Going Native: Smell of Change (ch.17) (Patreon)

I made a strategic retreat from the command deck after learning how long it was going to take to reach our destination. This fleet used a different kind of FTL, something about ripping a hole in the space-time continuum, so the Reach’s typical means of delaying an invasion wouldn’t work. Still, apparently ripping holes in the space-time continuum was a bad thing, so to punish us it would take an entire week to get to Rench. But, somehow, at the same time, it would only take like three seconds to get there in normal time. 

It sounded like a mess of really big math numbers, so I wasn’t going to waste my time trying to figure it out. What it meant was that I had two weeks to convince my team to follow me into battle. Given just how vital Rench was to the Reach’s war effort, this could be out most intense battle yet. I needed to prove myself before then or otherwise, if they didn’t obey my commands, they could get themselves killed. 

And, just as likely, I could be ordering them to their deaths, my brain treacherously whispered to me as I made my way down the halls. I tried to push my doubts away, but they refused to go into the little black box of dark thoughts I never wanted to think about again. Doubts that I could do what Lord Frieza wanted me to. Doubts that I could be what he wanted me to become. 

Bardock was Bardock. I was just me. 

A sigh escaped me as a hand went to my new necklace, the reassuring weight felt more like an anchor as I wandered the halls, trying to find an answer to my many questions. I was tempted to just crawl into a healing pod and sleep the next two weeks away. Maybe it would be better if I just let Tora run the show. It certainly would be easier instead of trying to establish my own authority over them. 

But...A sigh escaped me as I ran a hand through my hair. I just woke up after a month of sleep, and I already felt like I could sleep for another. I couldn’t just pass this responsibility to another. Lord Frieza himself wanted me to become the face of the Saiyan race, he wanted me to become so strong and powerful and respected that whenever the galaxy thought of a saiyan, they would think of me. 

No, I had to do this. The question was how?

“If you keep making that face, it’s going to get stuck like that,” Queen Teach’s voice broke me out of my thoughts, making me blink, glancing up I saw that she was smiling widely at me, her hands on her hips. “What are you thinking about so hard, little guy?”

“Uhh…” I didn’t know how to handle this new Queen Teach. Her treating me with utter indifference? Sure, I could handle that easily. Heck, that was normal for me. This whole...motherly thing was throwing me through more than a few hoops. Seriously, what in the hell was going on with her? “I was thinking about my team?” I tried cautiously, only a little surprised when she picked me up like I was some kind of stuffed animal. 

“Ah, I heard about that. You’re in charge of the planetary elite squad now, aren’t you?” Queen Teach said as she...deposited me onto her back, forcing me to hold onto her shoulder. I...I don’t understand. Was...was this all because she thought I was a part of the royal family now? 

“I am…” I trailed off, not sure what to say. I made leaps and bounds when it came to my awkwardness, but I had absolutely no clue how to handle this entire situation. It was such harsh contrast from the same woman who completely wrote me off mere moments after I left the gestation tank as dead meat. 

“Appointed by Frieza himself. I guess it’s not just Vegeta that he sees greatness in,” Queen Teach commented casually, earing a flush from me. I wasn’t used to receiving such blatant praise from anyone. “So, what’s bugging you so badly?”

“I…” I trailed off again, frowning. This...this is what I wanted. Queen Teach was acting like a mom. A human mom. These kinds of interactions were what I fought for years to one day have. I spilled gallons of blood and sweat to one day call the woman that I was riding on like a monkey mother, and she was giving it to me. All because I… “I’m not apart of the royal fam-”

“Vegeta told me you turned it down before we left,” Queen Teach interrupted. Wait, what? Then why was she so...nice? “I get where you’re coming from. I’d be pissed too if I worked my butt off for something then it gets handed to me out of the blue." She knew? She knew I wasn't a part of the family? 

Queen Teach reached back to rustle my hair as she lead us down the halls to an unknown destination. "And I couldn't care less about what your father has to say on the matter. As far as I'm concerned, you're my son." 

Don't cry. I couldn't cry. I fought back tears and snot -- they proved to be my most difficult foe by far, but like all others before, I came out victorious. 

"Why?" I forced myself to ask, swallowing down emotion. None of this made sense. If it wasn't because she thought I accepted my place in the royal family, then what changed? Had she always felt this way and I just never noticed? She had waved at me when I returned from my first mission but there was a pretty big jump from waving goodbye to flat out doting on me in ways I didn't think my species was capable of. 

