As I watched Bulma, Krillin, and Gohan board the spaceship and leave Earth for Namek, I couldn't help but wish I'd done things differently. But here I am, still grounded—still left behind. Everything was playing out eerily similar to how I remembered it in the manga, but I've learned that "similar" doesn't mean "the same."
This time, I tried to make a difference. I spent time with Gohan, training him—not just in hand-to-hand combat, but in what it means to be a Saiyan. I could tell he was scared of that part of himself. He didn't understand it, and no one had ever taken the time to explain it to him. So I did.
The Oozaru form was something he had experienced once before, but without any understanding or control. It terrified him—and everyone around him. But I knew the truth: if he could learn to harness it, it could be a valuable weapon. More than that, it could help him understand who he is.
I started by telling him stories—not the usual Saiyan pride-filled tales, but honest ones. I told him what the transformation was, how the tail worked, what triggered it, and the danger it brought. We practiced meditation to calm his mind, to teach him focus and control. Then, under the cover of night, I created a fake moon using my ki and watched him transform again.
He lost control at first. He thrashed and roared, the raw power of the Oozaru threatening to crush everything in sight. But I didn't fight him—I guided him. I reminded him who he was. I yelled his name until he started to remember himself. Eventually, he stopped rampaging. He stood there, towering and monstrous, but with awareness in his eyes.
It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. Over the next few nights, we repeated the process. His control improved. He learned to move with purpose rather than rage. The wild beast became a weapon he could wield—at least for a few minutes before exhaustion took over. And even when he wasn't transformed, his base power increased. His instincts sharpened. He fought smarter.
Krillin was wary of the training. I could see it in his eyes. But he didn't interfere. Maybe part of him recognized that Gohan needed this—needed to know the full extent of his heritage to survive what lay ahead.
I know it's not enough. Not against what's waiting on Namek. But it's all I can do.
The reason I'm not on that ship is no mystery. They don't trust me, and honestly, I can't blame them. I betrayed Vegeta—someone I followed for most of my life. Why wouldn't they assume I'd turn on them too? The fact that I helped train Gohan doesn't erase my past. Not yet.
Besides training and honing my control over ki, I spent time talking with Goku. He's… simple, yes—but not the idiot people think he is. The way he sees the world is different. He doesn't overthink, but he notices things. He listens. He understands people, not in a calculated way, but in a genuine, almost innocent one. Maybe that's what being pure of heart really means.
I still don't know what my role is in all this. I don't know if I can change the future. But at least now… I'm trying.