Mount Paoz — one of the calmest, most peaceful places in the entire world. Far removed from the chaos, pollution, and deafening noise of the great capitals. Humans were a rarity here. The only ones around were basically just a couple of families who, by sheer coincidence, happened to live right next door to each other.
A serene place to live, free from the stress of city life, in intimate contact with nature, breathing air as pure as the heart of a newborn child.
But not that day.
From afar, it was impossible to miss: the small, humble house of the Son family suddenly shook itself free from the ground, leaping up and shuddering in the air, as if cursed with some satanic telekinetic witchcraft making it levitate. Nothing of the sort.
It was simply the screams of the woman who lived inside.
"GOKU! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!" she roared, the veins in her neck bulging so much they looked ready to explode. With one arm, she clutched a white bedsheet against her bare body, while with the other, she chose her weapon of revenge: kitchen knives.
Goku barely dodged them, his teeth clenched in a grimace of pure terror, ducking, sidestepping, but mostly jumping.
Yes, jumping. Because Chi-Chi had decided to go for castration shots, aiming squarely at her husband's most sacred territory, while he kept begging her to calm down, promising everything could be fixed, that it would all be alright soon, after all, four months was nothing.
"FOUR MONTHS?! MY POOR LITTLE GOTEN WILL BE LOST FOR FOUR MONTHS?!"
Huge flocks of birds scattered in panic from treetops miles away.
Gohan and Videl were off visiting Mr. Satan in Satan City, meaning there would be no witnesses to Goku's murder.
The wall behind him quickly became a grotesque display of rage, studded with over two dozen knives buried halfway deep. A savage show of raw power. That day, Goku discovered his wife could hurl knives with enough force to pierce concrete.
When the knives ran out, she switched to forks. Apparently, Chi-Chi had woken up that morning with a fetish for sharp, penetrative objects. And when those were spent too, she resorted to blunt weapons: pots, pans, kettles, anything unlucky enough to cross her path.
All the while, she cursed him from his great-grandmother all the way down to his Saiyan mother he'd never even known.
She only began to calm down once exhaustion overtook her, panting, clutching a rolling pin she seemed ready to smash across her husband's skull. But she didn't. It slipped from her grasp, and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably, her cries drilling mercilessly into Goku's ears.
"HOW COULD YOU, GOKU?! MY LITTLE GOTEN MUST BE SCARED, ALONE, TERRIFIED, WONDERING WHERE HE IS!"
Her body, against her will, forced her voice down—otherwise, she would have gone permanently hoarse.
Silence, of course, was the last thing she did.
"Chi-Chi, don't be like this. Everything will be fine, you'll see." Goku's voice was calm, steady. He took a few careful steps toward his kneeling wife, hoping to comfort her. Deep down, it hurt him to see her so broken. "It's not so serious. It's just Goten. And everyone knows you've always been more overprotective with Gohan than with him."
That was when it happened—an aura of red, violent energy flared up around Chi-Chi, her own personal Kaioken, ready to tear Goku limb from limb.
But the oblivious Son didn't notice. He kept approaching, sinking himself deeper into trouble.
"What I mean is true. While you forced Gohan to study nonstop, you let Goten be a little freer." He paused, stroking his chin in thought, making the biggest mistake of his life: turning his back on Chi-Chi. "Now that I think about it… maybe you love Gohan more than Goten…" (Sigh Idiot...)
Chi-Chi rose to her feet, trembling with fury, fists clenched with unimaginable force. Her aura turned dark, almost demonic. Her expression twisted into a shadowed mask, and her eyes glowed a murderous red.
And at that very moment, Goku's fate was sealed.
Not only would she stop cooking for him for four months, not only would she banish him to the couch for the same length of time—she would also deliver, right then and there, the beating that even Vegeta hadn't managed to give him when he first came to Earth.
Three squares separated the two of them, each five by five. A prudent distance… and at the same time, far too little.
The tension in the air could be felt, breathed, cut through with a kunai.
Goten bit at his lower lip nervously. For some strange reason, he felt a rivalry with Trunks, as if Sakura's victory in this match would be his own victory over him. Maybe it was because of the advice he gave Sakura—just as Trunks had done with Ino.
