(You know I just had a thought, Son is Goku's last name, with last name first then first name being common, so Goku is Goku Son if pronounced our way and not their way. I knew this before, but casually was thinking about how weird it is that people say Son Goku and not Goku Son in the English dub. This follows to Chi-Chi Son and Gohan Son, or Son Gohan and Son Chi-Chi, Yuzu Son or Son Yuzu which sounds better to you?)
—Third Person POV—
Chapter 3: First Contact and Rage
Hundreds of miles away from the comforting domesticity of Mount Paozu, the world was nothing but unforgiving rock, howling winds, and cracked earth. This desolate wasteland was the perfect crucible for a demon.
At its center stood Piccolo.
He wasn't just training; he was punishing himself. His heavy, white mantle and turban pulled at his muscles with crushing artificial gravity, but he ignored the strain. A guttural roar tore from his throat, echoing across the barren valleys as a violent, violet aura flared to life around him.
The sheer intensity of his rising Ki distorted the air, sending a shockwave outward that cracked the earth beneath his boots. With a final, agonizing scream of exertion, the pressure became too much for the environment—the sheer force of his energy shattered the adjacent mountain cliff, sending massive boulders tumbling into the abyss below.
Chest heaving, sweat pouring down his green skin and evaporating against his aura, Piccolo finally let the energy recede.
"Son Goku..." he murmured to himself, his voice a low, venomous rasp. He clenched his fists, the leather-like skin of his knuckles pulling taut. "Next time... next time I will defeat you. I will kill you for sure."
He was the reincarnation of the Demon King Piccolo. The embodiment of his father's final, hateful breath. He could not—would not—exist in a world where Son Goku still breathed.
But before the echo of his vow could fade, the air shifted.
Piccolo's antennae twitched. A faint disturbance in the wind. A shadow in the distance. He snapped his gaze forward, but instantly, the hairs on his arms stood on end. Another presence had materialized directly behind him.
He didn't even have time to turn. He was jumped.
Literally.
A third figure surged upward from the blind spot below his waist, burying a skull into Piccolo's gut with the force of a falling meteor. The air was driven from his lungs in a violent spray of saliva. Instinct took over; Piccolo flipped backward to recover, spinning around to unleash a counterattack, but he was instantly met with a brutal axe-kick to the shoulder from the second figure, sending him crashing back down into the dirt.
From there, it was a massacre.
The three figures launched a coordinated, relentless assault. They moved with terrifying precision and speed, disappearing and reappearing as nothing more than afterimages. Piccolo threw desperate, wild punches, but his weighted clothing—the very thing he used to push his limits—now anchored him. He was too slow. A fist cracked against his jaw, followed by a knee to his ribs, and then a sweeping kick that sent him spiraling through the air. He could do nothing but absorb the devastating impacts.
Finally, the flurry ceased. His three attackers leaped backward, putting distance between them.
Piccolo forced himself up onto one knee, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his breathing ragged. It was then that a fourth figure emerged from the shadows of the canyons. The newcomer did nothing, standing with his arms crossed, watching the battered Namekian with gleeful, cruel amusement.
"W-who..." Piccolo gasped, clutching his bruised chest. "Who are you?"
The leader didn't answer the question. His eyes narrowed with sadistic delight.
"Finish him!"
At their master's command, the three minions raised their hands. Energy gathered in their palms, illuminating the darkened canyon in harsh, neon lights—one red, one pink, and one sickly yellow. With a unified shout, they fired. The three beams spiraled around one another, merging into a massive, blinding torrent of destructive Ki.
Piccolo barely had time to raise his arms.
The combined blast slammed into him, a deafening explosion that swallowed his scream. He was launched backward like a ragdoll, smashing through the face of a mountain. Tons of rubble collapsed inward, burying the unconscious Namekian under a tomb of stone.
Far away, high above the clouds in the pristine silence of the Lookout, Kami's eyes snapped open.
A sudden, phantom agony tore through his chest. The Guardian of Earth collapsed to one knee, a hand gripping his robes tightly as he gasped for air. The connection he shared with his darker half was a curse, but right now, it was an alarm bell. Piccolo was greatly weakened. Humiliated. Crushed.
Kami's ancient mind raced, his face pale with dread. Was it Goku? Did Piccolo finally force his hand?
