Smoke rose from the crashed pod.
Dust thick and impenetrable, obscuring everything within a ten-foot radius of the impact crater. Sparks crackled from torn metal.
Through the haze, a figure emerged.
Coughing.
Goku waved a hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air from his lungs. His white shirt, loose, casual, was now gray with dust. His pants were scuffed. His sneakers had seen better days.
His tail swayed behind him, equally dusty.
The smoke began to thin.
And he saw them.
The throne room had transformed into a battlefield formation.
Royal guards stood in a defensive line, raised palms, bodies coiled for violence. Their scouters beeped and flickered, readings stabilizing on the intruders.
2.
*The male reads... 2?*
Confusion rippled through their ranks. A power level of 2 was nothing. An insect. A mistake.
1490.
The female behind him was more substantial. Warrior-class, at least.
Behind the guards, standing with arms loose at her sides, Queen Vegeta watched. Her expression revealed nothing.
To her left, Nappa had positioned herself in front of Princess Vegeta, a wall of muscle between the heir and the threat. But the young princess wasn't cooperating. She pushed against Nappa's protective arm, craning her neck, eyes wide with hungry curiosity.
"Let me see, I want to see what crashed!"
The dust cleared further.
Goku's form became visible, tall, broad, unmistakably male. Wild hair. Easy posture. A face that held no fear whatsoever.
He looked at the assembled warriors.
At the guards ready to kill him.
At the massive woman shielding the small princess.
At the Queen upon her throne.
And smiled.
"Hello there."
"SEIZE HIM!"
Nappa's roar shattered the moment.
The royal guards surged forward, eight elite warriors moving with synchronized precision.
The first reached Goku in a heartbeat, her palm strike aimed at his solar plexus.
Goku shifted.
Minimal movement. His body rotated just enough to let the strike pass, his hand coming up to redirect her momentum. She flew past him, balance destroyed, stumbling into the debris.
The second and third attacked together, high and low, meant to overwhelm.
Goku stepped into the gap between them.
His elbow found one's stomach. His palm found the other's chin. Neither blow looked powerful. Both women dropped like puppets with cut strings.
"He's-" one guard started.
Goku was already moving.
It wasn't a fight.
He flowed through them like water through fingers, always where they weren't, never where they expected. Every attack met empty air. Every defense opened.
A sweep took out legs. An open palm deflected a ki blast into the ceiling. A gentle push sent a charging guard careening into her comrades.
One guard managed to grab his shirt from behind. Goku didn't even turn, his elbow snapped back, finding her ribs, and she released.
Another tried a desperate ki barrage. Goku walked through it, deflecting each blast with casual slaps, advancing until he stood before her. His finger flicked her forehead.
She crumpled.
In under eight seconds, eight elite guards lay scattered across the throne room.
Groaning. Clutching injuries. Staring at the ceiling in disbelief.
Goku stood among them, white shirt now torn in several places but posture relaxed.
He looked toward the throne.
Queen Vegeta's arms were crossed.
"He's pretty strong," she observed. Her voice carried no alarm. Only interest. "For a man."
Beside her, Princess Vegeta's small fists clenched.
"Did you see that, Nappa?" The child's voice trembled, not with fear, but excitement. "Did you see? He took them all down! He could be, he could finally be-"
*A training dummy worth having.*
The thought blazed in her young eyes.
"WORTHLESS MAN SCUM!!!"
Nappa stepped forward, her massive frame casting a shadow across the debris.
"How dare you attack the royal family!" Her ki flared, power level spiking on every scouter in the room. "How dare you raise your filthy hands against Saiyan warriors!"
She dropped into a battle stance, feet planted wide, fists raised, muscles coiling with violence.
"I'll crush you myself!"
Behind Goku, unnoticed by all, Eve stared at Queen Vegeta.
Something flickered across her face.
*She looks the same. Exactly the same. Even her voice...*
Eve's eyes grew wet.
She blinked it away. Forced herself to focus.
*Not now.*
Goku met Nappa's glare.
Assessed her.
*Strong. Much stronger than the guards.*
He could take her. Easily.
Movement behind him.
