Other World – Snake Way
November 3rd, 2:45 PM (Earth Time Approx.)
—
Snake Way had no visible end. It stretched across the golden horizon like an eternal tongue made of floating stone scales. On its surface, the air itself seemed to shimmer with the energy of another plane. There was no sky. No ground. Only a boundless golden abyss on both sides.
And in the middle of that sacred nothingness…
Goku ran.
At full speed.
His boots struck the curved blocks with a steady rhythm, like war drums announcing his return.
"Haaaah! Haaaah! Come on, come on, come on!" he panted between strides.
Sweat streamed down his face in crooked lines, but his eyes stayed fixed ahead. His gaze hardened. His brows drawn tight with focus. He had been running for hours—maybe days. He had lost track of time.
But he could feel it.
He knew it in his bones.
He was close.
"Gotta be… I dunno… maybe a quarter left!" he said aloud, as if speaking the words would make them true. "Yeah! That's it! Just a quarter left!"
Goku was never good at math. He never would be. But his instinct—that sixth sense trained beyond logic—told him the end was near.
That Earth was calling to him.
And… that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
—
For the past hour, that feeling in his chest hadn't stopped.
A knot—right below the sternum.
A tremor that didn't come from his legs… but from his soul.
"What's happening down there…?" he muttered under his breath.
He'd tried not to think about it. About the possibility that… some of them hadn't made it. But now, it was impossible to ignore.
His steps faltered for a second.
His body shuddered.
Something had just vanished.
A ki.
One he knew.
"…Tien…" he whispered, almost like an exhale.
Without thinking, he slowed down, his mind tracing the energies he'd been sensing since his revival. They weren't all there anymore. He could feel three… only three.
Piccolo.
Krillin.
Gohan.
And nothing else.
"No…" he said, coming to a sudden stop, his heels grinding against the stone path.
The aura around him pulsed violently, mirroring his confusion—his helplessness. His hands trembled. Not from exhaustion. From the truth he could no longer deny.
"Yamcha… Chiaotzu… Tien…"
He closed his eyes, teeth clenched.
"I'm sorry… I was too late."
An invisible breeze, born of no wind, brushed against his face. It was cold—not like the air of Earth's forests or snowy peaks. It was the chill of the void.
Of loss.
—
But then…
Something inside him ignited.
A spark. Small. Almost hidden.
A promise.
Chi-Chi.
Her voice echoed in his mind again—clear, distant, almost dreamlike:
"Protect him, Goku. Protect him no matter what."
Gohan was still alive.
And if he fell too… Goku could never forgive himself.
His son…
Goku opened his eyes. Pure fire burned in his gaze.
"I can't stop now!"
He looked ahead. Snake Way still stretched endlessly before him, but it no longer seemed infinite. He could feel it shortening, as if gravity itself screamed at him to move faster.
He clenched his fists.
Bent his legs.
And then, he decided.
"KAIOKEN!" he roared, his voice resolute—
and his aura erupted.
⸻
A crimson wave flared to life around his body—liquid fire made energy. His muscles tightened, and his speed doubled in the blink of an eye. Each stride was an explosion. The road trembled beneath his boots. The stones quivered, as if the very fabric of the Other World responded to his resolve.
Far ahead, the faint traces of ki began to sharpen.
Clearer.
Stronger.
More desperate.
"Hold on!" he roared as he ran, his voice swallowed by the storm of power. "I'm coming! Almost there!"
—
And while Kaioken multiplied his power, his body began to protest.
Veins bulged along his neck. Pressure built in his joints.
But he didn't slow down.
Not this time.
"Doesn't matter! Bet they've got some Senzu Beans ready by the time I show up!"
A tired, fleeting smile crossed his face.
"Master Korin probably saw this coming…"
Hope didn't come from his strength.
It came from them.
His friends.
His family.
The ones who were still standing.
—
Snake Way curved sharply, as if the universe itself wanted to test him one more time. But Goku didn't flinch. He launched himself into the bend like a missile—no hesitation, no thought. His hair whipped violently in the nonexistent wind of the ethereal space.
