them. Glaring at the woman. He absolutely destroyed the hand sized rectangle of meat in just a minute.
"Real food," he exclaims, the truth overwhelming him. "It's unbelievably cruel this damn prison. Sitting around all day and forgetting my name, but being forced to eat that.. that.."
Būdo just smiled while listening to the homeless looking saiyan rant.
"And we aren't gonna forget about the fact that everyone thinks I snatch up the young prisoners now…69 and her mouth."
Būdo just let him continue on ranting. Meanwhile her student was arriving before his friend.
***
When 455 had arrived to the back of the prison all he saw was his friend kneeling in the pink floor that's most gravel. His hands pushing off the ground as he heard someone approaching.
The scruffy haired boys timing was perfect. His friend with a dark crown of spikes for hair, his bangs that whip sharply to one side had pink dust coating it. It's whipped and dusted off as he flips onto his butt. Eyes flickering with slight disappointment.
455 has no idea what the make of the look he's been receiving lately. 456 just had sides to him that he never could come to understand. He was curious so he asks.
"456, why do you have to come here everyday." He says while lightly tossing him the pouch.
The boy only fumbled with it for a second before twisting the cap and drinking the not fully filtered water like it was his last cup of water ever. Then and only when the thing was empty did he respond.
"Thanks..and I don't know." he answers with a grin.
455's lips curled into a negative smile–no he was just frowning.
"You know why. Zukki.." he starts, but doesn't know how to explain the desire he has to fill the hole forming im his life. He had been quick to attach himself to the joy he felt from watching her fight.
"Hey is there a Z on your chest or something?" He asks, bored sounding when actually fully invested. His finger pointing to the number "456"
456 looked down at his chest and shrugs. "Um what's Z?" He asks while tilting his head in confusion. "This is four hundred and fifty six right?"
"No..i..was. Zukki starts with the letter Z. You are not her."
"I know"
"But you enjoy getting beaten up? Really?"
"I don't know"
The two of them reach a stalemate where 455's down doesn't deepen. He just sighs and reaches out to take his friends hand.
"Well i guess that's why you still don't know what Z is" the mono neutral expression returns to 455 moments after it left and his tone cooled down from its lukewarm heat.
"And why you don't know how to not get hit" he grins mischievously enough for the both of them.
The two of them then went eat as they've done for weeks of their lives already. It's been six days since Zukki had been taken away and neither of them thought she would return by this point.