In November, 2017, I decided to write a one-shot collection about the Starchasers, a group of intergalactic bounty hunters who will be major characters in Dragon Ball: Heart of the Dragon. As I try to do one-shot collections of varying lengths (never repeating the same number), and the five one-shot collection was still open, I was presented with a convenient opportunity to explore these characters. Each story was meant to be an origin story, in some form or another, explaining why these characters are in Universe 7, how they became powerful enough to be on Ledas' level (as of Age 778), and all that jazz.
I resolved to start and finish this collection in November, for five stories was not too much to write, even while I was in school, in a period of thirty days. At the time, the pages for Okinaro, Linessi, and Ledas existed. All three of those characters had been featured in my previous one-shot collection, Ikigai, so I was comfortable with all of them. I knew that Linessi's origin story would probably be fairly complex, given the cliff-hanger I had written in Mountain Bird. Vizzer had also appeared in The Great Sushi-Eating Contest, so I had a feel for his character, but perhaps not his origin story. The fifth character, who was originally Rianne The Twili (but before that, I had used Naemi in The Monster and the Maiden), was a character who I felt uncomfortable writing for.
With all of that taken into account, I knew the following: Okinaro and Ledas' stories would be fairly easy to write, as they were established characters of mine. Linessi would be fairly comfortable to write for, but her story was going to be complex. Rianne and Vizzer's stories were not ones that I knew much about yet. I knew I would have to spend much of the month thinking about those two and what I wanted to do with them. I did have all of the names of the stories (With the Rianne story being named Too Spooky originally, instead of The Scouring of Paradise), so I had vague notions for what I wanted to do with everyone. Expanding those vague notions into stories was another matter entirely, though.
Ledas' story would be easy. I kind of wanted to save it until the end so that I could end it on an easy note. However, that didn't end up being the case. With Okinaro, I had come up with the idea fairly early in the formation of this collection that I wanted him to save Mrov from being destroyed by Beerus, which would earn him his second tail (I didn't have an idea for how he got his third tail back, after being banished from his homeworld, but that story was eventually released in 2020 as Trickster is Meaningless). Mrov was the home of an ancient civilization, and it felt somewhat odd to me that Beerus had never taken out any of their planets even though he routinely destroyed worlds. So that one came together fairly quickly.
Okinaro had been developed a lot for What Role Will You Play?, a non-canon roleplay that I entered with him earlier in 2017. As such, I had come up with his backstory already. Like Ledas' story, Okinaro's story is not necessarily his origin story, but a very important moment in his life. Because his story wasn't meant to be a retelling of what I had written on his character page, I was freed up a bit and this story was able to be somewhat lighter in tone and content than Linessi's, Vizzer's, or Naemi's. That is probably the reason why I wrote it first.
With that said, I don't really remember any of the content of this story other than the fact that Okinaro convinces Beerus to not blow up Mrov somehow and earns his third tail for it. Also, Hyper Zergling wrote a significant portion of the final section of this story. This marks the only time that Hyper Zergling has co-written a one-shot with me.
Anyways, I began writing this story on November 4, 2020. I began late at night, getting six paragraphs in by about 1:30 in the morning of November 5th. Then, I went to bed. The next evening, I wrote up to the final paragraph of the second scene. On November 6th, I finished the second scene, wrote the third scene, wrote the fourth scene, and wrote the first version of the fifth scene (which HZ would later severely edit). Then, I edited the entire story and awaited for HZ's input.
HZ came by just after I had finished my editing. He only participated in the final section. He got rid of a lot of my prose and changed quite a bit. He also deleted the final two paragraphs. I ended up rewriting those, with slightly different content and wording, as I was posting the story to this wiki (those paragraphs are not on the google document). The story was posted 7 minutes after HZ's last edit, so rewriting those paragraphs must have only taken me 4-5 minutes. To this day, I do not know if HZ is aware of those two paragraphs being re-written and re-added in.
I re-read this story in September of 2019, but here in September of 2020 I am struggling to remember pretty much anything that happened in it. For that reason, there is nothing more for me to say. It is time to dive in.
