The greenish fluid around me moved as I shifted, my tail curling lazily around one of my legs. Most babies drool and blink and occasionally fart in their sleep. Me? I was trying to choke out my own tail with sheer willpower. Real fun times.
I gripped it tighter, fingers biting into soft fur. The pressure made my stomach twist. A spike of nausea hit behind my eyes. My chest tightened, my vision blurred, and my limbs went all loose and jelly-like. Just like the last time. And the time before that. Still, I held on.
Ten seconds… twelve… thirteen…
Black spots crowded the edges of my vision. Then everything went fuzzy. Woke up drooling in my own pod again. Yay progress.
I blinked slowly, green haze filling my sight, pod sensors clicking quietly in the background. I exhaled through my nose and adjusted the feeding breathing/mask. It kept repeating information to me that I really didn't care about. Even that stupid mask thing couldn't handle how much I moved around in here.
There wasn't much else to do. Couldn't read. Couldn't fight. But I could train the one thing most Saiyans ignored until it bit them in the ass, tail weakness. Every time I squeezed, I lasted a bit longer. The blackout hit slower. The vertigo wasn't quite as violent. It was the only real marker of progress I had. I'd be damned if I let this glorified meat appendage stay a shutdown button forever.
Day… something. Time doesn't matter here, not really.
I started trying to reach deeper. Not just physical training, but mental training. Energy. Something. I mean, this was Dragon Ball, right? I was a Saiyan now. So I sat still in my pod, legs crossed like a soggy monk, and tried to feel my ki.
Nothing.
Okay, maybe it wasn't supposed to feel like anything. Maybe ki was just subtle.
I tried again. Focused on my core. Tried breathing slower, even though I had a mask jammed to my face. My chest barely moved, bubbles drifting up as I exhaled. The fluid hummed around me.
Still nothing.
Alright. Plan B.
I stared down at my hands, trying to imagine energy flowing through them. Buzzing, sparking, charging. Something. I'd seen Goku do it with yelling and a dramatic pose. But yelling underwater didn't really have the same vibe, and my body was still baby-sized and not exactly ready.
I clenched my fist. Focused everything inward. "Ki," I whispered mentally. "I want to punch harder. Blow stuff up. Feel something, damn it."
Still. Nothing.
No warmth. No spark. No internal hum of power. Just the quiet beep of the pod's systems and my own disappointment echoing through my skull. Fine. Ki control was gonna be a long-term goal. I'd settle for not passing out from tail-choking for now. I stretched out in the fluid, letting my tail float beside me. I stared at it, narrowing my eyes like it had personally betrayed me.
I tried squeezing again. This time with my tail pressed between both fists like a rope. The pressure made my ears ring. But I didn't let go. Seventeen seconds. Then black. When I came to, one of the nurses was muttering under her breath outside the pod. Scouter lit up. She tapped at the control panel, probably checking my vitals again. I closed my eyes before she looked up, pretending to be a good little sleeper. I didn't need her messing with my pod or reporting anything weird to central command.
Another day, another float. My tail lazily swayed beside me, half-curled. I didn't bother grabbing it this time. I needed a break after the last blackout. Not physically, just mentally. Failing at ki, nearly choking myself unconscious again, it wore on me, even if I was technically an infant.
The pod was quiet today. No techs. Just the occasional flicker of power readouts and the soft hum of machines keeping us alive. It should've been peaceful. Instead, it made me feel… hollow.
I don't know why it hit me then. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe it was the way the pod next to mine blinked red for a system check. Or maybe it was the fact that, even in this alien body, I still had the same human ache in my chest.
I wanted someone to visit me. I didn't need kisses on the forehead or bedtime stories. Just a face. A glance. Something. But no one ever came. Whoever my Saiyan parents were, they hadn't shown up once. No curious father checking my readings. No mother growling with pride. Just strangers monitoring stats and moving on. And sure, Saiyan culture wasn't built on hugs and kisses, well, not in this universe 7, at least. But still... part of me hoped. Just once. That someone might show up and look at me like a parent should.
I snorted to myself. "Yeah, good luck with that."
Until someone arrived in the pod room. Two adult Saiyans. One tall, broad, and furrowed brow. The other, smaller, with tired eyes. Their steps echoed through the chamber. I didn't recognize them right away. Not until I saw the scars on his cheek. Bardock. The legend himself.
And beside him, soft features, shoulder-length black hair, armor that looked barely used, must be Gine. They weren't here for me. Of course not. But I couldn't look away. Bardock stopped in front of a pod a few rows down. I pressed my cheek to the pod glass to get a better look. The figure inside had long saiyan hair, I knew who it was. Raditz. That had to be him.
