T’charrl stared at Nema with a little worry and concern, watching as he picked up the fruit and cut it in half. He didn’t know what the King was planning with the fruit as if expecting him to eat it, not exactly start talking about him and using the fruit to demonstrate. Shifting a little uncomfortably on his seat he slowly raised his shoulders, lowering his head as he continued to watch the fruit being cut away. He felt a little broken when putting it that way, his mind in need of repairs. Maybe if the explanation wasn’t done in such a brutal way he would’ve felt a little better about it, not quite fearing for his mind and body at the same time. Frowning deeply he looked slowly over to his father again, hearing out his plan of action. It was certainly great that they both had an idea on what they were going to do to help him but in combination with the sliced fruit and the thought of training until he was hurting made him a little worried. Flying wasn’t too bad, but if he got too tired and crashed he would injure himself pretty badly.

 Watching as his father then proceeded to carve into the table he gasped and shrank away a little, looking between his father and Nema quickly before he rubbed at his head in worry and embarrassment. “Father…that’s not our table…b-but I, uhh, understand…” His only hope now was that he wasn’t going to end up crashing and having to get medical attention. He would just be destroying progress and making things so much worse. He knew he was a bit of an idiot sometimes and very clumsy, but he hoped he wasn’t going to be as such while training. Sighing a little he looked back to his father, smiling a little. “I think it sounds pretty good…I mean, I look forward to it, even if it’s going to be difficult I’ll still try really hard to get better! I don’t want to be weak and struggle anymore, I want to be strong…”

--

Viral didn’t much care for talking about his condition, it was just making him angry at himself for even getting into this state. He was supposed to be proud and strong, but this just made him weak and pathetic. He didn’t care if Aito told him he was strong for whatever reason, if he was constantly feeling weakened and unable to get a clean win he wasn’t strong and that was it. This was already starting to feel like a whole load of pointlessness. He didn’t know how talking about such trivial things was going to help him when it certainly didn’t feel great to talk about these things. By all means he was feeling worse, especially when Aito was proceeding to question him about his reasons for feeling this way. Getting annoyed he slowly slouched back, his arms folded. “If I can’t get my head in what I was made to do, then that’s failure…”

Aito just sounded like he had read all this from a textbook the previous day and was reciting certain points from it. He wasn’t going to go ahead and say he was wrong to feel those things and that he felt a lot better because he had been told otherwise, it wasn’t going to be that simple. Narrowing his gaze when he was simply given more questions to answer he growled lowly, tapping his foot against the floor momentarily. “I’ve not had a victory in a long time! Battles always end with a large loss, they just feel like jobs that need completed with nothing gained and everything lost”, he grunted before slowly sitting up again, “Incase you missed it with I don’t doubt that you just didn’t care or bother to pay attention, but the whole reason we’re even off Earth in the first place is because I lost! I couldn’t defeat a single Saiyan by myself and I was chosen to protect the planet? Everything that’s happened is because I lost! Are you satisfied or are you simply going to give me the generic ‘not your fault’ speech…”