With trembling focus, he reached out his senses, sweeping the planet for the familiar, blindingly bright Ki of Son Goku. He found it almost instantly. It was pulsing warmly on Mount Paozu, completely undisturbed, miles and miles away from the desolate wasteland where his other half had just fallen.
Kami's eyes widened in horror, the implications settling over him like a suffocating blanket.
"No..." Kami murmured under his breath, his voice trembling in the empty air of the sanctuary. "It couldn't have been. It... it couldn't have been."
—Mount Paozu—
The afternoon sun baked the lush greenery of Mount Paozu, casting long, peaceful shadows over the Son family home. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the faint scent of pine and the savory aroma of whatever Chi-Chi was preparing for dinner.
Outside, the Ox-King let out a booming laugh, tossing a four-year-old Gohan high into the air. The boy giggled, the four-star Dragon Ball gleaming atop his little red hat as he plummeted back into his grandfather's massive, waiting arms.
Inside, Chi-Chi wiped her hands on her apron, a small, content smile on her face. Goku and Yuzu were off gathering supplies, meaning the house was quiet for once. No energy blasts shaking the foundation. No craters being blown into her garden. Just a normal, quiet afternoon.
Then, the sky darkened.
It wasn't a cloud. It was an oppressive, suffocating malice that slammed into the mountain like a physical weight.
Chi-Chi's breath hitched. Thanks to her recent training with Goku, her senses were sharper than they had ever been. She didn't just feel the sudden shift in the air; she felt the localized, jagged spikes of three distinct, malevolent Ki signatures descending rapidly on her front yard.
"Gohan!"
Before she even consciously registered the threat, Chi-Chi was moving. The apron was discarded in a blur of motion as she kicked open the front door, her eyes adjusting instantly to the blinding sunlight.
She was just in time to see the Ox-King fall.
A hulking, grey-skinned monster with a mop of unruly hair—Sansho—had simply materialized behind the giant man. With a cruel sneer, Sansho delivered a brutal, axe-handle strike to the back of the Ox-King's neck. The massive warrior didn't even have time to grunt before his eyes rolled back, his enormous frame crashing into the dirt with an earth-shaking thud. Gohan tumbled from his grasp, hitting the grass hard.
"Grandpa!" Gohan cried out, scrambling backward.
"Well, well, well," a high-pitched, grating voice sneered. A short, green-skinned demon with tufts of red hair—Ginger—stepped forward, drawing twin scimitars from his back. Beside him, the blue-skinned Nicky chuckled, tossing an apple he had snatched from a nearby tree. "Looks like the big guy was all bluster. Grab the kid and the hat, let's get out of here."
"Step away from my son."
The three demons paused, turning their gaze toward the porch.
Chi-Chi stood at the top of the steps. She wasn't trembling. She wasn't screaming for Goku. Her stance was wide, rooted deep into the wood of the porch, her hands relaxed but ready. Her dark eyes were cold, calculating the distance, the wind, and the undeniable fact that these three monsters were individually weaker than her, but dangerous as a pack.
"Oh? The mommy wants to play?" Nicky mocked, his blue tail swishing behind him. "Listen, lady, we just want the Dragon Ball. Hand it over, and maybe we won't—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Chi-Chi vanished.
The wood of the porch splintered backward from the sheer force of her launch. She crossed the thirty-foot distance in a fraction of a second. Nicky's eyes widened, his arrogant smirk still frozen on his face as Chi-Chi reappeared directly inside his guard.
Her hips twisted, channeling the kinetic energy from her legs, through her core, and into her right fist. She struck Nicky squarely in the solar plexus.
The sound was like a cannon going off.
Nicky's eyes bugged out of his head, saliva spraying from his mouth as his feet left the ground. Chi-Chi didn't stop. She grabbed the demon by the collar of his tunic, pulled his airborne body back toward her, and delivered a devastating knee strike to his face. Bone crunched, and Nicky was sent rocketing backward, crashing through three thick oak trees before coming to a halt in a crumpled heap.
"Nicky!" Ginger yelled, his scimitars flashing as he lunged forward, slashing in an X-pattern.
