I shouldn't be alive.
The thought struck me the moment I opened my eyes. The air was sterile, almost too clean. The ceiling above me was smooth, white, unfamiliar. Somewhere nearby, a machine beeped steadily, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat. I could feel the soreness in my body—tight muscles, shallow breaths, a dull throb in my spine—but the pain only confirmed it: I was still here.
Alive.
But I shouldn't be.
The last thing I remembered was Kakarot's fist caving in my spine. Then, the heat—Vegeta's ki blast, tearing through me without hesitation. That was the end. I felt it. I died.
So why am I breathing again?
I pushed myself upright slowly, each motion stiff, unnatural. The room looked like something out of a sci-fi movie—metallic walls, blue holographic panels, and an observation window covered by a closed curtain. It should've felt alien. And yet... it didn't. Somehow, this place felt familiar, like I'd lived here for years. Like waking up in a dream you've had before.
That's when it hit me.
Memories—fragmented, scattered, not mine—rushed through my head. Names, faces, streets I'd never walked but knew by heart. A life I didn't live but somehow remembered. In this world... the one I came from—my world—it was fiction. Just a story. A cartoon.
That revelation should've broken me. It almost did.
My entire existence, all those battles, the pain, the loyalty I gave so freely... it was just entertainment here. I'd been reduced to a background character in someone else's saga.
And the worst part?
Vegeta never even tried to bring me back.
After everything—I followed him across galaxies, fought beside him, bled for him—he didn't lift a damn finger. Not even a wish on the Dragon Balls. I was nothing to him. Just a pawn. Just a tool.
But he got a second chance.
Why didn't I?
I clenched my fists, feeling my breath quicken. Anger pulsed in my chest like a second heartbeat. I was supposed to be dead, yet here I was. My body was different—more human, softer maybe—but I could still feel something deep inside. Faint, but real.
Ki.
It flickered in my core like an ember refusing to die. I raised my hand, focusing the way I once had in training. The sensation was weaker than before, distant, but still there. My energy hadn't left me. It had followed me.
A second chance.
Maybe not as a Saiyan, but something remained. A piece of that warrior—the pain, the strength, the will to survive.
And maybe... that's all I need.
I sat back against the wall, breathing slowly, letting the thoughts wash over me. For the first time in a long time, there was no battle waiting, no orders to follow, no prince to kneel before. Just me—and the life I had left to live.
No more chains. No more following someone else's pride.
This time... I live for me.