Time remaining until the Saiyans' arrival on Earth: 5 months.
Planet of King Kai.
The air was dense.
The sky, an eternal yellow, seemed motionless. A constant silence wrapped everything, broken only by the sound of strong, rapid footsteps pounding against the perfect green grass of the tiny planet.
Goku was running.
His boots slid and struck the ground hard, kicking up dirt with every step as if each one carried tons of restrained energy.
"Gaaahhh! I almost got you, Bubbles!" he shouted, panting, eyes locked on the brown figure sprinting ahead of him.
Bubbles —King Kai's quick and playful monkey— darted in zigzags with natural grace, his long arms propelling him like an acrobat through the air. Though he looked like a simple monkey, under the gravity of this planet, he was a formidable opponent.
Goku had spent weeks chasing him.
His body now moved smoothly under the pressure of ten times Earth's gravity, but Bubbles... always found a way to slip away.
Meanwhile, King Kai sat floating in his chair, sipping a cup of galactic tea and enjoying the show with a mischievous grin.
"Hmmhmm... almost, almost... but not quite. Come on, Goku! That monkey's got more reflexes than a mirror in a lightning storm!"
Goku gritted his teeth, his brow furrowed with focus.
He'd learned to control his energy, to conserve his strength, to predict Bubbles' movements. But this time... he knew it was the moment.
Bubbles leapt toward the tree.
Goku lunged after him.
He twisted midair, his body tracing a perfect arc. His fist clenched... and just before the monkey could dodge as usual—
He closed his eyes for a second.
He felt the wind, the pulse of the ground, the energy around him.
And then—
He changed direction midair.
"NOW!"
With an explosive yell, Goku rocketed forward, arms outstretched, and caught Bubbles around the waist.
"GOTCHA!"
Bubbles let out a startled squeal.
Both rolled across the grass, raising a small cloud of dust. Goku ended up on top, gasping, arms locked tightly around the monkey, who squirmed but couldn't break free.
King Kai stood, wide-eyed.
"What in the world…?"
Goku, still out of breath, lifted his head with a giant grin.
"Heh… ha ha! I finally caught him!"
Bubbles made an indignant noise but accepted defeat. With a quick hop, he freed himself and sulked under the tree.
King Kai floated down toward Goku, arms crossed.
"Well, well… didn't think you'd manage that so soon."
"Huh? So soon?"
"Yes." He nodded. "Most folks take… oh, seven or eight centuries or so! Ha ha ha!"
Goku flopped back, scratching his head.
"Ah… then I guess I got lucky…"
King Kai studied him closely.
For a moment, his expression shifted. It became more solemn. Heavier. As if the laughter had been carried off by the wind.
"It wasn't luck, Goku," he said quietly. "It was spirit. Determination. Hunger to grow stronger."
"Very few mortals truly understand what it means to adapt to this gravity. But you… you didn't just endure it. You made it your ally."
Goku sat up, now serious.
"So… does that mean I can start my training?"
King Kai smiled, softer this time.
"Yes. Now you're ready to learn two techniques—ones that could save your planet… or destroy it if used by the wrong hands."
Goku swallowed hard.
"What are they called?"
King Kai raised his hand.
The air around him shifted.
The energy grew dense—almost electric.
"The first… is the Kaio-ken."
"A technique that amplifies your power, multiplying it for brief moments. But… at a cost."
"A cost?"
King Kai nodded.
"The Kaio-ken pushes your body—your muscles, your bones… even your soul. Use it wrong, and it'll tear you apart from the inside. But used wisely… it can make you a rival even to gods."
Goku was speechless.
"And… the second?"
King Kai turned slowly. He raised both arms. The sky of the planet seemed to shrink upon itself, and a heavy pressure descended like a wave.
"The second… is the Spirit Bomb."
"A technique that gathers energy from all living beings nearby… and focuses it into a single sphere of absolute power."