Chi-Chi ducked the first blade, parried the second with her forearm, and swept Ginger's legs out from under him. As he fell, she pivoted on her heel, aiming a crushing heel-kick at his chest.
But Sansho was there. The massive grey demon caught her leg, his boots digging trenches into the dirt from the impact.
"You're tougher than you look, human!" Sansho roared, swinging her by the leg like a ragdoll.
Chi-Chi gritted her teeth, using the momentum of the swing to twist her body in mid-air. She planted her free foot squarely on Sansho's face, forcing him to let go. She flipped backward, landing gracefully between the demons and her terrified son.
"Gohan!" she barked, not taking her eyes off the recovering enemies. "Run to the house! Hide!"
"B-but Mom!" Gohan stammered, tears pricking his eyes as he looked at his unconscious grandfather.
"Do it!"
Sansho cracked his knuckles, rolling his massive shoulders. Ginger scrambled to his feet, spitting a glob of purple blood onto the grass. Nicky was pulling himself out of the tree line, his face bruised and furious.
"Kill her," Ginger hissed. "No more playing around."
The three demons blurred into motion. They attacked simultaneously, a coordinated assault of blades, fists, and dark energy.
Chi-Chi was a whirlwind. She deflected a sword strike from Ginger with the back of her hand, ducked a sweeping clothesline from Sansho, and leaned back to avoid a blast of dark Ki from Nicky.
Her movements were fluid, devoid of wasted energy.
She caught Ginger's wrist, twisted it until he howled in pain, and used his body as a shield to block a massive punch from Sansho.
'They're fast,' Chi-Chi thought, her breathing remaining steady even as the onslaught intensified. 'But their technique is sloppy. They rely on brute force and numbers.'
She threw Ginger into Nicky, tangling them up for a precious second. She immediately turned her full attention to Sansho.
"You hit my father," Chi-Chi growled, her aura flaring a brilliant, translucent white.
She stepped inside his reach, unleashing a blinding flurry of strikes. Palm heel to the ribs, elbow to the jaw, a rapid succession of punches to the midsection that sounded like a drumroll. Sansho gasped, unable to defend against the sheer speed and precision of her attacks.
Chi-Chi finished the combo with a spinning back kick that caught the giant demon flush on the chin, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing into the dirt.
Sansho didn't get up. One down.
"You bitch!" Nicky screamed. He extended his hand from his leg, a glowing orb of dark pink Ki forming in his palm. Ginger did the same, his energy glowing a sickly green.
Chi-Chi's eyes widened. She recognized the build-up. If they fired those blasts toward the house, Gohan would be caught in the crossfire.
She dropped into a low, wide stance and cupped her hands.
"Ka…me…" Chi-Chi chanted as she drew her hands to her side. "...ha…me…" A sphere of pure, blue energy sparked into existence between Chi-Chi's palms.
Behind her, hidden behind the broken porch, Gohan watched. His tiny hands were balled into fists. His mother was fighting. His grandfather was hurt. His father and sister weren't here. And what was he doing? Nothing.
He had been training too… he could fight too, right?
Yuzu was stronger than him. He was well aware of that. She had been more motivated, more into training than him, but right now…
Gohan stepped out from behind the porch dropping into a wobbly mimicry of his mothers stance. He cupped his tiny hands at his side. A tiny, flickering spark of blue light ignited in his palms.
Chi-Chi felt the sudden but small spike of energy behind her 'Gohan?'
"Die!" Ginger and Nicky roared, firing their combined blasts. The twin beams of dark energy spiraled together, tearing up the earth as they sped toward her which immediately drew her attention back.
"HA!" Chi-Chi thrust her hands forward.
A compact, roaring beam of blue energy erupted from Chi-Chi's hands, but it wasn't alone. Passing by her head, Gohan's beam intertwined, empowering it.
His was far smaller and weaker, yet the Dual Kamehameha tore across the yard, colliding with the demons' combined attack in a blinding flash of light and sound.
However it wasn't enough. The Demons' attack pushed the Kamehameha back towards Chi-Chi and soon…
BOOM!
Chi-Chi laid on the ground, out cold.
Nicky grabbed Gohan by the back of his shirt, lifting the struggling four-year-old off the ground.
"Got what we came for," Nicky grunted, ignoring Gohan's kicks.