And he wasn't the only one. Trunks's stoic expression, feigning calm before the coming battle, didn't match the truth of his thoughts—or the eagerness he felt to see his former teammate get her face smashed in.
"BEGIN!"
Hayate's voice was law.
With indescribable ferocity, Sakura burst forward, making a hand sign mid-sprint to channel chakra into the soles of her feet.
...
The fight went just like it did in the show—
Finally, both kunoichis charged forward with a raised fist, in what promised to be the final blow. Whoever landed the shot won.
BAAAAMMM!
It was brutal. Even the Saiyans, who were used to blows that could shatter mountains like fragile stacks of cards, couldn't help but twist their faces in pain. As for Goten, he shoved all his fingers into his mouth at once, biting down in sheer anguish.
Both girls went flying, crashing far apart from each other. They struck at the same time, in the same way—so much so that their bodies hit the ground before the blood spilling from their mouths could.
And finally, their head protectors fell forward, clinking against the floor in the stunned silence of the arena.
They were completely out cold, knocked into dreamland. All that was left was to decide a winner.
"Cough, cough! Neither of them is in any condition to keep fighting." Hayate, relieved that this fight had ended, raised his voice. "Since there's no winner in the fourth preliminary match, it ends in a draw. Both are eliminated."
Their senseis moved to retrieve them. Kakashi was just about to vanish in his usual puff of smoke when his eyes widened in surprise—Goten was already down there.
"Damn, so fast! I didn't see a thing!"
Everyone thought the same. Even the Hokage hadn't caught it.
Only Kurenai and her team remained to show off their abilities. The kunoichi's crimson eyes fixed on Kakashi, demanding some sort of explanation.
Worse, Trunks did the same just moments later. And the rest stared at him the way children watch a magician—waiting to catch the trick.
No one caught it. Maybe because there was no trick at all.
Goten already had Sakura in his arms, smiling with a quiet pride after watching her fight all the way through, even while under Ino's mind control.
Trunks seemed less content, almost unsettled at how battered Ino looked. Still, he felt the same thing as Goten—he guessed she had never fought to this point in her entire life.
While others were worried, the two boys felt something different. A strange sense of empathy, seeing kids their own age collapse unconscious after taking so many hits.
It was a rough way to think about it, but who could blame them? By seven, both had already taken their first savage beatings until they blacked out. For Goten and Trunks, this was just normal.
"Sakura did better, and you know it." Goten grinned, knowing the jab would get under his skin.
"Hmph." Trunks grunted, crouching down to lift the blonde carefully, as if she weighed less than air. "If it wasn't for Naruto, she'd have lost…"
Goten opened his mouth, ready to argue that not only Naruto, but he himself had a hand in it. Luckily, he shut up at the last second. He knew pushing further would tick Trunks off too much.
"What is it? What were you about to say?" Trunks arched a brow at his friend's odd behavior. Goten, flustered, turned sharply with Sakura still in his arms—and promptly smashed her head into Ino's.
BAAAMM!
Trunks shut his eyes and clenched his teeth, begging Kami for the patience not to jump him right there. A vein throbbed at his temple. That headbutt had sounded as loud as the last punch of the kunoichi fight.
"Goten, don't you think they've had enough hits for today?"
"You're right, hahaha." Goten scratched the back of his neck carelessly with the same hand that held Sakura by the back—so she slipped right out of his arms and fell, hitting her head against the floor this time.
Kakashi facepalmed. He was about two seconds away from beating the boy up himself.
"Damn it! Be careful, Goten!"
After some time—
Her eyes fluttered open slowly. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her hazy, sluggish vision, and saw all the genin and jōnin gathered along the balcony railing, most likely watching a new match unfold.
She was seated on the floor, leaning against the cold wall. Nobody noticed she had come to, except Goten. Somehow, he picked up on it, turned around, and walked over, crouching right in front of her.
"I lost, didn't I?" she muttered, lowering her head, the green in her eyes duller than usual.
"Ino lost too. Both of you did."
Sakura's head snapped up instantly, her mouth falling open as she realized Ino was in the exact same state. In fact, she was only just now waking up.
"Sakura, I don't know how, but I managed to talk to you telepathically." (That's how Goten helped her when Ino was in her mind)
"I see…" She still couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.