Queen Teach shrugged carelessly, "dunno. I guess I'm looking at the world a bit differently now that I have a brat growing inside of me. Which freaking sucks, by the way. I can't spar because the brat can't take a punch yet, and what's the point in the first place if the spar isn't going all out?" 

I blinked at that, glancing down at her enlarged stomach. I couldn't stop myself from asking. "Why are you pregnant? Why not just use a gestation tank?" I thought the practice of hearing children naturally was gone. Like she said, bearing children naturally meant for nine months, a Saiyan woman couldn't fight. For a Saiyan, those nine months might as well be an eternity. 

“Ehh, we were in the middle of wrecking a planet when I found out that I was having another kid, and I couldn’t be bothered to go through the procedure to get the brat out of me. Then I forgot about it for a couple of weeks, and by that time it was way too late to put it inside a gestation tank.” Queen Teach explained and, I guess that made sense, in a way. Well, it made a lot more sense than her deciding to swear off gestation tanks -- her just forgetting that she was pregnant sounded a lot more...Saiyan. 

“How was it back on Planet Vegeta? I heard that there were a lot more saiyans living there now,” I asked, trying to picture what Planet Vegeta would look like with a population of over three thousand. Lord Frieza said that there were millions of us now, so as right now about ninety-nine percent of the saiyan race was now children. Huh. That was a little weird to think about-

“No clue, I haven’t been back since a couple of days after you left,” Queen Teach answered with a shrug. 

“Oh. Did King Vegeta come here?” I asked, recalling the last time I saw him. How he impassively looked down at me from his throne, as if I was something that he had scraped off his boot. I don’t know how well he was going to take my rejection of joining the royal family, even if I was going to join it in a few years. Or sooner, depending on what kind of fights I get in. 

However, Queen Teach threw her head back and let out a bark of laughter. “HA! As if that lazy bum could be bothered to leave his throne,” she scoffed with a shake of her head. “Your deadbeat father hasn’t left Planet Vegeta once since this war started -- he’s calling it protecting our home, but who cares if Planet Vegeta gets conquered? We’ll just take it back eventually! He needs to get off his ass and start doing something other than getting fat!” 

Uhhhh...wait. If Queen Teach hadn’t been to Planet Vegeta in about four years, and King Vegeta hadn’t left in four years...then...did that mean…

“I...have a half-sibling?” I questioned cautiously, feeling like I just uncanned a whole boatload of worms. Queen Teach confirmed my suspicions with a careless nod, confirming that she...cheated on King Vegeta? Did she? I don’t know. Saiyans didn’t really have anything like marriage or anything like that so...you know what? I don’t want to think about that, so I’m not going to. 

“You will soon enough. Just did the scan -- she already has a power level of thirty! Heh, at three months, she could have taken you on when you got out of the tank,” she teased. I huffed at that, shoving my question about who her father was away. If it was really important, I would find out eventually. 

“It’s a girl?” I asked, trying to picture what my little sister would look like. Since I had absolutely no idea who the father was, and to be blunt, I really didn’t want to know at all, I imagined that she would look a lot like Queen Teach. 

“Hm. Don’t know what I’m going to name her yet, but I’m thinking...Sallot? Maybe Kail? Or maybe just Tea.” Queen Teach mused before giving another shrug. “I have some time to figure it out. But, enough about that. Why don’t you tell me what is bothering you, my little Super Saiyan?”

I fell silent at the sudden change of topic and my discomfort must have shown because Queen Teach simply reached back and rustled my hair again. I wanted to tell her, but after four years, I learned to not talk about my problems. For one, a lot of mine were unnatural for a Saiyan, and secondly, I doubt that anyone on my team would care that much. But, if Queen Teach was asking…?

“I don’t know how to make my team respect me. I’m team leader and the strongest, but I’m still four years old,” I explained with a frown. “Tora’s been the vice-captain for years, and the rest of the team have fought with him a lot longer than they have with me.”

Queen Teach made an understanding noise, “Well, sounds easy enough!” She said after a quick moment of thought, “all you have to do is make them listen to you. Prove you’re the strongest, so even if they don’t want to listen to you, they won’t have a choice but to.” She explained, and all of a sudden, how she handled the admiral on the deck made a whole lot of sense. 

“If they step out of line, break some bones. If they don’t do what you say, when you say it, give them reasons to not disobey.” She continued, giving another careless shrug. I thought about that for a moment, picturing myself threatening the team into submission. It could work for a normal team, but I was less sure with Bardock's- my team. And, I didn't want to rule through fear with them. I wanted what Bardock had -- I wanted them to follow me out of respect and trust. 