With one swift motion, Nicky struck Gohan in the back of the neck, rendering the boy unconscious.
The three demons took to the sky, clutching their prize whilst kidnapping the boy leaving the battered bodies of the Son family in the ruined yard.
—Yuzu's POV: Minutes before Chi-Chi is knocked out—
"Kikō Yōyō," I stated calmly.
Twin disks of silver energy formed in my palm, each about the size of a small coin. Between them stretched a thin strand of Ki—tightly condensed, nearly invisible unless the light caught it just right. The strand connected the disks through a small knot-like loop, completing the shape.
It looked simple.
It wasn't.
A normal yo-yo was one of the simplest mechanical systems imaginable. Two disks connected by an axle with a string wrapped around it. You threw it downward, gravity and angular momentum unwound the string, and the rotational energy kept the yo-yo spinning until you tugged the string and pulled it back.
The trick was that Ki didn't naturally behave like that.
Energy blasts in this world followed a basic rule: once fired, they traveled in a straight line until they dispersed or exploded. Momentum moved forward. Always forward.
What I was doing violated that rule.
I rotated one of the disks slowly, letting the strand of Ki twist slightly between them.
A real yo-yo worked because of angular momentum—the conservation of rotational motion. When the yo-yo spun, the rotation stabilized it, allowing it to stay balanced at the end of the string.
My technique copied that principle.
The two disks weren't just decorations. They were rotational anchors—points where I condensed Ki and forced it into a controlled spin. When the disks rotated in opposite directions, they stabilized the strand between them, keeping it from unraveling.
That strand was the real weapon.
Normally Ki dispersed quickly when stretched thin. Energy preferred density. Compress it and it became stable. Spread it out and it collapsed.
So the string wasn't just a strand.
It was a constant loop of circulating Ki, flowing from one disk to the other and back again. Think of it like a closed circuit.
Energy moved from disk A → through the strand → into disk B → then returned through the same channel.
A perfect loop which meant I could control it.
I flicked my wrist.
The yo-yo spun downward, the strand uncoiling as the disks accelerated. The motion looked exactly like the toy it was modeled after, except the "string" hummed with enough energy to slice through steel.
When the disks reached the end of their arc, I tugged lightly.
The Ki flowed back along the strand, the rotational force pulling the construct back into my palm.
Exactly like a real yo-yo returning to its user except this one could cut a mountain in half.
The mathematics behind it wasn't complicated either.
Angular momentum followed a simple relationship: L = Iω
Where L was angular momentum, I was rotational inertia, and ω was angular velocity. In normal physics, those variables described physical mass.
With Ki, the mass was replaced by energy density; the denser the Ki in the disks, the greater the rotational stability. The faster they spun, the more stable the structure became.
Which meant the entire technique depended on one thing.
Control.
Lose control of the Ki flow, and the loop collapsed.
Maintain the circulation, and the yo-yo became a stable energy construct that could change direction, bind targets, or strike repeatedly without dispersing.
A whip of Ki would have worked too of course. However, I had just turned 4 today thus a technique based on playing around felt oddly fitting. The simple name made it even better.
Kikō Yōyō: Ki Technique: Yo-Yo.
Nothing fancy, just what it was. A technique which makes a Yo-Yo of energy.
Okay maybe it had something to do with my past life too… After all, I could never enjoy the simple things under her watchful eyes.
I stopped that train of thought as I looked at dad.
"Dad, are you done collecting the herbs and apples?" I asked him.
The entire reason why we were here was because mom asked us to collect things for lunch.
Dad was halfway up an apple tree, hanging upside down by his knees while simultaneously reaching for three different apples.
"Almost!" he called down cheerfully, dropping a massive armful of red fruit into the woven basket on the ground. It was already overflowing. "You sure you don't wanna try one, Yuzu? They're super sweet this year!"
I caught the yo-yo of Ki back in my hand, letting it dissipate with a soft hiss. "I'm good, Dad. Besides, Mom said she needed exactly twenty apples for the pies for the birthday celebration. You've picked forty."
Goku dropped from the branch, landing silently on the grass with a sheepish grin. "Well, yeah, but you know how fast we eat. Twenty apples is like... an appetizer."
I sighed, shaking my head. "If you eat that much, Mom's going to make you plant your own orchard just so she doesn't have to send us out here every day."