It had been strange—nothing like her internal struggle against Ino. She hadn't seen Goten at all, only heard his voice. And yet, it had felt as though he was right there with her, invisible but close enough that if she'd only reached out a few inches, she could've touched him.
That's why they called it speaking from the heart. It was an oddly intimate experience for both sides.
Looking up at the ceiling, Goten smiled, almost as if remembering a private joke. "If I'd known meditating for an hour after every training session with my dad actually worked, I'd have put in more effort."
"He never told you why you did it?"
He shrugged. "Guess he forgot. My fault too, for never asking."
"...Some teacher he must be. Probably as careless as Kakashi-sensei."
Sakura clapped a hand over her mouth, terrified Goten had somehow read her thoughts. But judging by the way he looked at her, she knew he hadn't.
After all, his discovery had been a pure accident. Later, when he tried the same thing with Trunks, it didn't work. The Briefs boy even asked him why he was pulling all those weird faces—if he needed to use the bathroom or what.
Sakura winced as she tried to stand, only to collapse back down, clutching her head.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
She managed a weak smile. His worried expression was oddly funny. "It's my head. I don't know why, but it's killing me."
Ino, still groggy, overheard and finally turned her attention to Sakura beside her. She too felt the throbbing pain in her skull.
Panic flashed across Goten's face. He fumbled inside his gi, pulled something out, and pressed it toward Sakura.
"Open your mouth," he ordered, shoving a seed at her before she could even react. "You too," he added, turning to Ino.
The blonde swatted his hand away with a scowl, tilting her head back. She picked the seed off the ground herself and swallowed it without his help.
Sakura was already used to it. Ino wasn't—and her jaw practically hit the floor when she felt her chakra surge back to full strength, the pain vanishing instantly. She felt even better than before the damned exam had started.
"Goten, you're the worst…"
Despite the words, Sakura smiled at him with genuine warmth, even joy, taking the Saiyan's hand as he helped her to her feet.
The scene didn't escape Ino's notice. She shifted her focus toward Trunks. But the boy ignored her completely. He didn't move to help, didn't even look her way. He kept his back to her, eyes vaguely on Tenten and Temari's match, though clearly not paying it much mind.
She grew tired of waiting. Rising on her own, she walked back to her team. They were shocked at how fast she had recovered, greeting her with encouragement and smiles, even her sensei joining in. They praised her for her strategy with the hair technique, for landing her jutsu in the middle of the fight. Everyone congratulated her.
Everyone except him.
What was wrong with him? Why wouldn't he even spare her the slightest attention?
The answer became painfully obvious when she returned—he didn't so much as glance at her. Instead, he walked in the opposite direction, straight toward Kakashi and his team, making a point of avoiding her completely.
Minutes earlier—
After Trunks's scolding and Naruto's shouting from the balcony, Goten finally took the time to carefully carry the unconscious Sakura, doing his best —clumsy as he was— not to hurt her again.
Both Saiyans began to slowly float up with the kunoichis in their arms, earning more than a few surprised stares from those who still hadn't realized they could fly. Well, now every genin and their sensei knew.
"Goten, I need to ask you a favor." Trunks said in a low voice, making sure no one else could hear. "Don't start with your nonsense."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that if you notice me acting strange around the others, don't start asking questions or messing things up." He looked down at the girl he was holding with such care.
"Remember, once the exam is over, we need to start keeping our distance. Better to get used to it now, otherwise it'll only be harder when we leave." He forced a smile, tinged with sorrow, a detail even the usually oblivious Goten couldn't miss. "Before we know it, we'll be home."
...
"Tenten can't go on… cough cough! The winner of the fifth match: Temari! cough cough!"
"That was fast." Naruto was drenched in sweat, shaken by the sheer strength and brutality with which the Sand girl fought. "Not to mention she handled all those attacks with ease."
It was like a scene straight out of a movie. The blonde stood surrounded by countless weapons, and not a single one had managed to scratch her.
And the state Tenten ended up in was far worse than how Sakura and Ino looked after their fight.
Temari smiled with satisfaction, though she muttered something about how easy the victory was and what a waste of time the battle had been.