I didn’t want anything to change between us except that I was in charge now. I liked what I had with my team.

Still...maybe… “Do you know if my team has finished learning how to control their oozaru form?” I asked, a plan forming in my mind. Queen Teach wasn’t wholly wrong about how to make my team listen to me. She was taking it to an extreme, but the core idea was solid. I would make them listen to me the same way that I always listened to Bardock -- because he clearly knew what he was talking about. 

“No, I don’t think so. Veg’s ship is too small for that kind of training, and I heard him and your team were too busy having a pissing contest todo any training.

Then that was perfect. “Could we borrow a hanger bay so I can help them master it? And could you help me make sure we don’t accidentally blow up the ship?” I asked after a quick moment of thought. I was confident I could do it alone, but if I was wrong then we all died. It was too big of a risk. 

“I can’t because of the brat in my stomach, but I’ll send Matillo and Parslee to a hangar to help hold them down.” Queen Teach agreed easily enough before she tapped her scouter, “Oi, admiral. Clear out a hanger for my son...he’s teaching his team how to control their oozaru- oh, would you quit your yappin’ before I make you quit?!” She snapped at the panicking admiral. 

I quickly tuned in to the same frequency, wincing to hear the admiral screeching in my ear. Which was fair, I guess. Oozarus were known city killers, so having one them on the ship, going out of control...well, his panic was more than fair. “We’ll have three others making sure that they don’t wreck anything, and we’ll only do one at a time,” I quickly soothed, making the admiral pause. “I won’t let anything happen to your ship.”

“...hanger three should suffice for your needs…” the admiral offered after a long minute of silence. With that, he ended the communication. Queen Teach looked back at me, a wide smile on her face. 

“See? Just be like that and your team will listen to you in no time!” She encouraged, getting a matching grin out of me. 

Here’s hoping. 

…

Hanger three was absolutely massive. It was so big that it really drove home just how big this ship was -- the hanger was well over two hundred feet high, and somewhere around five hundred feet wide, making it nearly perfect for what I had planned. Even better, it was mostly empty, the fighter planes having long since been destroyed in battle. It made the two figures standing at the center of the room stand out that much more. 

Matillo. The possibly ancient Saiyan that was well out of his prime, but he still maintained a power level of 6800. He stood a head taller than the saiyan next to him, his black eyes meeting mine as soon as I stepped through the door. He bowed his head, his expression unchanging, and I found myself returning the gesture. 

Back in the tank, everything that was downloaded into my brain was practical in nature. Languages, how to read and write and so on. However, there wasn’t much in the way of history simply because...what good was history? Outside of hyping up legends like King Vegeta the First, and other saiyans that made their mark on history, the actual history of our people was largely forgotten. Simply because no one cared enough to record it. 

However, if Matillo was the same Matillo that I thought he was...then he could have been there when King Vegeta the First defeated the truffles. It was awesome to think about. 

Standing next to him was Parslee. A handsome saiyan with shaggy black hair, most of his body hidden by a long white cloak. Though, I did see that he left his tail free to wrap around his waist, so he was using an older model of armor. Before my team and I joined the mid-class, he was the newest addition with a power level of 8000. 

“My prince,” Matillo greeted, bowing to me as I approached, his voice gruff but warm. I was a little surprised by that -- he looked the part of a grizzled veteran. Parslee simply nodded at me, his arms crossed. 

“Hello Matillo, Parslee,” I greeted in return, trying to project the quiet confidence that Bardock carried into any situation. “Did Queen Teach tell you why you’re here?” 

“She did,” Matillo confirmed. “Are your squadmates on their way, my prince?” He asked with a small frown, likely because they were late. I simply gave a nod, not wanting to throw anyone under the bus, and hoping that they had an actual reason to be late other than some petty crap to make me look bad. I didn’t think they would, but I also didn’t think I would ever be leading a team either. 

“They are…” I trailed off, the three of us falling into silence with nothing else to talk about. The fact that there was silence really stood out to me -- on my team, whenever there were two members together, then there was a conversation rolling. About anything. From food to missions, to making fun of each other for one reason or another. I glanced up at Matillo, and he caught the glance, raising an eyebrow at me. 

Right. I doubt he would volunteer the information out of the blue. “Are you the same Matillo that fought with King Vegeta the First?” I asked with the subtly of a brick, an amused expression appearing on Matillo’s face at my question. Parslee’s eyebrows shot up, caught off guard by the question before they nearly flew off his face when Matillo gave a small, but firm nod. 