Eve's hand found his tail, grabbed it, shoved it up under his shirt, hiding it from view. Her arms wrapped around him from behind, squeezing tight.
Her lips found his ear.
"Play along."
Then, louder: "My Queen! I have apprehended this man!"
Queen Vegeta's eyes narrowed.
Princess Vegeta's brow furrowed.
"Apprehended?" The Queen's voice dripped with skepticism. "He doesn't look particularly apprehended."
"He- he surprised the guards, but I managed to-"
Nappa moved.
No warning. No announcement.
One moment she stood in her battle stance. The next, her fist connected with Goku's face.
BOOM.
The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the throne room. Wind blasted outward, tearing at clothing, sending loose debris flying. The floor cracked beneath Goku's feet.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't move.
Just... took it.
Nappa's grin spread wide.
"Not so tough now, are you? Fighting a real elite warrior."
She grabbed his leg.
Swung.
SLAM.
His body cratered the marble floor.
SLAM.
Again. Deeper.
SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.
Nappa whipped him back and forth like a ragdoll, each impact sending fresh cracks spider-webbing across the ancient stone. Dust exploded. Debris scattered.
She leaped.
Brought both feet down on his chest.
Landed on his hips, straddling him, fists already descending.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Each punch drove him deeper into the ground. His shirt tore. His skin split. Blood mixed with dust and sweat.
BOOM. BOOM.
Nappa's eyes were wild. Savage. Satisfied.
"Enough."
Nappa froze mid-swing.
Queen Vegeta hadn't raised her voice. Hadn't needed to. The single word carried absolute authority.
Slowly, Nappa lowered her fist.
Rose from Goku's battered body.
Stepped back.
The dust began to settle.
And there he lay, face covered in dirt, eyes closed, body limp in the crater his own beating had created. His white shirt was shreds. His chest was bruised. He looked... broken.
Unconscious.
"Tch."
Princess Vegeta descended from where she was standing, approaching the crater's edge.
"I had my hopes up."
She raised one finger.
Ki gathered at its tip, a small sphere, glowing gold in the dim light.
Nappa scrambled backward, clearing the blast zone.
Eve's heart stopped.
*No. No no no-*
"STOP!"
The word echoed through the throne room.
Absolute.
Everyone froze.
Princess Vegeta's eyes went wide.
"...Mother?"
Queen Vegeta stood motionless, eyes fixed on Goku's broken form. Something flickered in her expression.
Not mercy. Saiyans didn't do mercy.
Suspicion.
"Mother!" Princess Vegeta's voice pitched with frustration. "Let us not be weak! We must kill this intruder! We Saiyans cannot be looked down upon, we must show strength! We must-"
"I said enough."
The Queen's voice could have frozen suns.
"Take him to the holding facility. Put him with the other males."
Princess Vegeta's tiny fists clenched. Her tail bristled with barely contained fury.
"As you command, Mother."
The word dripped with childish venom.
She turned on her heel and stormed toward the exit, cape billowing behind her. Nappa hesitated, glanced at the Queen, at the battered male, at the strange female who'd arrived with him, then followed her charge.
Their footsteps faded.
A noble crept forward.
Elderly. Decorated. Foolish enough to speak.
"My Queen... pardon my insolence, but..." He wrung his hands nervously. "It is not befitting a Queen to make use of common captured males. The bloodline must remain pure. A Queen should only... entangle... with the highest ranks. As with Princess Vegeta's sire, who was-"
Queen Vegeta's ki pulsed.
The walls trembled.
The noble's words died in his throat.
"Keep. Your mouth. Shut."
He bowed so low his forehead touched the cracked floor.
"F-forgive me, my Queen-"
She'd already turned away.
The remaining guards lifted Goku's limp body, two at his arms, two at his legs. They carried him toward a side passage.
Queen Vegeta watched him go.
That look still on her face.
Suspicious.
Then her gaze shifted.
Found Eve.
The same look. The same intensity.
"You." The Queen's voice was ice. "The female who 'apprehended' him."
Eve stood rigid. "Y-yes, my Queen?"
"You may go now."
Eve bowed deeply, hiding her face.
"Yes, my Queen."