And then…
He felt it.
A ki.
Huge.
Cold.
Calculated.
An energy unlike any other.
"She…"
Vegeta.
Her ki pierced through him like a needle of ice.
It wasn't rage like Piccolo's or Tien's from the past.
It was pure calm.
Killing calm.
"So… she's shown herself," Goku muttered, jaw tightening.
Something strange stirred within him.
Not fear.
Not hate.
Anticipation.
For the first time in his life, he felt something more than the thrill of facing a strong rival.
He felt… uncertainty.
—
But he didn't stop.
He wouldn't stop.
The Kaioken burned brighter.
His crimson aura lit Snake Way like a shooting star. Every step brought him closer to his son, to his friends, to an Earth that might not be the same once he set foot on it again.
And still—
"Hold on!" he shouted into the void, as if commanding the distance itself. "Just a little longer!"
"I promised I'd protect him!"
"I promised I'd come back!"
The road curved once more.
And Goku… accelerated.
Because for a Saiyan like him…
A promise made to the dead…
was holier than any law in the universe.
—
A few minutes later
The silence within King Enma's Temple was unlike any silence on Earth.
Here, in the threshold between life and death, time didn't walk—it floated.
The souls in line made no sound. They drifted in spectral processions, guided by celestial oni like obedient shadows. Only the sighs of the Great Judge echoed within the vast chamber.
But today…
Enma was restless.
At his enormous desk, the fingers of his giant hand tapped against the Soul Pad like an invisible countdown. His massive body quivered slightly with every exhale. His mustache bristled with impatience. Beneath his furrowed brows, his eyes kept flicking toward the horizon of Snake Way.
"Come on… come on, kid… you should've been here by now…" he grumbled.
At his side, standing in the air atop a floating platform, Kami watched in silence.
There was no peace in his eyes.
His hands were clasped behind his back, his robes rippling softly in the subtle winds of the Other World—but his gaze burned with contained anxiety.
"I shouldn't interfere," he murmured. "I shouldn't… but if he takes a few minutes longer… if Goku doesn't make it in time…"
He looked down.
He felt it.
The deaths.
The absences.
Through his link to Earth, the Guardian knew exactly what had happened.
Yamcha.
Chiaotzu.
Tien.
Their names weighed on his mind like stones.
And though he had no tears… his soul trembled.
"It can't have been in vain," he whispered.
Then…
Something moved.
A line on the horizon.
A glimmer through the golden haze.
A heartbeat louder than the rest.
—
King Enma straightened up with a triumphant rumble.
"There he is!"
Kami narrowed his eyes.
The point was approaching—fast. Like a shooting star between worlds.
Goku's figure burst through the curves of Snake Way at brutal speed, wrapped in a crimson aura, arms pumping, his face drenched in sweat… but radiant.
He shouted as soon as he saw the temple:
"KAMI! Sorry I'm late!"
He didn't even slow down.
No greeting. No courtesy.
Only urgency.
Yemma didn't bother to scold him.
He just snorted and pointed at Kami.
"Hurry, old man! Before it's too late for the ones still fighting!"
Kami reached out his hand.
Goku grabbed it mid-run.
And in the same instant—
ZAAAM!
They vanished.
—
Sacred Temple – Earth's Sky
—
A flash of light descended at supernatural speed from the highest layers of the atmosphere. It was as if the sky had torn its own veil for an instant. And at the heart of that lightning—
They appeared.
On the platform of Kami's Temple, Goku landed on his feet with a force that cracked the sacred tiles.
"Thanks!" he yelled, already running toward the edge. "Really—thanks, Kami!"
"Go!" said the Namekian, barely catching his breath. "They're waiting for you!"
Without losing a second, Goku jumped—diving straight through the central shaft that led down to Korin Tower.
The wind became a vortex around him, his hair flaring like a black flame.
"MASTER KORIN!" he shouted before touching down.
And there he was.
The wise cat turned calmly, as if he'd been expecting him for hours.
"Took you long enough, Goku."
"The Senzu Beans—do you have them?!" Goku cried, landing in front of the small clay bowl that usually held them.