“I am,” he confirmed, nearly making my jaw drop. I could barely believe it. That meant he was at least, bare minimum, three hundred years old. Then he let out a small huff through his nose, sounding thoroughly amused. “You’re the first to ask me that, my prince. Everyone usually assumes that I’m simply named after myself. Is there something you wish to know about your ancestor?”

Huh. I was so wrapped up in the idea that he might be three hundred years old and all that he had seen over those years, I hadn’t put any thought into what I would actually like to ask him about. Matillo seemed to mistake my hesitation for something else because he glanced over at Parslee, “go fetch the princes team.” 

“Huh?” Parslee was broken out of his shock by the order. He blinked once, then gave a shrug. “Fine then. I’ll return soon, Prince Tarble.” He said, giving me a short bow. A denial of being a prince was heavy on my tongue, and it must have shown because Matillo spoke as soon as Parslee left the hanger. 

“It is known that you refused your place in the royal family, for now, but it is clear that it won’t be long until you enter the elite-class. Even if you only pass that barrier by going through your first growth spurt, but I doubt it will take you that long,” Matillo spoke and it still caught me off guard by the sheer certainty in his tone. Much like Vegeta and Queen Teach, he spoke like my ascension to the elite-class was a forgone conclusion, like it was a fact. 

For years, it was nothing but doubt and scoffs from those that thought I could hear them. Now my ascension to the elite-class was inevitable. 

“What was your question, my prince?” Matillo asked, his voice sounding grandfatherly, for a lack of a better word.

“I didn’t really have a specific one,” I admitted after a moment. “I was just interested in the kind of stuff that my lessons didn’t cover in the tank. And you were there, so…” I trailed off, wary of rejection. Saiyan warriors weren’t meant to have interests outside of fighting, and perhaps fucking, but I guess it was a holdover from my last life. 

To my surprise, Matillo actually looked pleased. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, making me realize that the lines around his mouth were from smiling for several lifetimes. “I see. I suppose that is to be expected. Much...has been forgotten over the centuries because it wasn’t important enough to be included in the basic lessons.” He mused, stroking a stark white beard that clung to his jaw. 

“Like what?” I asked, my interest in the topic growing. It was one thing to learn about history from a book or having the information downloaded directly into your brain, but it was another thing entirely to speak with someone that was actually there. 

“Hm. Our people remember the deeds of our ancestors, but they have forgotten the people that performed those deeds,” Matillo spoke after a moment of thought. “King Vegeta the First, he is remembered for conquering the truffles despite their technological and numerical superiority, but it has been forgotten what he had to do to unite the saiyan tribes.”

I perked up at that, prompting Matillo to continue. “After we landed on planet Planet, we claimed the outlands, the places that the truffles didn’t want or didn’t use while the lived in their cities. We were separated and weak, unused to the heavy gravity -- for generations, we fought amongst each other in small tribes.” Then he let out a huff of amused laughter. 

“King Vegeta the First came to my tribe as an infiltration baby,” he informed, and that sure wasn’t included in my lessons. 

“King Vegeta was an infiltration baby?” I blurted, not believing that for a second. Was he just screwing with me? And how would that even work in the first place-

“He was. We didn’t always send out our young into space to conquer planets to earn the right to call themselves warriors. That tradition started long before I was born, and it has changed greatly over time, but in essence, it remains the same,” Matillo explained, his tone taking on a wistful edge. “We would send our young -- the weak, sickly, or deformed, to be raised by other tribes. They would learn their techniques, learn their ways to survive, and then one day, when the time was right, when they proved they were strong enough, they could return to the tribe.”

“But, why would another tribe take in a baby that they knew was weak?” I asked, trying to picture it in my head. To be blunt, if a saiyan stumbled across a weak newborn infant, I could only imagine that would end with a contest of who could kick the baby the furthest. 

Matillo’s smile grew, “I believe you have a clue as to why.” He pointed out, and I realized he was right.

“...does giving birth normally really change a person that much?” I asked with a small frown. Queen Teach did have that playful air about her when she wasn’t dismissing my death as any of her concern, but now it was just...dialed up to fifteen. 

“No, I wouldn’t say that, my prince. It simply makes them look at things a bit differently,” Matillo argued with a small shake of his head. “But, before the gestation tanks, it was the women that took in whatever child they found. They raised the child like it was their own...it wasn’t uncommon for tribes to join together because two mothers couldn’t bear to be separated from the child.”