"It's borrowed energy. It doesn't belong to you. But you can use it to protect what you love—if your heart is pure."
Goku listened in silence. His eyes fixed on the sky. His breathing slow.
"Can I learn them… in five months?"
King Kai tilted his head.
"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. That depends on you."
"On me?"
"Yes."
King Kai floated toward the tree again.
"I won't train you like a normal master. I won't give you orders. I won't control you. I'll only show you the path. You… must decide how much you're willing to sacrifice."
Goku clenched his fists. His heart pounded.
"I'm ready."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Willing to break your body a hundred times if you must?"
"Yes."
King Kai smiled.
"Willing to carry the power of millions… without losing yourself?"
Goku closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice didn't tremble.
"Yes."
Then King Kai extended his hand.
A small sphere of energy floated above his palm. It was small, trembling… but it shone with a unique brilliance.
"Very well, Son Goku."
"Let the real training begin."
⸻
At the Same Time — On Earth
A vast field stretched to the horizon.
The sky was clear, except for a few passing clouds casting soft shadows over the tall grass. The eastern breeze stirred the meadow like an emerald sea, and between the rolling hills, a small figure ran—panting, drenched in sweat.
Son Gohan.
His clothes were torn and dirty from training. His boots were barely holding together, and the cap he once wore had been lost somewhere the week before. But his eyes…
They were steady.
Brows furrowed. Breathing controlled. His small body moved with intent, his ki vibrating with a strength that hadn't existed months ago.
In front of him, floating a meter above the ground, arms crossed and brow severe, Piccolo watched him in silence.
They had been training since sunrise.
And the boy hadn't stopped once.
"HAAAAAAHH!" Gohan shouted, charging forward.
His feet struck the ground, creating a small burst of dust. He lunged upward in a quick leap, throwing a punch straight toward the Namekian's face.
WHACK!
Piccolo blocked it effortlessly.
"Again," he said flatly.
Gohan gritted his teeth. He spun and kicked with force.
BAM!
Piccolo raised his arm. Blocked.
"Again."
Gohan stumbled back, gasping.
His face was drenched in sweat, muscles trembling. The sun beat hard on his back, but he didn't stop.
He lunged again. A barrage of strikes—fists, elbows, knees. Small flickers of ki flared with every hit.
Piccolo dodged them all.
Barely moving. Just leaning, half-stepping, tilting his head.
Gohan roared in frustration.
"HAAAH! HAAAH! STOP BLOCKING ME!"
BOOM! BOOM! SWOOSH!
Each failed strike sent waves of air rippling around them.
Piccolo's expression didn't change.
"If you shout that much, your ki becomes erratic."
"Shut uuuuup!" the boy yelled, launching a spinning kick.
Piccolo sidestepped.
Gohan fell to his knees, drained.
His breath was ragged. His hands ached. His throat burned. His pride stung.
But his eyes held no tears.
Not this time.
He stood.
"That's it?" Piccolo's voice was deep. "That's the best you can do after months of training? Your father would be disappointed by this display."
Gohan glared at him, face flushed and sweaty.
He didn't answer.
He just clenched his fists.
And screamed.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
The cry echoed across the hills.
His ki exploded.
An unseen wave shook the air around him. The ground trembled. Leaves rustled. Birds fled the trees.
Piccolo's eyes widened slightly.
Gohan's power… had spiked.
"RAAAAAAH!" the boy roared.
Then he charged.
Faster than before. Sharper. Every strike filled with purpose, rage, and will.
Piccolo blocked the first.
And the second.
And the third.
But the fourth—
Wasn't enough.
CRAAACK!
A clean punch.
Directly to Piccolo's left cheek.
The sound was crisp—like a hand slapping wet stone. Piccolo staggered half a step back, eyes open wide in surprise.
Silence.
The wind stopped for a heartbeat.
Gohan stood trembling, arm still extended. His legs shook. Scratches covered his arms. Blood on his lip. His body exhausted.