Korin leaned over the bowl, took a small green pouch, and tossed it with feline precision.
"Only three left. Use them wisely."
Goku caught it midair without missing a step, swallowing one immediately to recover from the strain of Kaioken. The effect was instant—his energy surged back like a tidal wave. But he didn't linger on it.
"Thanks, Master! You don't know how much this means!"
Then he looked up.
He could feel it—
the battlefield to the east.
Vegeta's energy… a brutal beacon.
"KINTO'UN!" he called.
His voice rolled through the clouds like thunder.
He didn't have to wait a heartbeat.
From the west, a living spark of golden cotton streaked across the sky, faster than ever before.
It stopped right before him.
Trembling. Ready.
Goku leapt onto it without hesitation.
"Let's go, my friend! Full speed ahead!"
And then—
They took off.
The Flying Nimbus shot through the sky like a golden lightning bolt, slicing through the clouds. Behind them, the temple vanished. Behind them, the calm. Ahead… hell itself.
Goku clutched the Senzu pouch to his chest.
"Hold on… I'm coming."
The wind tore at his face.
His heart pounded with a strange mix of fury and hope.
This time…
he wouldn't fail.
⸻
At the same time
Eastern Plains
—
The battlefield was a graveyard without tombstones.
No wind.
No birds.
No sound—except the low, almost imperceptible hum of ki from the two Saiyans who still ruled the sky… motionless.
The ground was cracked.
Burned.
Shattered in dozens of places.
On the dirt, shrouded by the long shadows of the descending sun, lay the bodies of the fallen.
Yamcha.
Tien.
And what little was left of Chiaotzu.
Their remains had been laid with respect, beside a low rock formation. But even there, covered with scraps of cloth that had survived the explosions, death clung to them like a silent presence.
It was impossible not to look.
Impossible not to feel.
—
A few meters away, three figures still stood.
Piccolo—his back straight as a green wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the horizon as if waiting for something that had yet to appear.
Krillin—sitting on a rock, elbows on his knees, sweat on his forehead, hands stained with dust and dried blood. He breathed quietly. He hadn't spoken much in half an hour.
And finally… Gohan.
Standing.
Shaking.
Eyes red from crying—
But unmoving beside Piccolo for more than forty minutes.
And in front of them…
Princess Vegetta.
—
She sat atop a jagged rock formation, as if the stone itself had shaped into a throne for her.
One arm rested on a bent knee. The other hung loosely at her side. The sun glinted off her armor—flawless, not a single crack. Her hair rose naturally, as though gravity itself obeyed her.
And her eyes…
Her eyes were fixed on Gohan.
Directly.
For nearly twenty minutes.
She didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
Didn't move.
She simply watched.
As if analyzing something no one else could see.
—
Gohan swallowed hard.
It wasn't just fear.
It was something deeper.
That woman wasn't looking at him like a child.
Nor like an enemy.
She looked at him as if he were an experiment—
a question with no answer.
And that uncertainty…
was worse than any attack.
"W-Why… why won't she stop looking at me…?" he whispered, voice trembling.
Krillin, beside him, muttered softly.
"I don't know, kid, but… don't take it personally. Maybe she's bored."
"She doesn't look bored…" murmured Gohan.
Krillin followed his gaze, and for a brief moment… felt a chill run down his spine.
It was true.
Vehetta didn't look bored.
Nor tense.
Nor even impatient.
She looked focused.
Like a hunter who has spotted a rare prey…
and waits for the perfect moment to strike.
—
A few steps from her throne, Nappa crouched, resting on his heels, arms on his knees—like a warhound that hadn't yet been unleashed.
He said nothing.
Only glanced sideways at his Princess.
Waiting.
Just one word from her…
and the massacre would continue.
But for now…
She was silent.
—
Piccolo finally turned to the two survivors.
He observed them for a moment.
Gohan was pale, eyes swollen, but he hadn't run.
Hadn't broken.
He was still standing.
Krillin… had barely enough energy to stay alert. His ki was low, but his eyes still burned with will.