Matillo let out another huff of laughter, laughing at a memory only he could recall now. “King Vegeta the First was one of those cases. I helped raise the boy...and...even back when he was forced to crawl because he couldn’t stand underneath the gravity of Planet Plant, there was something special about him.” Matillo looked down at me with an odd expression, like he was looking through me rather than at me. “He always looked at any situation and found an angle that no one had ever noticed. People followed him even though he wasn’t the strongest, but because obeying him meant victory. No matter the odds, Vegeta the First won.”

I stood a little straighter underneath his gaze, making Matillo nod approvingly. “He united the tribes that way. With the belief that following him meant victory. And he proved that it did.” He recalled fondly -- looking at him now, he looked like a grandpa far more than a grizzled veteran.

I nodded, mulling over that for a long second. King Vegeta the First, my ancestor, was an infiltration baby. That was one pretty big detail to leave out of the history books, but I saw why it was. That fact would have tarnished his legacy, so it was omitted and forgotten by everyone except for the one man that watched it all happen. Which just begged the question of what else was forgotten?

“But...how would you know if the infiltration baby belonged to your tribe or not?” I questioned, feeling an eagerness to learn that was only matched by my eagerness for a good fight. More questions came to mind about our forgotten history -- how long was it between crashing on planet Plant and taking it over? How did the class-system form? What was it like back when the saiyans were just a bunch of tribes? What was life like back then? For every second, I thought of a dozen questions and, judging by the small, almost gentle smile on Matillo’s face, he would answer them all. 

“Because of your hair,” he answered, pointing to my hair. “Hairstyles run in the family, and it’s pretty easy to recognize a kid that belonged to your tribe by the hairstyle alone. They don’t change from birth to death, unless you’re one of the unlucky ones that end up going bald, like me.” He explained, rubbing his smooth scalp, though his touch lingered on the X shaped scar. 

Huh. That...made a lot of sense, now that I thought about it. 

Unfortunately, the hanger doors slid open before I could pester Matillo with more questions. My team followed Parslee, who bowed before stood to my right while Matillo stood on my left. 

Right. Time to be a leader. 

“Since we have two weeks until we reach Rench, we should make the most of it. Bardock said that you made a lot of progress on D’xe to control your oozaru forms, so we should make sure you master it before we get there. I have a feeling that we’ll need it,” I explained, puffing out my chest and trying to ignore how I was three or four inches away from being eye level with most of my team’s knees. I could not wait until my first growth spurt. 

Tora nodded, “yeah, that sounds good to me.” He voiced his opinion, “who’s up first?” He started, turning his question to the rest of the team.

“Shugesh,” I volunteered the rounder saiyan, turning my team’s gaze back on me. “You’re up,” I decided since he was currently one of the weakest of the team, so he should be the easiest to subdue in a test run. 

Tora opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by Shugesh shrugging carelessly as he strode forward. “Sure thing,” he agreed, walking towards the center of the hangar bay. 

“Parslee and I can handle this, for now, my prince,” Matillo stated, turning to follow Shugesh, giving me time to speak with my team. Once they were far enough away, Matillo tossed up a Power Ball and all three of them began to transform. They grew into their oozaru forms, and as soon as they were standing at their full height, Shugesh threw himself at Matillo and Parslee mindlessly. 

The ship shook from the force of their blows, wind buffeting my face as Shugesh was slammed into the ground by Matillo while Parslee clamped his hands over Shugesh’s maw to keep him from firing off a ki breath attack. I watched them in silence, wanting to make absolutely sure that we weren’t about to accidentally destroy the ship, but it seemed like the two of them had the situation well in hand. 

“Tarble,” Tora spoke up, getting my attention. When I turned around, I saw that he, Fasha and Borgos wore unusually serious expressions. Well, the other two did. Borgos always looked serious, even as he munched on a piece of jerky. “We need to talk.”

Ah. So that’s how it is?

“Yeah,” I agreed with a nod of my head. “We do.” It was better that we decide who was in charge now rather than risking a mishap in the middle of battle-

My train of thought was lost when Tora and the rest of the team took off their scouters, prompting me to slowly do the same. Whatever they had to say, they didn’t want to risk anyone else overhearing. It was Fasha that spoke first after a tense beat of silence since Tora was too busy frowning at me. 

“Bardock told us that you managed to tap into the power of the oozaru without transforming. Called it a Wrath State,” she spoke, and I had to fight off a frown. What was with Bardock naming my techniques? “Have you told anyone about it yet?” She asked this time I didn’t bother fighting off my frown as I shook my head. 