Sometime in Age 433…
There once was a space alien who looked quite a bit like a space fox, but he walked like a cunt and he had a tail that was furry and grey. He was a very handsome furry damn.
The planet he was on was pretty fucking hype too. It had some cunty floating trees that looked more like when ur dildos melt after you put them in the microwave for just a tad over two minutes. Because there wasn’t enough time to name this planet Telex, it had been named Scrote by its first leader, the Girth-King Tesutè, whose long and prosperous reign had ended abruptly after his majesty himself had endured a forty-three hour libidinous mauling by a wild pack of family space fowl, and that’s all anyone ever said about that.
Scrote’s name was lost to time, and undoubtedly would be unknown to this rather tall and rather lanky and rather fox-faced fox man who possessed but a single tangible tail. He looked quite sterile with the single tail, and it was an unsightly sight, looking upon him wearing only basic ascetic robes in the style of the mystical-bullshit-believing worshipers of the Wiyu religion, a staple disillusionment of Inari culture, the species this brilliant and remarkably grotesque space fox does allegedly hail from.
It is at this point the fox man’s name which is Okinaro is introduced in a seamless and clever way a little later into the text than it needed to be. He had come to this remote and very ancient planet precisely because it housed no native population of sentient beings. Such planets were quite excellent and fetched loads more on the open market than planets plagued by the thriving infection of near-intelligence. Okinaro himself, being a wild and untamed ejaculatory rascal, sometimes known as Yako-Okinaro for his misdeeds, had few notions of buying and selling planets. He owned almost no possessions, and owning a planet was something he certainly never saw himself doing.
As Okinaro hovered above a sky-flowing geiser of liquid methane, he thought of how much he loved females of his species and how much he just simply wanted to make more Inari with them, and how great that would be, and nothing else mattered. Such thoughts came easy to Wiyu acolyte who had been exiled from his homeworld many a moon ago.
Young though he was, Okinaro had little patience for space bullshit.
“You must understand, you must, you must!” pouted the lecherous-looking man with mud-painted purple robes, regal to be sure, and a crown of pale gold. He was rather portly, of generous horizontal proportion, and his chins were as numerous as the arcing swirls of his overabundant mustache curls. The man was a king, veritably, and as the sly space fox knew, kings were no good rotten heathen filth that deserved to be thrown in a kettle of boiling piss.
“You there I say–you there…!” muttered the ruinous hulk of a man, his uneven hunchback shoulders becoming clear as he came trodding up the game path towards the hill Okinaro had been meditating on. “You there furry! Furry beast! Furry man, are you a furry?!” he asked Okinaro with venom.
“Just so.” Such a sharp reply was dubious, but the Inari was in no mood. For you see, in these days, randomly running up to someone and shouting at them in an annoying and self-aggrandizing manner led almost always to skirmishes, even amongst as passive and peace-loving a Wiyu monk as Okinaro, the Unshriven. He was obligated, if not compelled, to be utterly offended to the point of wanting to kill anyone who hurt his feelings, and such was the logical conclusion of any well-meaning intelligent hominid.
“I have crashed my space mobile,” his majesty enunciated gravely, grunting into his many chins, bless his ruby red nips, “and I require your assistance, Master Furry. Post haste, furry, with me!”
“Who’s there?” the Inari yawned, opening one lazy eye, the brightest green flecked with gold.
“Hello?! Who am I…?! I said, who am I? Why, who are you, son? You’re a furry, a damn furry beast, a rodent, little beady-eye-lookin’ vermin from that there forest yonder, crawlin’ with parasites, infested with them up to and includin’ a tapeworm clingin’ to yer piss bladder young fella. Easy now furry mongrel feral animal needin a dirtnap asap, and I do declare, what a hideous sight that thing was, what a member, fiery red–oh surely, on my mother’s pristine porcelain anklets, on my grand uncle’s well-trimmed pubes–and knotted like a beast of the forest, oh heavens me. You’re a foul vermin, pollutin these parts with yer heathen loins, and you’ll burn to a crisp once we’re done repairin’ my ship… oh, laddie, don’t think that’ll get you off free of charge, huehuehue. You’re gonna be dead either way.”