Piccolo inhaled deeply.
Then spoke.
His voice was low but firm—
dry as stone, sharp as decision itself.
"Listen. If Goku doesn't show up in the next fifteen minutes… I'll have to play my last card."
Krillin looked up.
"What card?"
Piccolo's expression darkened.
"My life."
Silence fell instantly.
Gohan stepped forward.
"W-What?! You can't—!"
"I can. And if things get out of control… I will."
Krillin clenched his fists.
"Wait! That's not part of the plan!"
Piccolo narrowed his eyes.
"What plan? The plan where we die one by one?"
Gohan cried out, desperate:
"My dad's coming! He promised he'd always protect me!"
His eyes blazed—
not with fear this time,
but with faith.
"He promised Mom… and me!"
Piccolo looked at him.
His face unreadable.
But inside…
Something stirred.
Something beyond cynicism.
Beyond battle logic.
A spark.
A doubt.
A hope he dared not embrace.
Krillin, though exhausted, spoke too.
"He's right, Piccolo. Goku always shows up. Always."
"This time's different," the Namekian said flatly. "He's not on this planet. We don't know if he can cross in time. We don't know if he'll have any strength left when he does. And we don't know if you, Gohan…" he paused. "…if you'll even be able to move when the time comes."
Gohan lowered his head.
But said nothing.
—
Piccolo knelt down. Took a long stick from a charred branch and began drawing in the dusty ground.
"Listen. If Goku doesn't arrive and the Princess enters the fight…"
He drew a circle in the dirt.
"Krillin, I want you to create a smokescreen from this point. Cover our retreat."
He drew a line in the opposite direction.
"I'll position myself here. I'll attack her head-on. No ki blasts—just what real strength I have left."
Krillin leaned in.
"And us?"
Piccolo looked at Gohan.
"You'll take him and get out of here."
"WHAT?! But I want to fight too!"
"No!" Piccolo roared.
The ground itself vibrated. Even from her perch, Vegetta raised an eyebrow at the tone.
Piccolo lowered his voice, but not its edge.
"You're going to survive. You're going to live. Because if Goku shows up… you'll be the reason he doesn't lose control."
Gohan stared at him—tears brimming again.
"But… what about you?"
"Don't worry about me."
He turned to Krillin.
"And you. If Goku makes it in time—protect him when he lands. Give him time to assess the situation. Don't distract him."
Krillin nodded slowly.
"Got it."
—
The sun dipped lower.
Orange light stretched long shadows across the field.
The heat wasn't natural.
It was the weight of contained ki.
And just then…
Vegetta stood up.
Smoothly.
Almost gracefully.
"…"
Gohan felt a spasm in his stomach.
Krillin swallowed hard.
Piccolo straightened.
She took a few steps—slow, deliberate.
Her boots cracked against broken rock.
Her eyes still fixed on them.
Then she spoke.
For the first time in an hour.
"Time."
One word.
Her voice—colder than ice,
clearer than crystal,
more final than judgment itself.
"Three hours have passed," she added, glancing at the sky. "Kakarot hasn't arrived."
Nappa rose instantly.
"Can I go now, Princess?! Can I kill them?!"
Vegetta didn't look at him.
She just took another step.
"I don't need to say it."
She turned slowly toward the three.
Her pupils glinted.
And then—
The sky trembled.
The air changed.
Not with wind.
Not with sound.
But with presence.
An invisible pressure descended on the field, as if the planet itself had held its breath.
First came the feeling.
Then a chill.
And finally… a heartbeat.
A pulse of energy—distant, but firm.
Pure.
Direct.
Like a spiritual bell tolling from the heavens.
And in that instant…
The three survivors felt it.
Krillin spoke first.
"T-That energy…?"
He spun around. Dust lifted around him. His whole body trembled. He clutched his chest.
"It's him." A wide, genuine smile broke across his face. "IT'S GOKU!"
His eyes filled with tears.
His knees almost gave out.
"You made it… You finally made it!"
—
Gohan stood silent at first. Frozen.
Then his ki flared instinctively.
Emotion took shape as power.