She gripped her enormous closed fan tightly—the same one Tenten had crashed against before collapsing, completely unconscious. It was hard to understand how her spine wasn't shattered into dust after taking such a monstrous blow.
"WATCH OUT!" Lee shouted, leaping over the iron railing without hesitation to rush to his teammate's aid.
Temari had tossed Tenten aside like a rag doll, onto the pile of weapons scattered on the floor. Still, she had been precise enough to make sure the girl landed safely, but Lee intervened anyway, just in case.
"Wow, nice reflexes!"
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" yelled the green-clad genin, truly furious. Neji had rarely seen him so shaken—he was even trembling with rage!. "Were you trying to kill her?! That's no way to treat an opponent who gave it her all!"
BOOOM!
"Get out of my sight!" snapped the blonde, slamming her huge fan against the floor. "And take that useless trash with you! She wasn't worth my time!"
Lee couldn't hold back anymore. After gently laying Tenten down, he launched himself with a burst of energy, attacking the girl in an instant. Those who hadn't yet seen him fight were stunned by the blinding speed of the thick-browed genin.
"Leaf Hurricane!"
"Stop, Lee! You'll be disqualified!"
Neji's shout stood out. From anyone else, it would've sounded like a plea or concern—but from him, it was clearly an order. His expression barely changed, even though his own teammate was at stake. A brain of pure ice—rare for any genin his age.
But that order meant nothing once Lee's powerful kick landed… only to be blocked without the slightest effort by the blonde's sturdy fan.
"Just as I thought." She chuckled softly, narrowing her piercing green eyes. "As slow as her!"
"Did you see that, Trunks? She's on another level."
The Saiyan chose not to answer. He already knew of Lee's monstrous strength compared to the other genin, who looked like weaklings next to him. And he'd already witnessed Temari's power, handling that heavy fan as if it were made of paper. But he hadn't expected her to stop that attack so effortlessly.
Lee's execution had been flawless. As a martial artist, Trunks could tell. The leap—fast yet precise. The turn of his hips—perfect and orthodox for the kick's form. His shoulders relaxed just enough to give his body the required flexibility. Everything was correct, and yet…
Thank goodness Ino hadn't been matched against her. Thinking about it now, the idea of Ino in such a dangerous world, surrounded by people stronger than her, terrified him. Maybe he was wrong about her.
Not even Gai's frantic shouts ordering Lee to come back snapped Trunks out of his thoughts. Nor did Lee's later begging—when, after carrying Tenten up with him, he pleaded with Trunks to spare one of his miraculous seeds for her. Trunks agreed without hesitation, digging into his small pouch and handing it over automatically, by pure reflex.
What snapped him out of it was Temari's gesture. As she finally left the arena, climbing the stairs, she passed right by him, winking and flashing a sly, knowing smile. Of course, Trunks ignored her.
The kunoichi returned to her seat. That would have to wait, but she still had her eye on the boy, planning to get close to him and learn more—for the sake of the invasion.
Things had gotten more complicated with that tailed boy's appearance. Still, if she could find out something about Trunks, maybe it would work for Goten, too. But she'd never stoop to playing both sides—not in a thousand years. And besides, she wouldn't touch that monkey-tailed brat even with a stick.
Too bad her original target hadn't been Goten. That would've been much simpler. All she'd need was to "accidentally" grab his tail to discover his weakness. Not to mention, the little one was so open that with just a few questions, he'd probably spill everything—even the number of times Krillin had died and the details of his brother's Namekian master.
Ino noticed everything—almost the only one who did. For a moment, she thought she was imagining it.
During the two days they spent waiting in the tower, she overheard Trunks talking about his brief encounter with Gaara's team, and that the Sand girl had even offered him a scroll. But he turned it down, for their sake, their performance, blah blah blah.
"What's wrong with Trunks? Is he an idiot or what? I'm way prettier than her!"
When she glanced at Temari again, just in case, nerves fluttered in her chest—uncertainty crept in.
"Well, she is taller than me… and she's got a better figure too… but that's just because she's older! When I'm her age, there won't even be a comparison!"
She stopped again, stunned that she even cared. It made her feel… jealous?