“I really like this planet’s muhawi-koun spice tentacle kabobs. They are sumptuous.”
“Oh, boy, the he–”
Okinaro punched him one time in the chins, and his fist went through all of the king, his majesty’s, chins. And it was really gross and smelled quite a bit of how it smells like when you punch your way through some fat guy’s several chins and proceed to splatter yourself in his blood and guts and tissue and organ matter and that is very raw and very unpleasant and I don’t recommend many of you try this, but at least some of you should since you can take it and you already know who you are so I need say nothing else.
when evening came streaked in a blood-cloven sky, river rushing through fur
In the town of Quhm, Scrote, there lived precisely one hundred twenty-three bipeds. Being the only town of Scrote, Quhm was a busy place. The primary occupation of the townspeople was whoredom, with sixty-seven people taking up that profession nightly. Another thirty-eight were gamblers, and hell, even the whores were gamblers, and the gamblers whores, and everyone liked to fuck, get fucked, go again, and also engage in copulation afterwards with some reasonable-looking aliens.
There were only a few bars and shops aside from the resident quarters in Quhm. The rent was cheap, but so were the prospects. Anyone who didn’t own a ship or have a sure way out was already fucked.
Okinaro, the Unshriven had come to Quhm three days prior. This place was rotten except for its food, and that was the only reason he had stayed. As the outpost served mostly as a port for passing space pirates and smugglers, even the locals were mildly unsavory, the kind Okinaro wished would all join hands and teleport into a supernova, but it was unreasonable to assume all of them could see the light.
He had once had a home with other fox-looking people, many of whom he found sexually appealing, but now Okinaro was merely talking to a sand-cloaked little weasel named Manko, and he wasn’t feeling it man, like this little bitch was cheating him good in their game of space gambling, and Okinaro knew there was no way he could lose this bad for real. Everything was pretend bullshit.
“You’re a damn liar, goodbye,” Okinaro told Manko before smashing him into a wall. Okinaro quickly fled before anyone could see that he killed a man, a real man, a man’s man, in broad daylight, in a broad’s eyesight, so he ran outside and was immediately accosted by a hooded pickpocket.
“Is there life after death? Whoosh, I am the night!” the pickpocket whispered in his ear as the blur of a blade being unsheathed flashed before Okinaro’s eyes.
“It’s always a good idea to attempt to steal from a man who has no money.” Okinaro twisted, dropped to the ground, spun on his heels, and kicked the man so hard that his legs ripped off and the rest of him went flying a little bit into the grey-orange air, dust-ridden and swarming with bugs, before landing in a ditch on the side of the road. He probably screamed and it probably took him quite a while to die, and you should think about that a lot and perhaps get off to it if you can, but that’s not to say that the pickpocket wasn’t a woman.
Okinaro was feeling a bit hungry at this time so he walked into town. He thought about his homeworld and all the very erotic and very sexually alluring bitch baby mama Inari who lived there to this very day. He very much desired to procreate with them (that goes without saying).
It was precisely at this moment, however, that Okinaro’s several nostrils filled with the sweet and tangy aroma of muhawi kabobs. It was not yet dark, and his belly was rumbling.
The Unshriven had been banished from his homeworld of Inan roughly one hundred years ago, and still he thought of them. Let it go, he told himself over and over again, wondering when he finally would. Chihako was often on his mind, too. He missed her more than most.
A lazy wind was blowing through the outpost when Okinaro found Gekk’s food stand tucked away in that same little corner it always was. His stand was adorned with neon yellow and pink lights in a gawdy display. Gekk himself was an immoderate person of significant girth, and to top it all off, he was a filthy Sobren ape. Okinaro had no opinion of the Sobren, as this was the only one he had ever met, but everyone else in town seemed to despise him, and nobody ever came to buy his food. Somebody once told Okinaro that Gekk was nursing a seven-and-a-half kilogram Zhgeji Eel in his bladder. The man got by on almost nothing. Most of them did. Okinaro did. But he was not like most of them.