Heat rushed through his arms.
His heart raced—something deep within him recognized that energy instantly.
"Dad…"
He took a step forward.
Then another.
His lips trembled.
"It's him… Dad's here!"
A single tear rolled down his cheek—
but this one was different.
A tear of joy.
—
Piccolo… said nothing.
For the first few seconds, he simply watched.
The energy felt like lightning spreading from the west.
But it wasn't the same.
It wasn't the Goku who'd died fighting Raditz.
Nor the naïve Goku from years before.
This…
was something else.
Piccolo slowly opened his eyes wider.
"This power…"
His voice barely rose above a whisper, as if the air itself refused to carry it far.
"Is this… Goku?"
A pause.
His heart skipped.
His pupils dilated.
"No… this goes beyond anything I've felt before."
Krillin turned toward him, his smile trembling.
"See? I told you! I told you he'd come back!"
Gohan nodded hard.
"He'd never break his promise!"
Piccolo narrowed his gaze skyward.
The ki was coming straight toward them—clearer by the second. Stronger. More defined.
And it kept growing.
"Kakarot…" he murmured.
—
On the opposite side of the field, the Saiyans felt it too.
Nappa was the first to glance up, frowning, then raising an eyebrow.
"Huh? What the…?"
He slowly turned toward his superior.
"Princess, there's something—"
But his words died.
Vegetta already knew.
Her hand clutched the scouter, the lens flashing red. The beeping was rapid. Harsh. Urgent.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The device couldn't settle on a number.
6,200…
6,800…
7,400…
8,000!
"W-What…?"
For the first time since landing on Earth—
Vegetta was surprised.
And not with cold, calculated surprise.
It was real.
Her expression hardened, but her eyes…
shone with something deeper than analysis.
"This can't be…" she whispered.
"What is it?" Nappa barked, now visibly shaken.
"It's him," she said, gaze locked on the sky.
"Kakarot."
Nappa straightened.
"For real?!"
"Yes."
Her voice was low—
but heavy.
"And his power level… surpasses eight thousand."
Nappa's face froze.
"WHAT?! THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE—THE SCOUTER MUST BE MALFUNCTIONING!"
The words exploded like a bomb.
Vegetta slowly lowered the device from her face. The lens trembled, seconds from bursting from the unstable readings.
She said nothing.
But her fingers… tightened.
—
Nappa growled.
"That's impossible! How can that low-class bastard—?!"
But she cut him off.
"Shut up, Nappa!"
The snarl silenced him.
Her voice turned cold again.
"How can a low-class warrior possess this kind of power…?"
—
Nappa swallowed.
Then… she gave the order.
Firm. Strategic. Deadly.
"Listen carefully. This game is over."
"W-What do you want me to do?"
"Finish the ones who are left."
She turned to him, arms crossed.
"Kill the Namekian. Kill the human. We'll figure out the Dragon Balls later… we'll visit the Namekian's homeworld, if we have to."
From afar, Piccolo felt his insides freeze.
"And the boy…"
Vehetta looked up again.
Kakarot's energy was closer now—
clearer, stronger.
Gohan stared back, confused.
Vehetta barely moved her lips.
"Leave him alive."
"Huh?"
"He's Kakarot's son."
Her words were a decree. Not a suggestion.
"I don't want him dead.
He might prove useful later."
—
Nappa nodded, not fully understanding—but obedient nonetheless.
He turned toward the field where Piccolo, Krillin, and Gohan stood ready.
"With pleasure…"
And he began to walk.
Slow.
Like a hungry animal.
Like a living bomb counting down.
Each step crushed the earth beneath his boots. His ki flared into a furious bonfire—raw, smoky rage. His armor scorched, but his grin widening.
Because now, he had permission.
"Let's end this farce," he thought as he roared—
and charged.
—
Krillin moved first.
He'd seen it coming.
Nappa's aura was a war train: fast, loud, unstoppable.
"Gohan, get down!" he shouted, hurling himself into the air, firing two ki blasts straight at the brute.
BAH-BAH!
The explosions bounced off Nappa's chest like rubber balls.