But his eyes shone like they'd touched the sun.
"I… I did it…" he whispered.
His voice trembled—not with fear, but with awe.
"Mr. Piccolo…" he said again, breaking into a pure, disarming smile. "I did it! I hit you!"
The wind blew again.
Piccolo stared at him.
He slowly touched his cheek.
The pain was minor.
But the impact… far greater.
For months, he'd blocked every strike effortlessly. For months, he'd been an unbreakable wall—not to humiliate, but to push, to see if the boy would shatter.
But he hadn't.
And now—
He'd finally reached him.
"Hmph," Piccolo grunted, turning away to hide the faint expression that crossed his face.
It wasn't quite a smile.
But it was close.
"Don't let your guard down," he said quietly. "That was only one hit."
Gohan dropped his arms, panting.
"I know… but…"
He closed his eyes for a second.
"It felt… amazing."
Piccolo didn't answer.
He simply floated into the air, back to the boy, gazing up at the blue sky.
"You're growing faster than I imagined…"
"Goku… your son is catching up to you."
And down on the hill, Son Gohan fell to his knees amid the wind-tossed grass.
Tired.
But not defeated.
For the first time—
He felt like a warrior.
—-—
Meanwhile — Mount Paoz
A humble house stood at the edge of a dense, cool forest. The songs of birds drifted softly through the tall branches, and a light breeze carried the scent of wood, moss, and memory.
Goku's house.
It stood quietly among the trees, as if unaware that its owner no longer lived there. Every corner seemed frozen in time. The floor creaked softly underfoot. Furniture lay covered with white cloths. The kitchen was untouched. And on the table… sat a photo.
Bulma was there.
Wearing a light blue jacket and work pants, she wiped sweat from her forehead as she watched a few workers haul out boxes and cleaning supplies.
"Don't forget to check the solar panels on the east side," she said tiredly but firmly. "Even if it's empty, I don't want this place falling apart."
One of the workers nodded and left through the back door. The others kept busy.
For a brief moment, Bulma was alone.
She sighed.
Then she walked over to the dining table, where the framed, dusty photo rested.
She lifted it carefully.
In it, Goku smiled with that carefree, radiant expression so uniquely his. He held baby Gohan in his arms, wrapped in a green blanket. And beside him, seated in a wooden chair, was a young woman—gentle but firm-eyed.
Chi-Chi.
Bulma swallowed hard.
"I never really got to know you," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone. "Honestly, I think I only saw you two or three times."
She sat down at the table, placing the photo before her.
"You were Goku's wife, and yet… you were always so far from our world of battles, Dragon Balls, and tournaments."
"I think… that's exactly what he loved about you. That's what made him keep that promise."
She rested her elbows on the table, hands folded under her chin.
"I've wondered many times what it must have been like for Goku to lose you. He never said it out loud. But it changed him."
Her eyes softened with a quiet sadness.
"Since that day… Goku was never the same."
Her gaze shifted to the baby Gohan in the photo.
"And that little one… your son…"
"He's out there training with Piccolo now… and I don't even know if he's okay."
Her voice grew fragile.
"I always worried that he'd be scared… that he'd cry at night…"
"He's just a child—and they left him with the scariest guy on the planet."
But then—she smiled faintly.
"Though, if there's something that eases my mind… it's that he has your blood, Goku."
She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head toward the ceiling.
"You've always been a bonehead… but even when you didn't understand anything—when you didn't even know what marriage meant—you always had that instinct."
"You probably never realized it, but when Chi-Chi died… you changed."
Her voice turned solemn.
"You stopped running just for fun. You stopped getting lost in your training. You learned to cook. To clean. To raise that baby all on your own."
"And all of that… without ever complaining."
A long silence followed.
Bulma sat motionless, eyes closed, listening to the song of a nearby bird. The scent of dust and old wood hung in the air.