These were the best kabobs he had ever ingested in interstellar space, and he would not be deprived of them tonight of all nights.
He paid Gekk without daring to speak to the man, as Okinaro was also deathly shy in front of aliens sometimes, such as this time. Space woolongs were exchanged, and the grey-furred Inari held a kabob in each hand. Warmth radiated down from the roasted and fruit-adorned tentacles, and he was reminded of her.
Let it go, he told himself. What’s done is done. One cannot changing the past. He hadn’t remembered the last thing she’d said to him as they’d done it, drunk on Nyarin space gin stolen from Master Nozari himself. He remembered neither her voice nor her eyes, only the sound of footsteps–growing urgent - and a bowl crashing to the floor, and the sight of the bubbling gin rushing between the Ijo Temple’s ancient stone tiles, which even then had stirred in Okinaro a great, cannibalistic feeling of emptiness.
He rounded the corner so that Gekk couldn’t watch him feasting upon the flesh of another being. Standing in the middle of the road, past a pallet of crates being unloaded by rusting lifter bots, were two men whom Okinaro’s eye was drawn to not only for their uniqueness of appearance (he had, most assuredly, never seen these two before), but for the unfathomable depths of power each of them possessed.
The shorter, skinnier one was hairless and purple, with tall ears, wearing an outfit with strange patterns on it. His tail was flicking back and forth in annoyance, though his hands were clasped behind his back in supreme elegance. Okinaro froze. His form is impeccable. There’s no opening to attack. He’s utterly aware of everything going on around him…
And the same could be said of his companion, a taller, more well-dressed humanoid with bright blue skin and tall white hair. He held a staff and had a high, flittery voice. “Hm, either way Lord Beerus, you will have to get on with it soon. You must get to work after this meal.”
“Alright Whis, whatever. I’ll destroy Mrov then. Afterwards I think I’ll sleep for, eh,” he yawned obnoxiously, “forty-five years.”
“As you wish, Lord Beerus.”
This was an excellent show, and they didn’t seem to mind him overhearing them (he was sure they knew he was listening in), so Okinaro took a voracious bite into the larger of two kabobs he was cradling.
Immediately thereafter, Okinaro spat the tentacle into the dust, retching hard. The two men, who had been talking in business-like tones, drew their attention to him, and they reached him before he noticed they had moved. Meanwhile, Okinaro’s tongue was burning. Not only had Gekk added a new spice since yesterday, but this tentacle was neither cooked all the way nor tasty in the slightest. It’s like rubber, Okinaro thought riotously, a blood-curdling rage rising into his ears until it was all of him.
“Oh my, that does smell quite good,” the blue man said, prodding in. “Would you mind telling me where you got that so that my companion and I may purchase several?”
“It’s raw!!” Okinaro snarled, looking up, tentacle fragments dripping from his maw like wet slabs of ice. “And he changed the sauce too… where’s the muwahi sauce?!” His voice rose and broke, and he was doing well to focus on this single emotion. “Where’s the muwahi sauce?!”
“Well, if you don’t mind,” Lord Beerus said, swooping in and grabbing the kabob in Okinaro’s other hand, “I’ll see if you’re right.” The purple man took a bite, and like Okinaro, his face contorted into a snarl. He quickly spat the half-chewed tentacle into the dirt. “Whis, the Inari was right. This is one of the worst kabob’s I’ve ever tasted!”
He threw it down the road, where it left a gash in the dirt on impact, and a fierce wind rose up, sending several of the lifter bots crashing sideways into buildings or dropping their crates-in-transport. “Now, now, Lord Beerus, don’t start getting a temper. We can go somewhere else for your supper.”
Let it go. “Hey–wait a minute. Are you two talking about destroying a planet?”
“So you overheard us,” the Whis man said vaguely. “It’s rude to eavesdrop on gods.”
