Merely in terms of genetic ancestry was Koola related to his brother—the peon offspring of his father bloated with ego and power-hungry to a disturbing level, dubbed Freiza, whom his father had spawned purely as an object of torment for the older sibling.  The sentient feces child had aged to claim from King Cold the title of the universe’s tyrannus rex, a status rightfully belonging to the more malicious, mightier, and elder of the two: Koola.

    Consequently, Koola despised his father for committing such a ruthless betrayal; such tasteless ignorance of the throne’s logical heir, such idiocy as to opt not to—if Freiza wasn’t an intended injury dealt from Cold to Koola, and Freiza was such—toss the imperial blemish to his death at the hands of some vicious pack of animals—the equally repulsing Saiya-jins, for example—could fuel no response from Koola but abhorrence.

    This ill will towards his relations left Koola at the unforgiving mercy of emotional doldrums when he became aware that his father and brother had been killed, or rather been slaughtered, by some infinitesimally puny Saiya-jin, a disgusting evolutionary mishap of mental and physical power that had escaped the fate of extinction decreed by Freiza himself, which had removed all Saiya-jin blood from space.

    Had his opinion of the deceased been any different, Koola most certainly would have lashed out in a blind rage and ceased the existence of a good third or so of the universe, including the hideous perpetrator, and labeled it vengeance before he ripped space-time to ribbons and annihilated the grimy insect, again, in the afterlife, and perpetuated a cycle of universal obliteration and death with the volatile fuel of unbeatable power on the end of consuming wrath’s leash.

    But the great justice done by the Saiya-jin obliged Koola to feel indebted to the warrior whom the kills belonged to, for Koola’s tremendous annoyance, the curse of his life, had been ended by the creature.  He was half inclined to track the Saiya-jin down, shake his hand, give him total reign over a large swath of the cosmos, and label it the smallest extent of his gratitude.  The only reason he himself had not stepped forth and assaulted the two until they crumpled was that he had too much intelligence to flaunt such a protest at them and fall victim to irreparable damage to his psyche caused by a deluge of fury.

    One simple thought separated these two vastly opposing courses of action, preventing either from overthrowing the other and initiating itself: a primal, putrid beast—a Saiya-jin—had absolutely defaced the whole of the empire by incinerating its figureheads without any exertion.  The insult was so monumental that Koola felt sickened at the thought of ascending to a throne marred by such a disgusting act, regardless of how inferior and deserving the former in-powers had been.  The death of his father and brother had soiled Koola’s self with rancid humiliation; he was the son of a man and brother of another who had been killed, and easily so, by a creature as lowly as they come, a Saiya-jin, and considered it an insufferable embarrassment.

    He had to clean himself.