"I guess… this is my way of helping, you know?" she murmured. "Coming here once in a while… keeping this place alive."
"I don't know when you'll come back, Goku. No one knows how death really works for someone like you."
"But when you do… I want you to have a clean home to return to."
Her fingers brushed the edge of the photo frame.
"And for Gohan, too."
She stood up.
"That boy will need this house someday—to remember, to rebuild."
"And who knows… maybe when it's all over, he'll fill it with laughter again."
From the back, one of the workers called from the door.
"Miss Bulma! We finished checking the systems! Should we head back to Capsule Corp?"
"Yes," she replied, carefully tucking the photo into her bag. "In a minute."
She took one last look at the house.
Gohan's bedroom window. The shelf lined with worn storybooks. A few old toys. A mug shaped like a dragon.
Every corner held a story.
Bulma lowered her gaze and whispered to herself:
"No matter how many times you fall, Goku…
You always find a way to come back stronger."
Then she stepped outside, the breeze nudging her gently down the path.
The house fell silent again.
But not empty.
Because the memories of Goku, Chi-Chi, and little Gohan still lived there.
And somehow… that energy lingered.
As if the home itself was waiting…
…for father and son to return.
⸻
Months Later — Kami's Temple
One month before the Saiyans' arrival.
The sun blazed high in a clear sky. At this altitude, the clouds floated beneath the temple, forming a living carpet, while the golden light of noon bathed the sacred spires in brilliance.
On the main platform, five figures trained with intensity.
Krillin, his bald head glistening with sweat, dodged a flurry of blows from Yamcha, while Tien fired blasts of ki toward reinforced stone columns. Chiaotzu floated nearby, controlling the weight of his own body as part of his gravity training. And off to the side, Yajirobe sat on a cushion, chewing on a strip of dried meat, looking utterly bored.
"I still don't get how you guys talked me into climbing all the way up here..." he mumbled through a full mouth. "I already fought once, remember? That should count for something!"
"Shut up and train, Yajirobe!" Krillin gasped, dodging a punch. "Kami's letting us train here, the least you can do is try!"
"Tch," the swordsman grunted. "All I heard was that some killer monkeys are coming, not that I had to do yoga with you bald guys and Yamcha."
Then—everything stopped.
All of them froze.
As if the very air had thickened in an instant.
The sky didn't darken, nor did thunder strike—yet something had changed.
Not in color.
In presence.
An energy... no—two energies—burst into the planet's awareness like the universe itself had exhaled in their direction.
"What... what is that...?" Krillin whispered.
He fell to his knees. His breath grew heavy, as if an invisible wall pressed down on him.
Tien remained standing, but his eyes widened in shock.
"They're massive! They're far away, but... I can feel them!"
Chiaotzu descended slowly, trembling.
"They've entered the solar system!"
Yamcha narrowed his eyes, a bead of sweat trailing down his cheek like ice.
"One of them... is so strong... it's like the whole sky is screaming."
Krillin clenched his fists.
"This can't be! They're still millions of kilometers away—and we can already sense them?!"
At that moment, a new voice joined them.
Mr. Popo, who had been watching quietly from the palace entrance, spoke in a low, calm tone:
"They have crossed the boundary of the star system. The universe no longer restrains them."
Yajirobe swallowed hard, dropping his piece of meat.
"Wh-what the hell are those things…?"
⸻
Meanwhile — Southern Region, Earth
A strange current of air swept through the rocky field where Piccolo and Gohan were training. The sky seemed to tremble. The grass rippled as if an unseen force descended from above.
Gohan stopped, panting, hands still raised in a fighting stance.
"M-Mr. Piccolo… what was that?"
Piccolo didn't answer immediately.
His eyes were closed, his face more severe than usual—as though he felt something deep within his soul.
Gohan's voice wavered.
"It's them, isn't it? The Saiyans?"
Piccolo nodded slowly.
"Yes…"
His voice was heavier than before—graver.