“Gods?” Okinaro cocked his head, studying them. They were prime physical specimens, no doubt. Their tremendous power was beyond anything he had ever felt before. But there was something off about these two, something he had seen in the legendary nine-tailed Master Sharu-Kan’s form that was lacking before his eyes. Who would lie about such a thing, especially someone so strong? Is it not more likely that they are what they say they are? For some reason, a calm washed over the Unshriven. In all his years of exile, he had never felt so at peace as in the presence of these two.
“Careful now,” Lord Beerus said in a growl, “or I’ll destroy you too.”
“When you go about destroying planets, how do you make your choice?” Okinaro asked suddenly, before he had even registered what the man had said to him.
The purple god shrugged. “I have a hat that I pick the names of random planets out of.”
“A-are you serious?”
“Lord Beerus, it’s rude to deceive others. I thought you already knew that. Tell him the truth,” the blue man said sternly.
“I… just pick whichever planet’s on my mind.”
“Yeah.” Lord Beerus gave him a savage look in the evening light, and once again Okinaro believed he was about to die. What pushed him on, he did not know.
It was like with Chihako; his hands moved before his eyes, the words tumbled out of his snout, and it was as if he had no control over their contents and movements.
“Why destroy Mrov then? Do you know what that planet is–who lives there?”
Lord Beerus shrugged again. “The Mrovians, what of it?”
Okinaro had never visited Mrov, but he knew of the Mrovian Empire, just like anyone else in this region of space would. “They rule an entire interplanetary kingdom… you would be destroying a great civilization over nothing…”
“Civilizations come and go,” Whis replied sternly. “Why do you care so much?”
“Why not blow up this planet instead?” Okinaro replied haughtily. “Gekk’s tentacles aren’t as good as they used to be. I guess good cooks come and go, too. This place is rotten now.” He said it half in jest, half in furor over his ruined dinner.
“All because your favorite food is no longer being served?”
“Hmmm, what do you say, Lord Beerus?”
The man yawned again, slacking his jaw to the side. “Fine.”
His eyes flashed with purple vigor, energy coming so suddenly and so forcefully into being that Okinaro couldn’t react to it in time. He couldn’t sense this energy coming from the god, and for a moment he was confused. And then, the cracks in the street grew wider and the light overwhelmed them all.
The rejuvenation tank’s liquid was cold and watery, sloshing green before his vision. There was a man of a species Okinaro did not know with a long brown beak and old yellow eyes staring at him from beyond the tank’s glass window.
He was let out a moment later.
“Hello there,” the alien said in a raspy tone. “My name is Genshissa. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance… I have never seen anyone like you before! Please tell me your name and your species’ name, and all about your homeworld… if you can!” he beamed enthusiastically.
“How long have I been out?”
“We found you drifting through space four days ago–heh, I was surprised you could even survive in space! Haven’t seen many species like that before,” Genshissa laughed. “You’re pretty tough. I’m surprised at how much you could withstand and survive… the vacuum of space isn’t very forgiving, after all! We put you in the rejuvenation tank anyways, just to make sure. I’ve never seen a member of your species before, sir, so, I wasn’t sure if you were healthy or not! How are you feeling now?”
“Conscious.” Okinaro had opened only one big green eye, but now that the liquid had drained away, though it had soaked his summer coat, he stepped out into the crisp, artificial air. The room was small and cramped with three rejuvenation tanks stacked next to one another. There was a desk with tools and paperwork to the left, and above it, a window looked out over an arid, sun-baked desert. A few cages, tables, and several stacks of supplies dominated the other side of the room. “Where are we?”
“This is Planet Icer 05,” a young voice said, shooting forward from behind a crate just to Okinaro’s side. He was a small and blue creature, hairless, with a tail, and bluish skin. His armor was white and red, and his eyes were a bright blue. He had a long red cape trailing after his short figure as he walked. “Hello,” he said, bowing cordially. “My name is Icer.”
The doctor cleared his throat, indicating that Okinaro should bow. Instead, he said, “My name is Okinaro, the Unshriven. I am an Inari… male if you couldn’t tell. I was exiled from my homeworld, so that’s all I’m going to say about that.”