Dad paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "A farm, huh? You know, that's not a bad idea. I could probably grow a ton of stuff! Think about how much food we'd have right outside the door!"
I suppressed a smile. Step one complete. Pushing him toward the radish-farming life he'd adopt later on would definitely keep Mom happier in the long run. He wanted to be a good husband, he just needed the ideas planted in his head. Literally, in this case.
"Maybe you should pitch that to Mom," I suggested lightly. "She'd probably love not having to budget for your grocery bills."
"I'll ask her when we get—"
Dad and I both stopped.
His grin vanished. His posture shifted instantly from relaxed to rigid, his head snapping in the direction of our house. I was trying to keep calm, but internally I felt wrong.
The sudden, chaotic eruption of Ki miles away. One was familiar, bright, and fierce—Mom. The other was a tiny, brilliant spark that flared to life like a dying star before sputtering out—Gohan.
And surrounding them both were three jagged, ugly signatures that felt like rotting meat.
"Mom," I breathed, the basket of apples forgotten at my feet.
'It couldn't have been, right?' I thought hopefully, but I shook my head. The implication made it clear.
"Hold onto me," Dad said. His voice was completely devoid of its usual warmth. It was flat. Cold.
I didn't hesitate. I leaped onto his back, wrapping my arms tight around his neck. The air around us exploded outward in a shockwave of displaced pressure as dad launched us into the sky.
We didn't fly; we tore through the atmosphere. The trees below blurred into a solid streak of green, the wind screaming past my ears my senses remained locked onto the fading energies back home.
No. No, no, no.
My blood ran cold, and then it began to boil.
The timeline. I knew exactly what this was.
Dead Zone.
I had told myself I was prepared. I had mapped out everything but reality was different than that. Reality held the burning furnace of my heart.
They were hurting my family.
They were hurting my family.
THEY WERE HURTING MY FAMILY!
A low, vibrating hum began in my chest as those words repeated. I reined it in… for now.
Dad slammed into the ground in front of our house, the impact cracking the earth and sending dirt flying.
I dropped from his back before the dust even settled.
The yard was a warzone. The porch was splintered into kindling. Craters scarred the earth, the grass scorched black by energy blasts.
And there, lying motionless near the ruined steps, was Mom.
"Chi-Chi!" Dad yelled, rushing to her side. He dropped to his knees, his hands hovering over her bruised and battered form before gently lifting her head. "Chi-Chi, wake up! Hey!"
I stood frozen. My eyes locked onto her body. Not dead, but she had been blown up. I looked past her to the massive, unconscious form of Grandpa Ox-King.
Nothing.
"Where's Gohan?" Dad asked, his voice trembling as he looked up at me.
"They took him."
"What?" Dad laid Mom back down gently, his face darkening.
"They took Gohan, dad." I turned my head to face the south.
The simmering anger in my chest flared into an inferno. The air around me distorted a silver aura flickering to life and expanding rapidly. The ground beneath me cracked. Small rocks defied gravity, floating upward into my energy field before disintegrating into dust.
"Yuzu," Dad started, standing up, his eyes widening as he felt the sheer density of the power pouring out of me.
"They're after the Dragon Balls. Gohan has the four-star ball on his hat." I stated.
Dad didn't question how I knew. The look on my face must have been enough. He even suspected the same thing himself.
"Bulma's in West City," he said tightly, his own aura beginning to flare, a brilliant white light that mirrored my own fury of silver.
"Let's go."
—30 minutes later—
The flight to Capsule Corp where Bulma was had been a blur. Bulma had handed over the radar barely getting a word out before dad and I were back in the air, tearing a hole through the sky toward the southern islands.
The radar beeped steadily in my hand. 6 dots were clustered together. The 7th was moving directly toward them.
My knuckles turned white around the device.
My Ki was rising higher and higher.
They put their hands on my mother. They took my twin brother.
They were going to die for that.
I accelerated leaving dad behind in a sonic boom, my small body cutting through the air like a silver bullet. The massive wooden doors of the fortress grew closer by the second. I didn't slow down. I didn't brace for impact.