"Two ki… and one of them…"
He opened his eyes.
"That power makes Raditz's feel like a crushed fly on a wall."
The wind roared.
Gohan stepped back instinctively.
"I–it's a woman!" he said suddenly, clutching his chest. "I can feel it… it's like my body just knows!"
Piccolo tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing toward the sky.
"Yes…"
He crossed his arms, his cape whipping behind him like a banner in a storm.
"Her presence is clear. Unmistakable. Dominant."
"That power… it's alive. Fierce. Sovereign."
"It must be her," Piccolo growled. "The 'princess' Raditz spoke of."
Gohan frowned.
"Princess…?"
Piccolo nodded slowly.
"Raditz died saying he wasn't alone. That his princess would come with another warrior."
"And now… I can feel it."
He turned toward the horizon.
"They're still more than a month away… and I can already taste their power."
A pressure hung in the air—something that crushed the spirit.
"That level of strength… I've never felt anything like it before."
"And if that woman… is as strong as they say…"
He clenched his fists.
"…then the whole Earth is in danger."
⸻
Back at Kami's Temple
The warriors stood gathered before Kami.
"Are you sure…?" Yamcha asked quietly.
Kami closed his eyes.
"I've lived for centuries and sensed many threats—demons, corrupted humans, creatures born of chaos…"
He opened them again.
"But never… never a presence like this."
Krillin took a shaky breath.
"What do we do?"
Kami looked at each of them in turn.
"Train as if it were your last day."
"Because it just might be."
A heavy silence fell over the temple.
The sky gleamed peacefully, as though nothing had changed.
But they all knew—
There was no turning back now.
The countdown had begun.
And out in the deep of space…
Two metal pods streaked through the void.
And inside one of them, a warrior slept.
A princess.
Even in her dreams… her expression was one that did not forgive.
⸻
Meanwhile — Planet of King Kai
The sky here never changed. A deep, eternal blue—no sun, no stars. The gravity pressed down like a mountain upon the shoulders, giving no rest… unless King Kai allowed it.
And at that moment, he did.
Goku lay flat on his back on the planet's perfect green grass, gasping, drenched in sweat—though technically, he was dead.
His chest rose and fell hard, his orange gi wrinkled, his spiky hair sticking in every direction as usual.
"Haaa… haaa… I almost broke my bones with that last one!" he wheezed, laughing between coughs.
"You're getting close," said King Kai, sitting under his tree, nibbling on a rice ball covered in sauce. "You've managed to hold the Kaio-ken times two without ripping your body apart. That's more than most living beings ever manage—and you're dead!"
Goku sat up and slumped down beside the tree. He grabbed a tray of food—provided, as always, by King Kai with a resigned sigh—and began devouring it.
"Thanks for the food, King Kai! It's delicious!"
"Chew, Goku! Even dead, you can choke if you eat like that!"
Bubbles let out a playful screech, imitating Goku as he munched on a piece of fruit.
Goku swallowed with a satisfied grin.
"So... if I increase the internal pressure without losing control, I can multiply my strength safely?"
"Exactly. But the higher you go, the greater the danger." King Kai's tone turned serious. "The Kaio-ken isn't just a technique—it's a bomb inside your own body."
"You can handle times two now. Maybe times three..."
"But beyond that—you'll snap like a dry twig."
Goku nodded, staring at the planet's curved horizon for a long moment. The warm, strange wind blew steadily around them.
"King Kai... can I ask you something?"
"Oh? You're curious now, are you?"
"Heh, no, really. I want to know more about the Saiyans."
King Kai raised an eyebrow.
"And why would you want to remember that pack of thick-headed brutes?"
Goku shrugged.
"I dunno... I know I'm one of them, but I don't remember anything. I don't know what they ate, what they were like... or how they lived."
"And now that I'm gonna fight two more of them... I wanna understand."
King Kai sighed deeply.
