Choice to be Different

Chapter 1:If Wishes were Horses

Goten stared at the sky listlessly. Worriedly Trunks watched his best friend. "What's wrong Chibi? Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Hn-huh," Goten signed and shook his head.

"Okay, now I'm really worried," Trunks stated.

"I was just wonderin' what my daddy was like," Goten said. "Everybody at your mom's party kept sayin' I'm just like him and, well, I was just wonderin' if I really was."

Trunks thought about that for a few moments. "I know where Mom hides the Dragon Ball radar. We could wish him back," the lavender haired boy suggested.

Goten sighed again. "He doesn't want to be wished back. I heard Mommy and Big Brother talking one night after I was s'posed to be asleep."

Trunks frowned darkly at that. "Well dads aren't that great anyway. All mine ever wants to do is train and most of the time he won't even turn the gravity down enough for me to train with him. You've got Gohan. He's better anyway, he plays with you sometimes."

"It must be a grown-up thing," Goten said. "Big Brother doesn't like playing with me as much anymore. Not since he started getting ready to go to High School. He's always too busy studyin' for his, his 'placement exams'. It's too bad we couldn't have our dads here as kids, I bet they'd like to do stuff with us then."

Trunks stared at the other demi-Saiyan in amazement. "Goten you're brilliant!" he declared.

"What? I am? Why?" Goten asked as he scratched the back of his head in puzzlement.

"On very rare occasions," Trunks qualified. "We'll get the Dragon Balls and wish for kid versions of our dads to play with."

"Will that work?" Goten asked, his eyes huge.

Trunks shrugged. "If a teenaged version of me can come back to the fight I don't see why kid-versions of our dads couldn't come forward to play. Let's do it!"
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A small boy with wild, dark hair and a tail watched intently as the last piece of the small model of the Dragon Shenlong was glued back together. Then the elderly Kami restored the dragon to life. And with the dragon the Dragon Balls were restored. "Normally, they would be ordinary rocks for the next year, but this time I'll make an exception and grant your wish immediately."

"Really!?" the boy exclaimed. "Can I go watch everybody come back to life too?!"

"I thought you promised to train here..." Kami reminded the boy.

"Oh, yeah."

"You must show three year's patience, you will be able to see your companions at the next Tenka'ichi Budokai Tournament."

The boy looked surprised. "Tenka'ichi Budokai?! You even know about that?!"

"Someone else will come to that tournament - Piccolo - Wanting your life."

"Piccolo!?" The boy exclaimed then disappeared.

Kami and his assistant Mr. Popo blinked at the spot where the boy had been.
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The cruelly handsome emerald skinned mercenary glared down at the flame-haired boy crouched defensively in front of him. The boy's tail was wrapped closely around his waist and his eyes glittered with outrage.

"I am Prince Vegeta of the Saiyans!" the boy snarled furiously as he launched himself at the larger warrior. "You will show me respect!"

"Don't you get it you little brat? You're the Prince of a dead race! The future King of a handful of stardust. In other words you are nothing special." Zarbon said coldly as he knocked the boy to the floor and pinned him there by planting his foot firmly on the boy's chest. "You were a Prince; you were the son of Frieza's ally. Now you're just another soldier in his army. You have no world to go home to. You have no army behind you. You have no position and no rights in this organization beyond those you can earn with your fists. Now I admit you're good enough to survive, even without that idiot of a bodyguard's help and that's not bad for a little brat. But I am Lord Frieza's right-hand man. I am your better and you will acknowledge me as such or you'll be spending the next two weeks in a regeneration tank, do you understand me you stupid little monkey?"