I channeled my Ki outside my body, coating it in an aura of purple and silver before I flew right through the doors, the reinforced steel exploded into shrapnel, a massive shockwave ripping through the courtyard. However the air pressure of my aura acted as a barrier which stopped the shrapnel before it reached me.
At the far end of the hall, standing around a glowing, crystalline pedestal, were the three demons who had been at my house. Ginger, Nicky, and Sansho.
And hovering above them, bathed in the light of the seven Dragon Balls, was a short, turquoise-skinned figure in white robes.
Garlic Jr.
He had his arms raised, his mouth open to chant the ritual.
"Eternal—"
"Die."
I cut him off. The word wasn't just stated. It was a command, vibrating with a lethal, icy calm that cut straight through the heavy atmosphere of the room.
The three minions spun around, their eyes widening at the sight of me.
"What the—it's just a kid!" Ginger snarled, drawing his scimitars. "How did she get past the—"
I raised my right hand, palm flat. I didn't bother cupping my hands. I didn't bother with a chant. I simply pulled from the absolute, unbridled fury screaming inside me and forced it down a single, compressed channel.
A beam of blinding, white Ki erupted forwards.
It crossed the distance of the hall in less than a microsecond.
It struck Sansho first, piercing cleanly through his chest. The giant demon didn't even have time to register the pain before the beam refracted. The first branch caught Nicky in the throat, vaporizing his head instantly. The second hit Ginger dead center, shattering his scimitars and engulfing his entire upper body.
The residual energy from the blast continued past them, blowing a massive, smoking hole through the reinforced rear wall of the fortress.
The three demons dropped to the floor in synchronized, wet thuds.
Garlic Jr. froze, his arms still raised, his eyes darting from the smoking corpses of his elite guard to the tiny, four-year-old girl floating across the room.
Silence stretched over the ruined hall, broken only by the crackle of localized lightning sparking off my aura.
I lowered my hand, my black eyes locked onto the blue-skinned immortal-wannabe.
"Where is my brother?" I asked. The air pressure in the room dropped significantly, the remaining braziers extinguishing completely.
Garlic Jr. blinked, shock briefly giving way to a sneer. "Your brother? You mean the brat with the hat? He's locked in the dungeon. But you won't live long enough to—"
I didn't let him finish.
I vanished.
Garlic Jr.'s eyes widened as I reappeared directly in front of his face. Before he could react, I drove my fist into his stomach.
The impact sounded like a cannon firing underwater. Garlic Jr.'s eyes bulged, saliva flying from his mouth as his feet left the ground
I grabbed the collar of his robes, yanking him back down, and brought my knee up in a vicious strike that shattered his jaw.
He was sent rocketing backward, crashing through the pedestal. The seven Dragon Balls scattered across the floor, their golden glow rolling away into the shadows.
"My... my wish!" Garlic Jr. gurgled, spitting out a mouthful of purple blood and broken teeth as he scrambled out of the rubble. He looked at the scattered orbs, then back at me, his eyes burning with a sudden, hateful realization. "You... you ruined my wish!"
"You ruined my front yard," I replied coldly.
I held out my hand, aiming directly at the four-star ball rolling near his feet. Instead of a blast, a thin, near-invisible strand of Ki shot out—the string of the Kikō Yōyō. It wrapped around the Dragon Ball, adhering to its surface perfectly. With a sharp tug, I yanked it across the room and into my waiting hand then threw it up.
I didn't stop there. I fired the strand again and again, rapidly snatching the remaining six balls from the floor, throwing them at various lengths.
"No! Stop!" Garlic Jr. screamed, lunging forward, his hands crackling with dark red energy.
I didn't look at him. I simply tossed the last Dragon Ball into the air. All 7 met as I focused my Ki into my palm and unleashed a massive shockwave of energy outward. The force of the blast caught the Dragon Balls, launching them through a hole I had just made with that air blast scattering them into the dark, churning ocean miles away from the island.
Garlic Jr. stopped mid-lunge, staring at the empty space where the Dragon Balls had just been.
"You... you little rat. You threw them away. I was going to be immortal! I was going to rule this pathetic world!"
"You aren't going to rule anything," I said, my aura flaring higher, the silver light tinged with a violent violet. "You won't be alive to see those balls ever again."