He didn't stop.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
And with one move—
"Tch… nuisance."
WHAM!
His arm shot out like a hammer.
It struck Krillin square in the stomach.
The small warrior barely managed a gasp before he was flung backward like a broken projectile. His body bounced three times across the ground, sending dust and stones flying.
"KRILLIN!" Gohan cried.
But there was no time to help.
Because then… Nappa turned.
Opened his mouth.
And light began to gather inside.
"Aghhhhh!" A blast erupted from his jaws—a searing beam of death, fired without warning, aimed where he thought Krillin had landed.
But it wasn't Krillin.
It was Gohan.
—
Gohan didn't move.
He was frozen.
His ki vibrated—but he didn't use it.
Fear. Pure, paralyzing fear gripped his body again.
He could see the beam coming.
Feel its heat.
Smell death itself.
He thought of his mother.
Of his father.
Of Yamcha. Chiaotzu. Tien.
Of Piccolo.
I'm going to die, he thought.
He closed his eyes.
—
But then…
Something stepped in front of him.
A green shadow.
An outstretched arm.
A deep, guttural shout.
"GOHAAAAAAN!"
BOOOOOOM!
The blast hit.
An explosion swallowed the scene in fire and light.
The air warped. Dust rose in a brutal cloud.
The ground split open.
—
Three seconds passed.
Then five.
When the smoke began to clear…
Gohan was still standing.
Shaking.
Covered in dirt.
But unharmed.
And before him—
Piccolo.
—
His body smoked.
His left arm hung charred halfway to the shoulder.
The right side of his chest was burned open.
Thick blood dripped onto the dry earth.
And yet—
He was standing.
He turned his head.
Looked at him.
At Gohan.
His lips curved—not a smile.
But something close.
"You… all right…?"
His voice was a whisper made of broken stones.
Gohan fell to his knees.
"M-Mr. Piccolo…?"
Piccolo chuckled—a short, painful sound.
"Stop… calling me mister…"
His legs trembled—
but he held for a moment longer.
"I… used to think… you were just a whiny brat."
Gohan couldn't stop crying.
"Don't say that! Don't… don't save me like this!"
"Shut up…" Piccolo coughed. "I'm talking, kid…"
His breathing faltered.
Each word ripped from his soul.
"When I offered to train you… I did it… to turn you into a weapon against these monsters."
Gohan shook his head, sobbing.
"I didn't want anyone to die… not you!"
"And yet…" Piccolo looked down. "…you changed me."
A pause.
His knees gave out.
He dropped to one leg.
"Damn kid…"
A low, almost sad laugh escaped him.
"I never knew what it meant to protect someone… until I met you."
Gohan reached out—but couldn't move.
Frozen by pain.
"PICCOLO!"
And then, the Namekian looked him straight in the eyes.
"You're… the only friend I've ever had…"
And fell.
A heavy silence blanketed the field like a black shroud.
Gohan didn't scream.
Not like before.
He just clenched his fists.
Tight.
Until his nails broke skin.
Until his aura began to shake.
Until his ki rumbled like a restrained roar.
—
From afar, Nappa grinned.
"Ha! One less!"
But something… was wrong.
The kid… had changed.
He wasn't trembling.
Wasn't crying.
Wasn't hiding behind anyone anymore.
Now, ki poured from his back like a wild storm—
spontaneous, untamed, alive.
Krillin, half-buried in rubble, barely opened his eyes.
"G-Gohan…?"
But what he saw sent a chill through his spine.
The boy was standing.
Dust spun around him, drawn into a furious vortex as if the planet itself recognized his awakening.
His eyes, red from crying, now burned with rage—
a rage too big for his small body to contain.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!" he screamed, and the air trembled.
The sky seemed to twist above him.
Gohan's aura erupted.
From her rocky perch, Vegetta watched the phenomenon closely.
Her face stayed calm, but her left eyebrow arched slightly.
"That child…"
She activated her scouter with a faint tap.
3,200…
3,800…
4,100…
"It's climbing… again."
And she knew.
It wasn't random.
It wasn't luck.