She turned and walked away.
Queen Vegeta stood alone in the ruined throne room.
The nobles had fled. The guards had dispersed. Only silence remained, silence and destruction.
She walked to the crater where Goku had lain.
Looked at the cracks spreading from where his feet had been planted.
At the impact marks where his deflections had redirected her guards.
At the damage, casual, effortless damage, that a supposed power level of 2 had inflicted on her elite warriors.
Her hand trembled.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
*He can suppress his ki ?*
*He LET Nappa beat him.*
*He was never unconscious.*
*Who ARE you?*
*And why are you here?*
—
The guards carried him through winding passages.
Cold stone. Dim lighting. The deeper parts of the palace where sunlight never reached.
Goku hung limp between them, two gripping his arms, two at his legs. Dead weight. Or so they thought.
"Fucking scum."
The guard at his left arm spat the words, her jaw still aching from their brief encounter in the throne room.
"How did this trash move so fast? He almost broke my jaw."
"You've always had a glass jaw, Pampunkin."
"What did you say!?"
"I said-"
"Shut up, both of you."
The guard at his right arm adjusted her grip, her eyes drifting down to Goku's exposed torso. His shirt hung in shreds, Nappa's beating had seen to that. Bronze skin stretched over muscle, dust doing nothing to hide the definition beneath.
Her hand drifted.
Fingertips traced along his abs. Feeling the ridges. The warmth.
Going lower.
"I have to say..." Her voice dropped, something hungry entering it. "He is a fine specimen. I'll take great pleasure breaking him in."
"Hands off."
Another guard shoved her arm away.
"I'm first. I saw him before you did."
"That's not how it-"
"None of you will get him."
The fourth guard, older, more experienced, silenced them with a look.
"Queen Vegeta might want him for herself."
Stunned silence.
Then laughter.
"What?" One of them snorted. "Royalty has their own selection of males. The best. The strongest. Bred specifically for their bloodline."
"And Queen Vegeta is notoriously picky," another added. "The only male she's ever taken was Princess Vegeta's progenitor. And that was, what, ten years ago?"
"Maybe she saw something in this one."
"Or maybe she's finally giving in. Look at him." The guard's eyes traced Goku's unconscious form appreciatively. "Even beaten half to death, he's gorgeous. Maybe she just wants a good time."
"Shut up."
They walked in silence after that.
But their eyes kept wandering.
—
The Male Quarter.
The facility squatted in the palace's depths like an open secret.
Iron bars. Stone cells. The smell of perfume and desperation mixing in the recycled air.
The guards approached the main holding area, a large communal space behind reinforced barriers. Bodies shifted in the dim light. Faces turned toward the newcomers.
"Move back, rent-boys!"
Pampunkin's voice cracked like a whip.
"You've got a new one!"
She grabbed Goku and threw.
His body flew through the open gate, ragdolling across the floor, skidding to a stop in a cloud of dust and scattered debris.
The gate clanged shut.
Locked.
"Have fun, ladies." The guards laughed among themselves as they walked away. "Try not to break this one before we do."
Their footsteps faded.
Silence settled.
Every male in the facility had pressed themselves against the walls.
Dozens of them. Different species. Different sizes. Different stages of broken.
They stared at the new arrival, this battered, bleeding figure lying motionless on the cold floor.
Moments passed.
Then, movement.
A small figure crept forward.
Pink skin. Bulbous head. Large eyes that held too much kindness for a place like this. Two antenna drooped from his upper lip like a sad mustache.
He knelt beside Goku's body.
"They beat him up badly."
Murmurs from behind.
"Look at those wounds..."
"Saiyans don't hold back."
"He'll be useless for weeks. Maybe permanently."
"Another broken one..."
The pink alien ignored them. His small hands hovered over Goku's injuries, assessing without touching.
"Hey." His voice was gentle. Worried. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
"Hello? If you can understand me, please respond. You need medical attention. I know some basic-"
"Are they gone?"
The voice was low.
Deep.
Completely unbothered.
The pink alien froze. "W-what?"
"The guards. Are they gone?"
"I... yes, they left, but-"
Goku's eyes snapped open.