“It hasn’t come up,” I answered with a small shrug. First Frieza blows up a planet, and then Queen Teach started to be all...motherly towards me. Everyone was so caught up on the fact that I had killed a Green Lantern that no one bothered to ask how I managed it. 

“We should keep that secret close to our chest,” Tora spoke up while Borgos simply nodded in agreement. I tilted my head at that, puzzled why we should keep it a secret. Wasn’t it a good thing? Now the mid and elite-classes could use their techniques with an x10 multiplier. “Frieza hates our species, and he’s known for eradicating ones that he doesn’t like. We’re only still around because were more useful than trouble. If he hears about the Wrath State, it could be enough for him to decide that he’s better off without the saiyans and kill us off before we become a threat.”

A memory from before the tank appeared -- Bardock making a last stand against a death ball created by Lord Frieza, only to fail and Planet Vegeta suffered the same fate as Sereall and D’xe. Even without that memory, it was hardly a secret that Lord Frieza didn’t care much for saiyans, but, at the same time…

“But Lord Frieza took off our population cap, and we’re in the middle of a war. I don’t think he would do that,” I argued with a shake of my head, frowning at Tora when he opened his mouth to press the issue. “And you weren’t there when Lord Frieza destroyed Sereall. It was effortless. We could be a threat to him? You have no idea how absurd that idea is,” I refuted firmly.

With the Wrath State, I was around 85,000 in terms of power level. Lord Frieza was so powerful that scouter technology wasn’t advanced enough to even begin to measure his strength. Us? Be a threat to him? The idea of it was ridiculous. 

Tora and Fasha shared a glance before the latter gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe blowing up the saiyan race might be a bit much, but us? The mid and elite-class? He’d take us out in a heartbeat.” And deny himself valuable assets during a war? Not to mention, he specifically wanted me to rack up achievements during this war. 

“No, there’s no point in keeping it a secret. And how would we? Someone would figure it out eventually when we have a power level ten times our base and we aren’t transformed,” I argued against the idea. Tora winced at that, likely not thinking about the logistics of keeping such a secret. 

Then he shrugged, “our team does our best work when we’re behind enemy lines. If you just teach it to us, then no one would find out about the Wrath State.” He pointed out but I was already shaking my head again as I wore a deep frown. Why did they want it to be a secret so badly? Didn’t they see how good this could be for the war effort?

“Except we’re not behind enemy lines, and the Wrath State isn’t something that you can master that easily.” I pointed out, recalling the sheer agony I felt utilizing the form. My organs had been shish kabobed, and the pain from that was nothing compared to the Wrath State. “I’m not sure if it can be mastered at all.”

Fasha frowned at me, “what do you mean by that?”

I paused, glancing over at Shugesh and the others as he struggled to regain control over himself. How could I put it into words? 

“The Wrath State...its about finding a balance,” I started after a long minute of silence. “Between the rage and the pain. If you let the rage take hold, then it will drive you mad with it. The pain...if you let the pain overwhelm you, it’ll drive you insane. And it’s so easy to let yourself go mad with the rage because absolutely anything is better than the pure agony of the Wrath State.”

I saw by their expressions that they weren’t convinced. So, slowly, I walked up to Tora. There was some merit in what Queen Teach said, despite my distaste of leading through fear. Tora looked down at me warily, then alarmed as I cocked back a fist. Before he could react, I punched him in the thigh hard enough that his tibia snapped like a twig. 

“Gah!” He shouted, collapsing as he glared at me, clutching his broken leg. He grit his teeth, obviously in pain, but that was the point. 

“What did you do that for?!” Fasha snapped at me, falling silent when I turned my attention to her. 

“To prove a point. If something like breaking a bone causes too much pain for you, then you aren’t ready to learn the Wrath State in the first place,” I told them as I stared Tora down. This wasn’t what I wanted, but I could hardly make them believe me any other way. He pressed his lips together into a thin line, pointedly not responding, which got a sigh out of me. “I’ll teach you when you’re ready for it. And I won’t keep it some secret. We have a war to win.”

Fasha shook her head, “Tarble, you can’t-”

“Why is it so important to you that I keep it a secret?” I interrupted, their excuses ringing hollow. Especially now when Fasha fell silent, glancing over at Tora’s fallen form.

Neither of them answered and I felt a gulf appear between us in the span of a second. 

Because they were keeping a secret from me that they didn’t trust me with. 

And I was starting to not trust them.