Garlic Jr. threw his head back and let out a guttural, demonic roar. His small frame began to expand rapidly. Muscles tore through his white robes, his turquoise skin darkening as he grew taller, broader, and infinitely more monstrous. His Ki spiked, the oppressive, malicious energy suffocating the air in the room.
Giant Serpent Form.
"I will crush you!" Garlic Jr. bellowed, his voice now a deep, resonant thunder. He charged, the stone floor shattering beneath his massive feet.
He threw a punch aimed squarely at my head.
It was faster than what I am used to seeing but like this…
I raised my left hand catching the massive fist in my palm. The impact created a shockwave that cracked the walls around us, but I didn't move an inch.
…It was easy to block.
Garlic Jr.'s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
"Pathetic," I whispered, my voice frigid.
I dropped my hand and lunged upward, driving an uppercut into his chin with it that lifted his massive frame off the ground. While airborne, I spun, delivering a devastating spinning back kick to his ribs. He roared in pain, flying backward and crashing through a stone pillar.
I chased after him. Jab, cross, hook, knee to the stomach, elbow to the temple. I was dismantling him piece by piece. Every time my fist connected with his flesh, heat coiled in my chest, sharp and satisfying.
Hit. For Mom.
Hit. For Grandpa.
Hit. For taking Gohan.
I was pummeling a god-wannabe, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.
But then, my lungs burned.
My next punch was slower. The impact wasn't as deep. My aura flickered, the brilliant silver dimming slightly.
Shit.
The rage had pushed my power far beyond my normal limits but my body couldn't sustain that kind of output since it wasn't natural to me.
Garlic Jr. noticed.
Through the swelling of his eyes and the blood matting his turquoise skin, a jagged, hideous grin returned to his face.
"You're... done..." he wheezed, pushing himself out of the crater. His massive hand shot out, swiping at me.
I tried to dodge, but my legs felt like lead. His knuckles caught me in the side, sending me skidding across the stone floor. I coughed, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. The rage was still there, but the engine was stalling.
Soon, he launched himself at me. I go to block only to hear the sound of a bone cracking. I didn't let out a pained scream, in fact, I didn't even feel pain right now as I went to counter. But he caught my fist, twisting it in what might've been painful to a normal person. He pushed me back then his foot slammed into my ribs, a sickening crunch heard sending me flying back into the wall with a gasp.
"Now!" Garlic Jr. roared, his Ki swelling into a dark, crimson sphere between his palms. "Perish with this island!"
I couldn't move. I watched the energy gather, my mind screaming at my body to just move, but I was paralyzed by my own over-exertion.
Okay, so that was why I had a nagging feeling to end it. My own rage led me to wanting to make this man suffer…
I smiled as the air shifted. I knew he would arrive. He just hadn't caught up yet.
A blur of orange and blue bathed in white light slammed into the space between us.
"Get away from her!"
Goku was there. He didn't look like the cheerful dad who picked apples. He looked like the man who had brought down the Red Ribbon Army and executed King Piccolo.
Garlic Jr. didn't flinch. He sneered, thrusting the massive crimson orb forward. "Two for the price of one!"
Goku planted his feet, his own Ki flaring to its absolute limit to shield me. He didn't dodge. If he dodged, I was a smear on the wall. He took the full brunt of the demonic blast, his arms crossed in a bracing guard.
The explosion was deafening. The shockwave tore the roof off the hall, sending stone slabs spinning into the storm clouds above. When the smoke cleared, Dad was still standing, but his Gi was shredded, and blood was streaming down his forehead. He was breathing hard, his muscles trembling from the strain of stopping a point-blank execution.
"Yuzu..." he grunted, not turning around. "Go get Gohan. I'll handle this."
"No," I whispered.
Seeing him hurt—seeing the blood on the man who was supposed to be the strongest—did something to me. The exhaustion didn't vanish, but it crystallized with my cold, calculating rage.
I didn't need to be stronger than him. I just needed to control my anger and be precise. No… let's do that.
My Ki spiked slightly as I pushed myself up. My aura came back slowly as I gripped at the anger. Seeing my father hurt was enough to trigger the boost. This time, I controlled my emotions exactly.
"Dad," I said, my voice steady. "Let's do this together."
Goku glanced back, his eyes widening. He saw it—the way I was cupping my hands.