He sat up like nothing had happened, smooth, easy, not a hint of pain in his movements. Dust fell from his shoulders. Blood still marked his skin. But his posture was relaxed.
Like he'd been napping.
Every male in the facility scrambled backward.
"*What the-*"
"He was faking!?"
Goku stretched his arms above his head, joints popping.
"Much better." He rolled his neck. "That floor was uncomfortable."
The pink alien stared at him with bulging eyes.
"Aren't you... aren't you hurt?"
"Hmm?" Goku glanced at his wounds, bruises, dried blood. "Nah. I'm good."
He turned to look at the alien properly.
And recoiled.
"Ugh! You're ugly!" The words escaped before he could stop them. "Sorry, didn't mean to say out loud."
The alien blinked.
Then, surprisingly, laughed.
"Ugly? Maybe to you." A hint of pride entered his voice. "But I was considered one of the most handsome males on Planet Yardrat. "
Goku studied him.
This strange little creature with pink skin and sad eyes. His mouth moved, forming words.
"I have my ideas," Goku said slowly, "but I'll ask anyway. Where exactly are we?"
The Yardratian gestured at their surroundings, the cells, the bars, the other males watching from the shadows.
"This is the Royal Pleasure Facility. The... Male Quarter."
"Pleasure Facility."
"Yes."
Goku looked around properly for the first time.
Near the walls, several males sat before mirrors, applying cosmetics, styling hair, adjusting what little clothing they wore. Preening. Preparing. Making themselves beautiful.
Others huddled in corners, hollow-eyed and vacant.
Others still sat in defiant clusters, arms crossed, expressions hard.
"So you're all basically whores?"
The Yardratian flinched at the bluntness.
"...forced ones, yes. We were kidnapped. Or sold. Or taken as spoils of conquest." He looked at his small pink hands. "The Saiyans conquered my world three years ago. I was... collected. Brought here."
"And them?" Goku nodded toward the males at the mirrors. "Why are they making themselves attractive? Seems counterproductive if you don't want to be a prostitute."
The Yardratian's laugh was hollow.
"You get picked regardless of what you want. That's not the question." He sat beside Goku, legs crossed, voice taking on a resigned quality. "The question is who picks you."
"Explain."
"The more beautiful you are, the higher your rental price. And the higher your price, the more likely you are to be selected by someone... higher ranked."
"And higher ranked means...?"
"Less ugly. Less violent. Less likely to break bones for entertainment." The Yardratian shrugged. "Low-class warriors come here after battle, drunk on blood and victory. They don't care about beauty. They want to hurt something."
He pointed to a male in the corner, humanoid, blue-skinned, one arm hanging at an unnatural angle.
"That one was picked by a low-class squadron last week. They used him until he stopped screaming, then threw him back."
Goku's expression didn't change.
But something flickered behind his eyes.
"And those?" He pointed to another group, males sitting in sullen silence, untouched by cosmetics, defiance radiating from their postures. "Why aren't they preparing?"
"New arrivals. They still refuse to accept their situation." The Yardratian's voice softened with something like pity. "They think resistance means something here. They think pride will protect them."
"Will it?"
"No." Simple. Factual. "They all break eventually. The ones who fight back just break harder."
Goku absorbed this.
The facility. The system. The careful hierarchy of degradation.
*Males as property. As entertainment. As stress relief for a warrior race.*
He thought of Raditz. Of the proud Saiyan woman he'd methodically broken down, conditioned, transformed into his loyal guard dog.
*Not so different, is it?*
The irony wasn't lost on him.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The Yardratian blinked, surprised by the question.
"Soba. My name is Soba."
"Soba." Goku nodded. "I'm Goku."
"Goku..." Soba tested the name. "That's... not a species I recognize. What world are you from?"
"Somewhere far away."
"And how did you end up here? You don't seem like the usual... acquisitions."
"That's a long story."
—
Planet Vegeta, Landing Bay.
The pod doors hissed open.
Bardock stepped out first, rolling her shoulders, cracking her neck.
Behind her, Toma, Fasha, and Borgos emerged from their own pods, armor still stained with Kanassan blood.
