Smoke rose from the ruins.
What had once been a civilization, cities, temples, was now ash and rubble stretching to the horizon. The twin moons hung low in the turquoise sky.
Four Saiyans sat among the destruction.
One leaned against a crumbled wall. Another crouched nearby, cleaning gore from her armor. A third stood with arms crossed, surveying their handiwork with satisfaction.
"Did you hear?"
Fasha broke the silence, adjusting her pink chest plate. Her dark hair short.
"Frieza-sama and King Cold-sama are coming to meet with King Vegeta again."
Toma looked up from her sitting. Tall, muscular, a scar on her left eyebrow.
"We know. There's also his second son. Cooler-sama, I think."
"Three of them." The third Saiyan, Borgos, built like a tank, grunted. "That's a lot of royalty in one place."
"Can you imagine?" Fasha stretched, joints popping. "That much power gathered together. They say King Cold conquered his first galaxy before Frieza was even born. And Frieza-sama..." She shuddered appreciatively. "They say he's never even shown his true power."
"Doesn't matter to us," Toma said. "As long as we're under them, the work keeps coming."
She gestured at the devastation around them.
"More planets to conquer. More missions. More glory." A grin spread across her face. "The Saiyan army's never been busier."
"True." Fasha rolled her shoulders. "Remember when we had to fight for scraps? Now Frieza-sama's handing us entire systems."
"Because we're useful," Borgos rumbled. "The moment we're not..."
She didn't finish the thought.
They turned to the fourth member of their squad.
She lay on the scorched ground, arms folded behind her head, staring at the smoke-stained sky. Her armor was similar to theirs, dark chest plate, hip guards, the standard issue of Frieza's army, but without the shoulder pads. More mobile. More aggressive.
Her distinct features set her apart, red wristbands wrapped around her forearms, and a pale scar cutting across her left cheek. A memento from a battle.
"Are you going to see the parade, Bardock?"
Bardock didn't move.
"Why would I?" Her voice was flat. Disinterested. "It's just another endless boring reunion. Politicians posturing. Royalty preening. Waste of time."
"But your daughter will be attending," Toma pressed. "She's a prodigy, isn't she?"
"Raditz has the potential to become an elite warrior," Fasha added. "Like Princess Vegeta herself."
"You can't compare them."
Toma's voice sharpened, suddenly defensive.
"Princess Vegeta is a real genius. She's been beating veteran elite warriors since she was a child. The youngest Super Elite in recorded history. Raditz is talented, but she's not-"
"I didn't compare them," Fasha interrupted, hands raised. "I'm just saying Bardock should be proud."
Bardock said nothing.
The silence stretched.
"By the way," Toma ventured carefully, "how's your newborn? What was her name... Kakarot?"
Something flickered across Bardock's face.
"Tch." She turned her head, spitting the twig in her mouth. "Already forgot about her."
"What?"
"She's a weakling. Power level barely registered when she was born." Bardock's lip curled with disgust. "She'll be sent to some backwater planet soon. Conquer or die."
Fasha studied her squad leader.
"Heartless as usual."
Bardock's eyes met hers.
"A real Saiyan," Fasha finished.
"Come on." Toma stood, stretching. "Let's head back and report. I want a hot meal and a real bed."
"And alcohol," Borgos added.
"And alcohol," Toma agreed.
Bardock remained on the ground a moment longer.
Her eyes traced the unfamiliar constellations above. Somewhere out there, on a planet she'd never see, her youngest daughter would grow up alone. Fight alone. Probably die alone.
*Good*, she thought. *If she survives, she'll be strong.*
*If she doesn't...*
She stood.
*Then she was never worth remembering anyway.*
---
Deep Space, Frieza's Flagship
The ship cut through the void.
Massive. Its curved architecture. Thousands served aboard, soldiers, scientists, servants, all existing at the pleasure of a single being.
Footsteps echoed through the observation deck.
Zarbon approached with grace, his turquoise skin catching the starlight that filtered through the massive viewport. Long green hair braided down his back. Golden eyes set in features almost too beautiful to be real. He moved like a dancer.
"Frieza-sama."
He stopped at a respectful distance.
Bowed.
"The planet Kanassa has been wiped out. Complete extinction. The Saiyan squad reports no survivors."
Before the viewport, silhouetted against the infinite cosmos, Frieza sat in silence.
His hover pod floated motionless, suspending him above the deck like an emperor surveying his domain. His form was deceptively small, compact white and purple bio-armor, a tail curling lazily behind him, horns crowning his head like a demon's. His first form. His restrained form.
He didn't turn around.
The stars reflected in his wine-dark eyes as he gazed into the void. Planets. Systems. Galaxies. All of it his.
"Zarbon."
His voice was silk.
"Yes, Frieza-sama?"
"How long did it take them? The Saiyans?"
"Three days, my lord. The Kanassans had minor psychic abilities, they resisted longer than projected. But in the end..."
"In the end, they died." Frieza's tail twitched. Once. "As everything does."