Garlic Jr. laughed, a wet, rattling sound. "You think a little light show will save you now? I am a King! I am—"
"Nothing." I responded. "A king without a kingdom is nothing."
Dad cupped his hands and in sync we started chanting.
"KA..."
A bright sapphire sphere formed.
"ME…"
The sphere glowed brighter.
"HA… ME..."
The floor beneath me disintegrated. The light between my hands was so bright it turned the shadows of the room into high-contrast daggers. I felt my hands being pushed apart by the high generation of Ki and how concentrated it was. I noted how dad's was doing the same.
"HA!!!!"
I thrust my hands forwards, the bulbous was 2x the size of a regular Kamehameha fired a massive beam from my palms forwards. It intertwined with dad's own ki blast.
Our Super Kamehameha tore through the air, traveling with such velocity that it bypassed Garlic Jr.'s desperate attempt to guard. It struck him dead center.
The beam carried him blasting through the rear of the fortress, through the cliffs, and out into the fiery red ocean where it detonated in a pillar of light that touched the clouds.
Garlic Jr. was gone. Vaporized down to the last atom.
The light from the blast lingered on the horizon for several seconds, a brilliant, fading scar against the dark sky. When the roar of the energy finally died away, the only sound left in the crumbling fortress was the heavy, rhythmic thud of the ocean waves against the cliffs below and the ragged sound of my own breathing.
I let my hands drop. The energy that fuelled me to ignore the fact that at least one of my bones were cracked dissipated. I felt light. I swayed on my feet. The stone floor felt like it was tilting, the ruins of the castle spinning in a slow, sickening carousel.
I felt a pair of large, calloused hands catch my shoulders just as my knees gave out. I looked up to see dad. He was a mess—his gi was scorched, and a fresh bruise where he'd tanked that blast for me—but his eyes were full of a relief so profound it was almost painful to look at.
"I've got you," he whispered. "It's over. He's gone."
I steadied myself soon after
"Let's go find Gohan."
"I'm right here!"
A small, high-pitched voice echoed from the far end of the hall. I turned my head just enough to see my brother running toward us. He was disheveled, his little red hat missing, but he was wide awake and unhurt. He skidded to a stop, his eyes darting from the smoking ruins to the blood on Dad, and finally to me.
He didn't say anything at first. He just lunged forward, throwing his arms around both of us, burying his face in Dad's shredded shirt.
For a long time, we just sat there among the rubble. The three of us. The "broken" family that had somehow held together.
As the adrenaline drained away I felt pain… pain that went all over my body. Yet I remained calm as the threat had been dealt with. And the knowledge I'd be in bed recovering soon was more than enough to make up for it.
"Let's go home," Dad said softly, lifting both of us—one in each arm—as if we weighed nothing at all. "We have to make sure your mom and grandpa are fine."
I closed my eyes as he took to the sky. The wind was cold now, but I didn't mind. I had a lot to think about. The movies were canon, the stakes were real, and my own rage was a double-edged sword I didn't yet know how to wield.
And one more thing… Garlic Junior in a Movie Pamphlet had a PL of 1450 in his Giant Form. Meaning I would have to employ Plan ZA over Plan A.
In other words, that was 26 out of 78 plans I threw in the bin.
Plans beyond Z were made with the idea that the movies might have been Canon and that dad wouldn't die and thus obtaining Kaio-Ken is impossible. Even if Pamphlet Power Levels were likely not reality, if it was close to 1000 as I suspected then father would not die.
Unless Raditz used Oozaru. And that was dangerous as no one on the planet would be able to handle that. Barring…
147 days until Raditz would arrive.
Ugh, don't think about it now. For now, rest up.
I better get a Zenkai after this. Wait, would mom even let me train as soon as I recover from this?
She'll tell me to stay in bed for two more days to make sure I've recovered. Oh well.
(A/N: Should I post current Power Levels in the comments? Because I plan to make a chapter for those before Raditz like the chapter before he shows up. Ah right, I might have a plan for something in the next chapter. Let's just say Yuzu's Zenkai is potent. Also to get a bit into the writing process, I use AI to help with the planning and it didn't let the idea go that Yuzu and Goku defeat Garlic JR together *It was always my plan to kill him off here*.)