"Home sweet home," Fasha stretched dramatically. "I need a bath, a meal, and a male. In that order."
"You always need a male," Toma muttered.
"And you don't?"
"I have standards."
"Standards are for elites who can afford them."
Bardock ignored their bickering, eyes scanning the landing bay. Something was wrong. The usual bustle was muted. Guards clustered in groups, whispering. And in the distance.
Smoke.
Rising from the palace's eastern tower.
"What happened there?" Bardock's voice cut through the chatter.
A nearby guard snapped to attention.
"Commander Bardock! There was an incident. Someone crashed into the throne room."
"Crashed?"
"A pod, ma'am. Came out of nowhere. We thought it was an attack, but..." The guard hesitated. "It was just one male. They captured him."
Fasha's ears perked.
"A male? Crashed into the throne room ?"
"Yes, ma'am. Apparently he fought off the royal guard before Nappa subdued him."
"A male fought off the royal guard?" Toma raised an eyebrow. "What species?"
The guard shifted uncomfortably.
"That's the strange part, ma'am. He... he looks like us. Saiyanoid. Almost identical."
Silence.
Then Fasha grabbed Bardock and Toma by the arms, yanking them toward the palace.
"We're going. Now."
"What- Fasha, let go-"
"A Saiyanoid male! Do you understand how rare that is?!" Her eyes gleamed with excitement. "I'm picking him tonight!"
Toma pulled her arm free but kept pace.
"I have to admit, I'm curious. A male that resembles us..." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe his anatomy is normal-shaped too."
"Exactly!" Fasha practically vibrated. "Those weird aliens have such strange genitals. Tentacles and barbs and things that retract-"
"I don't need details."
"and it never feels right! But a Saiyanoid? Maybe he's actually compatible."
Bardock's face twisted with disgust.
"What the hell is wrong with both of you?"
Fasha and Toma looked at her like she'd grown a second head.
"Don't give us that look," Fasha scoffed. "When's the last time you visited the facility?"
"I don't need-"
"Everyone needs stress relief, Bardock. Even you."
"Please." Toma smirked. "Bardock probably forgot how it works."
"I know how it works-"
"Then come with us!" Fasha tugged harder. "Just to look! I want your opinion!"
Bardock sighed.
Long. Deep. The sigh of someone who knew resistance was futile.
"Fine."
---
Inside the facility, Goku sat cross-legged on the cold floor.
Soba had settled beside him.
Nearby, the other males had returned to their routines. Some preened before mirrors. Some huddled in defeated silence. And some-
"Hey, pink shit!"
The voice cut across the room like a blade.
Gorbu. A massive alien, easily seven feet tall, blue-skinned, muscled in a way that spoke of a warrior's past.
"Pass me the brush."
Goku watched the interaction.
Soba sighed, a small, tired sound, and began to rise.
"Stop."
The word came from another male.
"What did I say?" He looked at Soba with desperate eyes. "Always use that thing. Don't give him the satisfaction of+"
Soba shook his head gently.
Then pressed two fingers to his forehead.
And vanished.
Goku's eyes went wide.
One moment Soba was beside him. The next, nothing. No blur. No movement. Just absence.
Then he reappeared across the room, beside Gorbu's lackey holding the brush.
Gone again.
Back beside Gorbu himself.
Brush delivered.
The entire sequence took less than a second.
*I... I couldn't follow him.*
Goku's mind raced.
*I've never met anyone faster than my eyes. I track everything. So how is he moving so fast?*
His gaze sharpened on the little Yardratian.
*Or... is he moving at all?*
Gorbu laughed, a cruel, barking sound, and backhanded Soba across the face.
"Faster next time, runt."
Soba stumbled but didn't fall. He simply... absorbed it. Rose. Returned to Goku's side without complaint.
Like he'd done it a thousand times before.
"What was that?"
Goku's question was immediate. Intense.
Soba blinked, rubbing his cheek.
"That was Gorbu. He has the highest power level here, so he acts as the leader. We follow his rules or-"
"I don't care about him."
Goku leaned closer, eyes locked on Soba.
"The way you moved. What was that?"