It was power—raw, wild, emotional power.
"A volcano without discipline," she murmured. "But real."
—
Gohan raised both hands.
Brought them to his forehead.
He remembered.
The technique Piccolo had shown him once—only once—on a quiet training day.
"This is for you… Mr. Piccolo!" he shouted through gritted teeth.
Ki gathered in his palms—a trembling sphere of golden light.
It pulsed so hard the ground cracked in a perfect circle around him.
Krillin tried to move.
"GOHAN, DON'T—!"
But Gohan had already decided.
No strategy.
No fear.
Only heart.
"MASENKOOOOOOOO!"
The blast of light tore through the air like a divine spear.
It streaked forward—furious, straight, roaring like golden thunder.
Nappa, still grinning from his "victory," didn't even see it coming.
"Huh?"
BAAAAAAAM!
The impact was total.
The Saiyan's stomach took the hit head-on.
The explosion engulfed him, hurling smoke, rock, and energy in all directions.
His scream was guttural—
"AARRRRGHHHHH!"
He flew backward, slamming into a rock face, carving a trench through the dirt.
A cloud of dust swallowed everything.
—
From above, Vegetta frowned.
Not in anger.
In surprise.
And something faintly resembling respect.
"That boy…"
She glanced at her scouter again.
5,200.
And dropping.
"Acts on emotion. Strikes by instinct. But if he survives this day… he'll be a problem."
—
Below…
Gohan gasped for breath.
His arms felt like lead.
The attack had drained him.
But he was still standing.
Krillin dragged himself forward.
"Gohan… that was… incredible!"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Because through the smoke—
Something moved.
—
Nappa.
Burned. Covered in dirt and blood. Roaring.
"AAAGGGHHH! YOU LITTLE BRAT!"
His eyes were bloodshot.
Hair singed.
Armor shredded.
But more than hurt—he was furious.
He spread both arms.
Ki gathered in his chest like molten metal.
"I'LL PAY YOU BACK TENFOLD!"
"GOHAN, RUN!" Krillin screamed, still on his knees.
The boy looked at him—
and froze again.
Fear crept back in.
"I… I can't move…" he whispered.
The beam shot forward.
WHOOOOOOSH!
Krillin shut his eyes.
"NOOO!"
Nappa laughed.
"Say goodbye, you little runt!"
The blast hit.
A brilliant explosion.
Blinding. Cracking.
Silence followed.
Nappa panted.
"Heh… hehehe… that's it…"
But then—
A sound.
A whisper in the wind.
Nappa turned slowly…
And saw him.
Gohan.
Standing on a yellow cloud.
Untouched.
Looking down, confused—but smiling.
Nappa's brow furrowed.
"W-What…?"
His ki sense tingled.
A shadow was descending from the heavens.
And beside him… Vegetta felt it too.
She looked up—and for an instant…
Her eyes widened.
A figure floated down from the sky.
Orange gi.
Heavy boots.
Black hair waving in the wind.
A calm face.
An aura like an ocean.
A power like a mountain.
Goku.
—
The air itself seemed to know.
The pressure changed.
A presence—pure yet overwhelming—settled over the battlefield.
Goku landed.
Gently.
Not even a grain of dust stirred.
His eyes swept the scene.
The wreckage.
The cratered earth.
The fallen bodies.
Piccolo—motionless.
And Gohan.
Wide-eyed. Tearful. Hopeful.
"Dad…" the boy whispered. "Dad…"
—
Krillin gasped.
"Goku…!"
A broken, joyful grin stretched across his face.
"You made it… You really made it, buddy!"
—
From the other side, Vegetta finally spoke.
Her voice was firm—but something new rippled through it.
Curiosity.
And a spark of excitement.
"So… you finally arrived."
She lowered her arms.
Crossed her legs atop the rock.
And with a half-smile, in a low but clear voice, said:
"Kakarot."
—
Goku lifted his gaze.
And saw her.
The Princess.
And at last—
the low-class warrior who defied fate…
stood face to face with her.
At last—
warrior against warrior.
Destiny against pride.
Face to face.