Genshissa’s face was flushed a deep purple. His beak was wrinkling up in excitement. “This is a most splendid find. Oh, Lord Icer, what do you think? Isn’t he a member of a quite remarkable new species? Now… can you tell me a bit about yourself, Mr. Okinaro?”
“Yeah,” Icer said, his boyish eyes lighting up with intrigue, “I bet you’re strong. You’re strong, aren’t you? Teach me everything you’ve learned!”
“There will be time for testing his power level later,” Genshissa said warmly. “For now, I’d more like to know, Mr. Okinaro, the Unshriven, do all members of your species have two tails?”
A flush spread over him, and he was kissing her again before she took that giant gulp of gin from the bowl. Master Nozari’s snarling visage came to him next–the man who had exiled Okinaro not only from the Ijo Temple, but from all of Inan. There was a bounty out for his death on the planet. He hadn’t been able to stay. Better that I was born a street urchin without parents to worry about disappointing, he reflected. But still, that haunting, snarling, hate-filled face of Master Nozari, where all the love had gone out, was preserved in his mind like a tumor.
Yako-Okinaro! Unshriven! Murderer! Their voices rose fiercely before his memories, chief amongst them Nozari with his low, rumbling disappointment that always cut the deepest.
Here now was a second tail, and he knew why. Nothingness, he thought, recalling the four tenants of Wiyu (harmony, wisdom, nothingness, and purity), not purity. Nozari was wrong. I am not dead yet. I guess that means one day I’ll have to visit Mrov.
Lord Beerus appeared over the surface of Mrov. Having detected his presence, Supreme Admiral Seigfon, aboard the Lance of Mrov, assembled several additional vessels to confront the hairless space feline, and a compromise was worked out. It goes as follows, so far as anyone knows:
“You know, I was going to destroy this planet if it wasn’t for this Inari I met back on Scrote.” Lord Beerus folded his arms to look very menacing and such. It was a terrifying sight for the good admiral to see the Destroyer of Worlds on Mrov. He was quite certain what would happen to him and everyone else were he to fail.
“What brings you here?”
“I am Beerus, the Destroyer,” the God of Destruction yawned, “and I spared your planet because of that Inari. I decided to blow up Scrote on his counsel instead of Mrov. However, in the process, all of the places to get food on Scrote were destroyed as well… so, you’re going to provide me with the greatest Mrovian feast in the history of your people.”
The Mrovians had long-known of this Destroyer, who destroyed planets on whims. They were prepared for the worst, but decided they would attempt to settle things peacefully. “So be it.” said the Mrovian. “And if I may ask, what is the name of the Inari who changed your mind?”
“Eh, I’ve forgotten,” Beerus tilted his head, his belly rumbling loudly. “So how about that feast? I don’t have all day.”
The Mrovian High Council, who had heard the conversation, began sending Mrovians to gather what fruit they could find.
It is stated by numerous apocryphal sources that Supreme Admiral Seigfon found five of Lord Beerus’ seven favorite Mrovian berries in the preparation for the feast, distinguishing himself as much as any Mrovian Supreme Admiral had on the battlefield before him, and he was by far the best one of all.
On the other hand, some scholars have argued that since Mrovians don’t eat anything, they couldn’t have possibly prepared a feast to Lord Beerus’ standards. If that were true, Mrov would be all exploded and stuff but it’s not so checkmate tien, if u dont believe even a supreme admiral can find some legit berries ur a right cunt.
- The name of this story references Beerus, his prestige, and his power.
- The prose is rather cheeky, adopting a style I took on in serious, canon stories of mine near the end of 2017 and up through the end of 2018. Definitely not my style nowadays, in 2020. I still do the cheeky style a little bit, but not in the same way as is presented in this story. This is an unsubtle way to do it.
- Wiyu is unlikely to be bullshit, but there could be other reasons that Inari grow tails. Who knows? I don't think I'll ever clarify that 100%.