"He's growing fast," Bardock said, arms crossed. His voice had this roughness to it, like gravel soaked in smoke.
Gine smiled. "He's going to be strong. Just like you."
Bardock huffed, but didn't argue. Instead, he stared at the baby in the pod, his son, with a look I'd never seen on a Saiyan before. Not just pride. Not just curiosity. Care. Real, stubborn, quiet care. I swallowed hard.
I wasn't some fragile soul desperate for affection. I didn't need validation. But damn... watching them made something twist in my chest.
"You lucky little bastard," I muttered inside my head, staring at Raditz. Gine leaned in, fingers gently brushing the pod's control panel. "He has your spirit," she said. They were so normal. So weirdly human. I hated how much I liked it. I shifted again, trying not to look obvious, but I wanted more. Wanted to watch them longer. Study them. Remember what real looked like. What family could be, even in this brutal world.
They weren't supposed to be rare. But they were. Gine turned, brushing her hand across Bardock's shoulder. "We should go. We'll visit again."
"Yeah," he said, glancing at the pod one more time. "He'll be fine."
Then they started walking away. My tail twitched. I watched them until they disappeared down the corridor. Hours passed. The Raditz stirred. I knew the story. Knew how it ended. I always thought it was a shame, he had potential. He just never had the right people pushing him. Goku got Earth. Raditz got... Vegeta and Nappa.....
I turned my attention back to my own reflection in the pod glass. Freckles. A tail that still twitched when I wasn't thinking about it. Whoever my parents were, they hadn't shown up. Maybe they were dead. Maybe they were off-world. Or maybe they just didn't care. Didn't matter.
Three months of pod life is exactly as thrilling as it sounds, mostly hissing pumps, recycled gel, and me trying not to lose my mind. But I used the time. My tail-grip blackout record climbed past a full minute, and somewhere between the headaches and passing out, I finally caught it.
Ki.
Not a blast, not even a glow, just a grain-of-sand pulse in my gut, like a second heartbeat. The first time it flickered, I thought the pod lights had glitched. The second time I felt it roll under my ribs, warm and restless, I knew it was mine. A start. Far ahead of schedule for a toddler who can't walk.
Today, the nursery doors slammed open hard enough to rattle every tank. Heavy boots. Royal armor plates clinking. King Vegeta's power pressed against the room like extra gravity. He already knew who I was, some report must have crossed his desk weeks ago, but he acted like he was just doing rounds. Two elite guards trailed him; their scouters pinged nonstop, logging every infant's stats.
I watched through half-lidded eyes as he scanned the tiers:
Bottom row, fodder.
Middle row, us elites.
Top row, single red pod: his precious son.
He paused at Prince Vegeta's tank first. Scientists hustled over, screens lighting up. "Power level has risen to five-five-zero, Your Majesty," one tech announced.
The King's mustache twitched in something like approval. "Good. A hundred-point gain in a quarter cycle, respectable." Then he turned toward me. Everyone tensed. One scientist actually gulped. The King stepped closer, cape flicking behind him. He didn't bother to kneel; he just slapped his handheld reader against my glass.
Beep-beep-BEEP.
"Six-four-zero," the device chimed. Muted gasps. A few techs whispered numbers at each other, double-checking. King Vegeta's eyes narrowed, calculating, not surprised. He'd seen the earlier 540 report; he must have been waiting to confirm the trajectory.
"A female," he said aloud, voice carrying through the chamber. "Surpasses the prince by nearly a hundred points."
He folded his arms. "Reminds me of that Broly debacle." His tone sharpened, loud enough for every white-coat within earshot. The room felt colder. Broly's exile was still fresh gossip: born with a level that rivaled the king, Broly's father had taken him and left the planet. I probably wasn't born yet when it happened.
He tapped the scouter once more, then spoke, clearly intending the whole nursery to hear. "A super-elite female could prove useful. Perhaps a… compatible match for my son when they're of age. Strength breeds strength."
My tail whipped against the tank wall in reflex. A royal marriage plan? Fuck no, I wouldn't want to marry Vegeta, no office to the future him but yeah no.
With his business done, he headed toward the doors. The King paused, looked straight at my pod. I lolled back, tail flicking. Ki pulsed, a timid spark. Six-four-zero power level at three months old. A future marriage bargain hanging over my head that I didn't want.
Two years. That's the regulation. At age two, the pods open, and you get tossed into the real world, gravity, desert winds, and fistfights for breakfast. I could hardly wait. I curled my tail around my waist, clenched it once, no blackout.