"Hmph. Fine. But don't be surprised if you don't like what you hear."
⸻
The Story of the Saiyans
"The Saiyans," King Kai began, adjusting his tiny glasses and taking on a grave tone, "were a warrior race. Fierce. Brutal. Powerful. From birth, they were raised to fight."
"They measured their worth by the battles they won, by the planets they conquered, by how many enemies they could destroy before losing a limb."
Goku swallowed hard.
"Were they all like that…?"
"Almost all," said King Kai. "There were exceptions, but very few. They lived by a strict hierarchy based on power levels from infancy. Those born with low battle power were sent to weak planets to conquer them alone."
Goku frowned.
"Like me?"
"Exactly," King Kai nodded. "You were a low-class warrior. Practically disposable."
"But you survived. And being raised by humans… changed you."
"And their tails?" Goku asked. "I had mine until it got pulled off."
"The tail was a source of power for Saiyans. It allowed them to transform under the full moon into Oozaru—the Great Ape."
"But it was also their weakness. Grab their tail, and they'd freeze—at least the untrained ones."
Goku fell silent.
Great Ape… that sounds familiar… Could it be connected… to the monster that killed Grandpa Gohan?
Before he could dwell on it, King Kai went on.
"They were famous for their ferocity and their ability to grow stronger after recovering from injuries. A race born for war. No compassion. No attachment. Just evolution through battle."
Goku looked down for a moment.
"What happened to them?"
King Kai paused.
"Officially… Planet Vegeta was destroyed by a meteor."
"'Officially?'" Goku repeated, sensing something off.
"Yes. That's what the Freeza Empire claims."
"Freeza?"
King Kai grimaced.
"An entity you're not ready to face—or even fully understand. Let's just say… he's no friend to anyone. And he had much to gain from the Saiyans' destruction."
Goku's expression hardened.
"Did… anyone else survive?"
King Kai nodded slowly.
"With what I know… only four."
The air grew heavy.
"The first—you, Son Goku."
"The second—your brother, Raditz, now dead."
"The third—Nappa, a brutal colossus, bodyguard to the royal family."
"And the fourth…"
He hesitated for a moment, as if the name itself carried weight.
"The daughter of King Vegeta III."
"Princess Vegetta II."
Goku raised his eyebrows.
"So the princess's name is Vegetta?"
"Exactly," King Kai said gravely. "The last living female Saiyan."
"Since childhood, she was trained as heir to the throne—not just for her lineage, but for her strength, which surpassed that of most adult warriors when she was only six."
Goku's eyes widened.
"She was that strong?"
"And even more dangerous inside than out," King Kai added, his tone shadowed.
"Cold. Lethal. Sadistic. Intelligent."
"And obsessed… with the perfection of power."
Goku stayed silent.
The wind rustled softly. Bubbles stopped playing and sat near the tree, as if he too felt the weight of the tale.
King Kai squinted into the distance.
"If your brother was a storm… she's a collapsing star."
"A force that drags everything into her gravity."
"And if she's coming to Earth, it's not just to avenge her comrade. It'll be for curiosity. For challenge. For supremacy."
Goku looked down.
"She and I… we're from the same race."
King Kai studied him carefully.
"Perhaps. But heart… is another matter entirely."
Goku thought quietly for a moment.
"Then I guess I've got to do more than just get stronger."
"Yes," King Kai said, nodding. "You have to become unstoppable."
Goku stood, eyes sharp now, staring at the endless horizon of the small world.
"In that case…"
"I'm gonna master the Spirit Bomb too!"
King Kai raised his brows.
"Back to training already?"
Goku grinned.
"Of course! I can't let that princess beat us so easily, right?"
"Then stop eating all my food and get moving, you blockhead!"
Goku laughed and started running in circles again, his aura flaring crimson with the Kaio-ken's glow.
The training was far from over.
And in the heavens above—
The shadow of war drew ever closer.