"Indeed, my lord."
Silence.
Zarbon remained bowed, waiting. He knew better than to speak unbidden. Knew better than to assume the conversation was over.
"They're effective, aren't they?" Frieza mused. "The Saiyans."
"Extremely, my lord. Their conquest rate has increased forty percent this quarter alone. And their individual power levels continue to climb with each battle."
"Zenkai, they call it." The word dripped from Frieza's lips like venom. "The ability to grow stronger from near-death experiences. A remarkable trait."
"Yes, my lord."
"A concerning trait."
Zarbon's head lifted slightly. Just enough to catch the edge of his master's profile.
"Frieza-sama?"
"They grow stronger, Zarbon. Every battle. Every wound." Frieza's fingers drummed against his hover pod. "The super Saiyan.." he muttered.
"You believe they pose a threat, my lord?"
"My lord... surely you don't mean..."
"I mean nothing, Zarbon. I'm simply... observing." Frieza returned his gaze to the stars. "Thinking. Planning."
"What would you have me do, Frieza-sama?"
Frieza's smile widened.
In the viewport's reflection, it looked almost gentle. Almost kind. The smile of a parent considering a misbehaving child.
A child that might need to be corrected.
"Nothing, for now. Continue monitoring them. Their missions."
"And if they continue to grow?"
Frieza chuckled.
"Then we'll have a conversation, Zarbon. The Saiyans and I." His tail curled tighter. "A final conversation."
He waved a dismissive hand.
"Leave me. I wish to enjoy the view."
"Yes, Frieza-sama."
Zarbon bowed deeply and retreated.
His footsteps faded into silence.
Alone on the observation deck, Frieza stared into infinity.
And smiled.
---
Planet Vegeta, Training Facility.
The room glowed crimson.
Ten Saibamen crouched in a loose circle, their green bodies hunched and ready. Beady eyes gleamed with programmed malice. Claws flexed. Acid dripped from their skulls, sizzling against the floor.
In the center stood a child.
Not even ten years old. Small. Compact. A wild spiky black hair. She wore a blue bodysuit Nothing that would restrict movement. Nothing unnecessary.
Princess Vegeta.
Her tail swayed behind her.
---
Behind a monitor screen, two scientists watched with horror.
"Ten Saibamen?!" One clutched his clipboard. "This is too much! Even for Princess Vegeta, this is-"
"Quiet."
They turned.
Nappa leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her massive chest. She towered over both scientists, easily seven feet of solid muscle. A smirk tugged at her lips.
"Don't look away," she said, nodding toward the screen. "Or you'll miss it."
"Nappa-sama, with respect, the princess is still a child. If something goes wrong-"
"Nothing will go wrong."
The certainty in her voice silenced them.
On the screen, the Saibamen attacked.
They moved as one, a green blur of claws and teeth and murderous intent. Ten creatures designed for killing, each with a power level that would destroy most low-class warriors.
Princess Vegeta didn't move.
At the last possible moment, when claws were inches from her flesh, she shifted.
The first Saibaman's strike cut through empty air. Before it could recover, a thin beam of light pierced its skull. It crumpled.
She moved through them like water through stones, fluid. Each counterattack was a single finger beam, perfectly placed, instantly lethal.
The scientists' jaws hung open.
The last Saibaman hesitated. Some primitive survival instinct screaming warnings it couldn't understand.
Princess Vegeta appeared before it. Looked up into its beady eyes.
Smiled.
*Flash.*
---
The door hissed open.
Princess Vegeta strode out, not a scratch on her pristine bodysuit.
Nappa waited with her armor, the royal set, complete with shoulder pads and the crest of House Vegeta.
"Those Saibamen are pathetic." The princess's voice carried authority. Demanding. "I need a real challenge."
"Those Saibamen would slaughter most elite warriors, Princess." Nappa helped her into the armor. "But you're right. They're nothing to you."
"Then find me something better."
"We need to stay on Vegeta for now." Nappa fastened the cape, royal red, flowing, around the princess's small shoulders. "Frieza-sama and his family arrive in one week. After the ceremonies, we can travel to another planet. Find something worth killing."
Princess Vegeta's lip curled.
"A week of waiting."
"I know, Vegeta. But appearances must be maintained."
The child stood still as Nappa finished adjusting her cape. When she turned, the fabric billowed behind her.
"Fine." Her boots clicked against the floor as she marched toward the exit. "Let's go pay respects to my mother."
As they walked, neither noticed the distant sky.
Neither saw the small light appearing on the horizon.
Growing larger.
Faster.
---
The throne room stretched vast and imposing, columns of dark stone, banners bearing the royal crest, architecture designed to intimidate. Saiyan guards lined the walls in rigid attention. Noble-born warriors and alien diplomats clustered in groups, their conversations a low murmur of politics and paranoia.
At the room's heart, upon a throne, sat Queen Vegeta.
She was magnificent.