- Okinaro deserves to have tails. He made a serious mistake trying to double-suicide with Chihako. That was a devastating mistake that cost him two tails. If he had kept those, he could have six or seven tails by Heart of the Dragon, making him likely even stronger than Ledas (at least until the Saiyan unlocks his post-SSB rage form). Ah, what could have been. That is why I described him as looking sterile with one tail. All Inari are born with one tail, but Okinaro had gotten past that point in the past. I hate to see him taken down like this, for he's one of my favorite OCs.
- "It is at this point the fox man’s name which is Okinaro is introduced in a seamless and clever way a little later into the text than it needed to be." - this was a small dig at myself. I do tend to do this in my one-shots.
- While Scrote had no native population, there a modest outpost full of off-worlders. Okinaro chose this planet because it's relatively unpopulated, but he can still go to town for some food whenever he wants.
- I honestly don't know what's up with the first section. Paragraph after paragraph didn't advance the plot at all. We do get some valuable insights into Okinaro's past, but the pacing isn't particularly good here.
- I think I was poking so much fun at Okinaro because I love him so much, but it's still a bit over the top.
- "For you see, in these days, randomly running up to someone and shouting at them in an annoying and self-aggrandizing manner led almost always to skirmishes, even amongst as passive and peace-loving a Wiyu monk as Okinaro, the Unshriven. He was obligated, if not compelled, to be utterly offended to the point of wanting to kill anyone who hurt his feelings, and such was the logical conclusion of any well-meaning intelligent hominid." - the point here is that Okinaro, despite his penchant for meditation, is impatient. This paragraph is also sarcastic, for in those days, that was certainly not the norm.
- Okinaro is most certainly a furry.
- The fat guy did it to himself. I do like satirizing characters who have no self-awareness, and that guy is probably the least aware person I've ever written for in a serious story.
- Okinaro killing the fat guy reveals a lot about his personality and morality. Goku, for example, would have never done that. I find characters like Goku to be morally uninteresting though so I rarely write people like that.
- "when evening came streaked in a blood-cloven sky, river rushing through fur" - this is a haiku. It is also a remnant of my stream-of-consciousness style first introduced in Ikigai. This is the most subtle text in the first section. Overtly, Okinaro is washing himself off after killing the man, but I think he's also enjoying the beautiful solitude of the place, which allows him to ruminate and reflect upon his emotions and memories.
- Quhm is, I think, an obvious cum joke.
- Manko is a Japanese word for pussy.
- Okinaro, being a trickster space fox, would know when someone is pulling a fast one on him in a card game. That's his bread and butter, that's how he makes most of his money to use in the restaurants.
- I tried to describe Quhm as a wild west style shantytown.
- Gekk is based on a merchant from Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic.
- The heavy use of italics is something that is no longer part of my writing style. I still use them sometimes, but not nearly to the degree I do in this one. It is something I consciously began to use less and less as my writing style changed over time.
- Okinaro's main aspect of character development has to do with him getting over the survivor's guilt he feels in regards to his failed double-suicide with Chihako. She was the one to initiate it (also having one more tail than him at the time meant that she was his superior in the temple), but he still feels responsible. Trying to let go of his guilt is easier said than done. He tries throughout the story to do that, but I don't think he ever does. He perhaps learns to deal with his emotions about those memories in a better way, however.
- Okinaro, like all Inari, can sense god ki. It is one of his species' special abilities.
- Sharu-Kan is not on Beerus' level, but he is no slouch. I believe he's the strongest Venyi instructor aside from Master Jabo. He is one of the most powerful beings in Universe 7.
- Okinaro doesn't particularly care about the Mrovians, but he's still put off by Beerus saying that he'll destroy planets at random, or on a whim. Taking out Mrov wouldn't destroy the Mrovian Republic, but it would cripple them.