Ino had always thought of herself as the ultimate prize. But now she was starting to come back down to earth—realizing she wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world. And this was just one kunoichi from Sunagakure. Who knew how many others like her—or even prettier—existed out there?
—Come on, Ino, calm down. It doesn't matter anyway—you only have eyes for Sasuke. —She cringed at her own thought, remembering that the Uchiha once used her as a hostage in a moment of panic and desperation. So much love for him, and yet it seemed she didn't matter to him at all.
"It's just that Trunks cannot be interested in someone else! Argh! It drives me crazy—it's humiliating! And now he doesn't even have the decency to notice me! He'd rather ignore me! Who does he think he is? He's not even that great! There are tons of guys hotter than him, so many I wouldn't even know where to start!"
She gave the Saiyan a quick once-over, from head to toe, trying to start listing his flaws.
"His hair… yes, that's it! I've never seen a color like that before!" Her weak criticism fell apart when she remembered Sakura's pink hair, Anko's purple, or Hinata's blue. "Well, actually, it's not that bad… but his eyes! What's with them? Why does he always look so grumpy? Ugh, it's awful!"
She shivered instantly when the Saiyan turned his head, almost timidly, and their eyes happened to meet. Her legs shook beneath her.
Who was she trying to fool? That sharp, piercing, almost aggressive gaze—it was the same one that had once captivated Bulma in Vegeta… and now, for a fleeting heartbeat, the kunoichi found herself caught in the same snare.
A few short blonde strands danced in the air as she shook her head furiously, seething at herself for not finding nearly as many flaws in him as she wanted.
"Of course! Looks aren't everything! That's why you wouldn't catch my attention in a thousand years! You're vain, impulsive, you hardly talk, you think you're the greatest thing alive, you're… you're… a bastard! Yes, that's it, a bastard!"
And yet, for all of Yamanaka's towering ego, she wasn't blind. She knew perfectly well that despite her unmatched feminine charms, not many boys in Konoha were after her. Thinking it over only made it worse—because truth be told, the only one who ever seemed to be was Trunks, and now… not even him. The frustration hit her like a punch.
"Ino! Wake up!" Choji snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Don't you see it's Shikamaru's turn already?"
The blonde couldn't believe it. How long had she zoned out like that? She looked down just in time to see her teammate, Nara, already standing face to face with that girl from the Sound.
Moments later, Hayate gave the order to begin.
Back in Universe Seven.
Chi-Chi had cooled down a little. Goku had survived, though Ox-King's daughter was still fuming, too furious to forgive her husband just yet.
To sum it up: after taking a beating with multiple frying pans—each one left dented and warped from bouncing off his rock-hard skull—Goku slipped into a fresh, spotless orange gi, placed two fingers to his forehead, and teleported straight to Capsule Corporation.
He had wanted to stop by Kami's Lookout and talk things over with Piccolo first, but Chi-Chi had flat-out refused. She demanded that he go break the news to Bulma before anything else. After all, Trunks was caught up in this mess, too.
In the sprawling gardens of the Earth's most important company stood a massive, spherical, white spaceship. Inside, an arrogant warrior was training under 200G. This was the backup ship, slightly less advanced than the newest one—which, for some reason, was nowhere to be seen.
He was doing one-finger push-ups. Pure physical training. All the combat robots had already been reduced to scrap metal, their lasers having failed to so much as graze him. That part had at least been entertaining. Now, forced to wait until Bulma repaired them, his mood had soured to its usual storm cloud.
Then, without warning, a sharp flash cut through his mind—an unmistakable sensation. A ki signature. Familiar. Kakarot's.
He dropped the exercise immediately and walked calmly over to the central console, pressing the largest button on the panel to shut off the gravity.
Grabbing a white towel from the red floor, he wiped the sweat from his face, then across his bare, scarred torso. He wore only the blue pants and white boots from the armor Bulma had made him back in the Cell Games. Nothing else.
Once he reached the gravity chamber's hatch, he pressed the wall switch that opened the bulkhead and extended the ramp.
And there he was. The idiot himself. Kakarot stood awkwardly at the entrance, staring at the door like the fool he was, debating whether to ring the intercom. Deep down, he was scared.
"And what, exactly, brings you here, Kakarot?"