The same wild hair as her daughter, a mane befitting a lioness. Sharp features carved from pride and battle. Her armor was ceremonial but functional, her cape pooling around the throne.
"Queen Vegeta!"
A noble stepped forward, bowing deeply.
"A tournament would be the ideal entertainment for Frieza-sama and his family! A display of Saiyan might! Our warriors battling for glory while-"
"Nonsense!"
Another noble pushed forward, his voice sharp with disagreement.
"A parade is the proper greeting! A demonstration of our civilization's advancement! Followed by tribute- gifts worthy of the Cold family's magnificence!"
"Gifts? You would have us grovel like-"
"The tournament would be seen as a threat! Frieza-sama might interpret it as-"
The arguments swirled and crashed like waves against stone. More voices joined. More opinions. More fear dressed as strategy.
On her throne, Queen Vegeta's fist clenched.
Her teeth ground together.
"SILENCE!"
The word cracked through the chamber like thunder.
Every voice died. Every body froze. Even the guards seemed to stop breathing.
Queen Vegeta rose from her throne.
Slowly.
"Listen to yourselves." Her voice was quiet now. "Arguing over how best to entertain him. How best to please him. How best to serve him."
She descended the steps, each footfall echoing in the terrible silence.
"How the mighty Saiyans have fallen." Disgust dripped from every word. "The warrior race. The conquerors of worlds. Reduced to planning parties for that purple midget and his wretched family."
No one dared respond.
"We are slaves." She spat the word like poison. "Slaves pretending to be partners. Dogs given a longer leash and told to be grateful." Her eyes swept the room, marking each face, each flicker of fear.
Queen Vegeta returned to her throne.
---
The doors burst open.
"Mother!"
Every guard snapped to attention. Every noble rose and bowed. A path cleared instantly.
Princess Vegeta strode through, cape flowing behind her, head held high. Nappa followed with her massive frame.
"I have come to pay my respects!"
Queen Vegeta's expression softened.
"Vegeta. Come."
The princess approached the throne. Stopped at its base. Bowed her head.
"Did your training go well?"
"Yes, Mother." A flicker of frustration crossed the child's face. "But I've reached a wall. Fighting weaklings won't let me progress. I need real opponents."
Queen Vegeta's eyes sharpened.
*That won't do.*
She studied her daughter, this small, fierce, brilliant child. Power level already surpassing elites.
*My daughter is a genius. She will be the one to defeat Frieza. She will be the one to liberate our people.*
"You need a training partner," the Queen mused aloud. "Someone who can push you." Her gaze drifted to Nappa. "Perhaps-"
"Mother." Vegeta's voice was flat. "I'm already stronger than Nappa."
The giant woman twitched.
"I see." Queen Vegeta rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "You need a stronger opponent. But there is no one on this planet with a higher power level than myself. The elites are beneath you. The commanders are beneath you."
She stood.
"Very well. If no one else can challenge you-"
BOOM.
The wall exploded.
Stone and metal and reinforced glass, all of it became shrapnel, blasting inward like a bomb had detonated. The shockwave knocked nobles off their feet, sent guards stumbling, filled the air with dust and debris and screaming.
Something came through the breach.
A pod, small, spherical, scarred from atmospheric entry, tore through the throne room's exterior wall like paper. It carved a trench through the marble floor, spraying sparks and stone, spinning wildly before finally crashing into a support column.
The column cracked.
The pod came to rest in a crater of its own making, steam hissing from its scorched hull, metal groaning as it settled.
Chaos erupted.
"ATTACK! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"
"PROTECT THE QUEEN!"
"PROTECT THE PRINCESS!"
Guards surged forward, forming a living wall between the royal family and the intruder. Battle stances snapped into place..
Nappa was already in motion, placing herself directly in front of Princess Vegeta, one massive arm sweeping the child behind her.
"Stay back, Princess."
"I can fight!"
Queen Vegeta hadn't moved.
She stood at her throne, eyes fixed on the smoking pod, expression unreadable. One hand raised, a silent command that held her guards in check, preventing them from attacking blindly.
*Waiting.*
*Watching.*
The dust began to settle.
The steam began to clear.
And the pod...
*Hissed.*
The hatch cracked open.
Slowly.
A hand emerged, gripping the edge, pulling the rest of the body forward. Then another hand. Then.
A figure rose from the wreckage.
Tall. Powerfully built. Wild black hair. A tail swaying lazily behind him.
He stepped out of the pod, boots crunching on shattered marble, and surveyed the room with eyes that held no fear. No surprise. No concern for the dozens of warriors ready to kill him.
Behind him, a second figure emerged, smaller, feminine, her own tail curling nervously around her waist.
The guards tensed.
The nobles whispered.
Queen Vegeta's eyes narrowed.
And Princess Vegeta pushed past Nappa's protective arm, staring at the intruders with sudden, hungry interest.
"Well," the male Saiyan said, his voice cutting through the chaos with casual authority.
That smirk.
"When you let women drive."