- Okinaro was only half-kidding when he said that Scrote should burn instead of Mrov. Gekk's food becoming poor is a somewhat comedic reason for wishing for that, but it probably would have led Okinaro to visit some other planet, regardless. The only reason he was staying on Scrote was for Gekk's wonderful food. Food matters to Okinaro almost as much as it does for Beerus. He has a godly quality about him with that. As to why he earns his second tail, the question comes down to was it a "for the greater good" type of argument. I suppose there could be other reasons too, but those would be more subtle. In any case, it's not for me to answer that question. That's too revealing of Okinaro's character. I think his actions in the third scene, when he feels the need to talk to Beerus, even with the threat of being destroyed, say a lot about what kind of person he is.
- Beerus didn't care if he killed Okinaro when he blew up Scrote, but he knew it wasn't likely, as Inari can breathe in space and he could sense how strong the Unshriven was.
- Genshissa is of the same species as Malaka. He was written to be overbearing in an optimistic, exhausting way. I don't think I've written a character with his personality before or after this story. In any case, I find him to be somewhat hateable in the way that too much honey is sickening.
- Okinaro bows to no one.
- I had Icer and Okinaro meet in this story because they are going to have a moment, when they see other again, in Dragon Ball: Heart of the Dragon. Icer will remember Okinaro and will be most displeased he let the Inari get away from Planet Icer 005 back in the day.
- When I wrote for Icer in this story, in the fourth scene, I tried to show him when he was young and not so refined and aware of things. He lets his excitement seep out, showing off some true facts about his personality that he otherwise tries to hide later in life.
- Genshissa and Icer talk about Okinaro like he's meat, like he's a slave to be used as they please. There is something sickening to me about how eager Genshissa is to learn about Okinaro's biology. He's not interested in anything other than expanding his database of species. Neither one of them sees Okinaro as a person, but as something they could use to further their own goals.
- Okinaro is mistaken about the tenant he masters to unlock his tail. His third tail is tied to nothingness, however.
- The fifth scene was mostly written by me and then edited by Hyper Zergling. I am going to have to be harsh here. A lot of HZ's edits made this story worse, but I didn't bother re-editing his lines because this scene dealt with his characters and he was nice enough to involve them in the first place. It is what it is. I am not satisfied with his level of writing, though.
- I don't really see how the Mrovians could have known about Beerus, but they're a god-modded civilization, so it's to be expected I guess.
- The way that HZ changed Seigfron's dialogue in my opinion makes him a plastic character with no personality to speak of. The way he talks to Beerus is also very disrespectful in my opinion. He seems to not like the guy at all and is overtly impolite. If I were writing this and the character said that, Beerus would have destroyed Mrov.
- It is only fitting that Beerus forgot Okinaro's name. However, he never learned it in the first place, in the text of this story, unless Whis spoiled him after he blew up Scrote.
- "The Mrovian High Council, who had heard the conversation, began sending Mrovians to gather what fruit they could find." - this was the line that HZ wrote that he thought would be an appropriate end to the story. Seriously. He's college-educated too. That line made me reassess some of my relationship with HZ, as I realized I was dealing with someone who was not level 100, nor very close to it, in writing, or plotting.
- The final two paragraphs are reworked paragraphs that HZ originally deleted. I added them back in because this is my story. I am not sure if he's ever read them. Given how few of my stories he's read in general, it's almost a 100% certainty that he is unaware that I added them back in.
This is an inconsistent story. As with many of my older stories, I like the plot of it, but not necessarily the execution. The prose is sloppy and too emotional for my tastes in 2020. The plot is fine though, and the interaction between Okinaro and Beerus was probably the highlight. I don't really like the final scene; it's poorly written and poorly conceived, which makes this analysis difficult, as that scene is fairly important. Oh well, I won't ever have to read this again. Also, this was instructive in so far as I learned that it's not a good idea to co-write a prose story with HZ as he is worse at writing that even TUN, it must be said. It wasn't just the prose, but the dialogue and the plotting itself. He was supremely arrogant with the Mrovians in the final section... and it's like, dude have some humility. Beerus could've destroyed them. They aren't grateful at all. They act like hostile cunts. Their reactions would have made him kill them had I been ballsy and re-written Beerus into character in that final scene. But we need Mrov for other stories, so compromises had to be made.
<---- Part 100
Part 102 ---->