"Oh. That's called Instant Transmission." Soba's voice took on a note of quiet pride. "It's a Yardratian technique. We focus on someone's ki signature and... teleport to it. Instantly."
Goku's breath caught.
"Teleport."
"Yes. Across any distance, as long as we can sense the destination."
"Any distance?"
"Any distance."
Goku sat back, mind reeling.
*Teleportation. Actual teleportation. This little creature can cross space itself in the blink of an eye.*
"Then why don't you just run away?" The question was genuine. "With a technique like that, you're practically impossible to catch."
Soba's antenna drooped.
"I... can't."
"Why not?"
Silence.
Then, quietly: "I am the first in line for the throne of Yardrat. The prince."
Goku stared at him.
"When the Saiyans came, when Frieza's army conquered our world, they demanded a hostage. My father, the king. They said if we refused, they would erase our entire population."
Soba's small hands clenched.
"I made a deal. They could take me instead. A prince for a king." He laughed bitterly. "They found it amusing. A volunteer. So here I am."
"And if you escape?"
"They'll destroy my people."
Goku looked at this tiny pink alien, this prince who had traded his freedom for his civilization, who endured daily humiliation to keep his world alive.
*Brave little man.*
Three figures approached the bars.
Fasha pressed herself against the steel, practically vibrating with anticipation. Her nose twitched, catching the scents within.
"Ahhh, that perfume..." She inhaled deeply. "I can't wait for tonight!"
Toma stood beside her, more reserved but equally curious. Bardock hung back, arms crossed, expression bored.
Inside the facility, heads turned.
Gorbu rose immediately, straightening his posture, squaring his massive shoulders. He approached the bars with practiced grace, showcasing his physique like merchandise.
"Well, hello there, strong Saiyan." His voice dropped to a seductive purr. "Conquered some planets lately? You must be so tense. I could help you relax-"
"Move your fat ass."
Fasha didn't even look at him.
"Where's the new one?"
Gorbu's face contorted with rage. His fists clenched. But he knew better than to challenge a Saiyan, even through bars.
"The... new one?"
"The Saiyanoid! Where is he?"
Every male in the facility turned to look at one spot.
Goku.
Still sitting. Still calm. Still amused by the absurdity of his situation.
"Oh." smirk. "You mean me?"
He rose slowly.
What remained of his shirt, tattered, useless, he tore away completely. Used the fabric to wipe the dried blood and dirt from his skin.
Beneath: bronze muscle, sharp definition, scars that spoke of battles survived.
Soba's eyes widened.
He saw it.
The tail.
Brown fur, swaying lazily behind Goku's back, *a Saiyan tail*.
Before anyone else could notice, Soba moved.
Two fingers to his forehead.
Flash.
He appeared behind Goku, grabbed the tail, and shoved it down the back of his pants in one smooth motion.
Flash.
Back to his original position.
No one saw.
Except Goku.
He glanced back at the little Yardratian, understanding flickering in his eyes. Right. The tail. Evidence of what he really was.
He winked.
Then he turned back to the bars.
"Yes, I'm the new one." He stretched, deliberately, theatrically, letting every muscle flex and shift. "See something you like?"
Fasha was openly drooling.
"Get. Over. Here."
Goku approached.
Slow. Confident. Each step deliberate.
As he walked, his tail shifted inside his pants, adjusting, repositioning. By the time he reached the bars, it had settled along his inner thigh, creating a thick, prominent ridge that strained against the fabric.
Fasha's eyes dropped.
Locked on.
Her jaw went slack.
"Oh my..."
Toma leaned in for a better look.
"That's... that's impressive."
"Impressive!? It's magnificent!"
Goku leaned against the cold bars, arms folded, the picture of casual confidence.
"Hello, fierce warrior." His voice dropped low. Playful. "You wanted to see me clos+"
He stopped.
His eyes had drifted past Fasha. Past Toma.
To the figure standing behind them.
Arms crossed. Scar on her cheek. Wild spiky hair. Cold, disinterested expression.
*That face.*
*That exact face.*
His mind flashed to Earth.
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
A whisper. Almost silent.
"Kakarot...?"
Bardock's eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?"