The voice startled him. Goku's shoulders jumped, and he turned around stiffly, almost robotic. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed the prince approaching.
"Ve–Vegeta! Hey! How's it going? Were you training?"
"That's none of your concern, Kakarot." Vegeta's sharp gaze raked over him, dissecting his intentions with a look that could freeze the bravest warrior. "I see you're wearing your combat gi." A smirk curled his lips into that familiar sneer. "Did you come to finish our last fight?"
"No, ehh… see, Vegeta, I just came to talk to Bulma for a bit."
Perfect excuse. Maybe it would throw the prince off and let him speak to Bulma alone. If she scolded him, fine—by the time Vegeta found out the truth, Goku would already be halfway across the galaxy.
But nothing was ever that easy. Vegeta folded his arms and gave him a look thick with suspicion. When Kakarot showed up at Bulma's door, it was never for a friendly visit. Three years could pass without a word from him—until the Earth was in danger again.
Hell, at Bulma's birthday, when they'd met Beerus, Goku had ditched the party to train with King Kai.
"And what do you need to talk to her about, if I may ask?"
"It's nothing, Vegeta! Really!" Goku laughed nervously, waving his hand dismissively. "Just a little thing, nothing important at all!"
Vegeta's patience thinned. His question wasn't a question—it was an order. He hated spelling things out. He'd always suspected that Earth's stupidity had rubbed off on Kakarot over the years, though truth be told, for a low-class warrior, idiocy was practically a birthright.
"Does it have anything to do with the punishment of our sons?"
There. Something Kakarot wasn't saying. At the mention of Trunks and Goten, the Saiyan stiffened, his forced smile cracking just enough to bare his teeth for an instant.
"Well, the thing is—"
"Oh my, look who's here!" A cheerful voice chimed from a familiar figure, strolling out with shopping bags. "It's been so long, Goku! My, what a handsome man you've become!"
"Bulma's mom!" Goku exclaimed, lighting up with relief. Saved at the last second by Vegeta's mother-in-law—the woman who never opened her eyes and somehow had a deal with the devil, because despite her age, she looked younger and, well… hotter than her daughter.
"I was just heading out for errands, but those can wait! Come in, come in!" She latched onto his muscular arm and happily dragged him inside. "I just baked some chocolate-chip cookies. You'll love them with a bit of tea."
Not exactly Goku's kind of meal, and the Marilyn Monroe doppelgänger's closeness made him squirm, but if it meant dodging Vegeta's interrogation, he'd take it.
The prince's rage, however, was volcanic. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth nearly cracked. That meddling old woman was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong.
And then, without warning, she turned back—still clinging to Goku—and hooked her other arm around Vegeta's, dragging him along too.
"Veggie dear, don't just stand there! You're welcome as well! This is your home, too, after all!"
Vegeta froze, caught completely off guard. For an instant, he forgot all about Kakarot and let himself be led a few steps toward the living room.
"How I'd love it if you both came along shopping with me afterward! Imagine it—every woman at the mall would die of envy, seeing me with two such handsome men!"
"ARGH! What a vulgar woman!" That was the last straw. With a sharp jerk, he freed himself from the clingy Earthling. Even after all these years, he could only tolerate her presence in small, painful doses.
"Bulma, dear! Look who's come to visit!"
The scene was worse than Goku had ever feared. He'd only wanted to talk to Bulma—and now, somehow, he was standing before her entire family. Even Mr. Brief was there, calmly reading the newspaper.
On the couch sat the blue-haired scientist herself, sipping coffee and half-watching TV before heading to her lab to start the tedious job of repairing Vegeta's robots—something he'd been pestering her about ever since Trunks left to hunt the Dragon Balls with Goten.
"Goku? Well, this is a surprise. You never drop by just to visit. What's the occasion?"
It might have sounded rude or abrupt, but Bulma truly was surprised. She couldn't hide it.
Before her childhood friend could reply, Vegeta cut him off.
"I already asked him the same thing. So stop dancing around it and answer, Kakarot. What's this little unimportant matter you're here for? Speak!"
Between Vegeta's piercing glare, Bulma and her father's bafflement, and Mrs. Brief, who… well, still hadn't opened her eyes—the pressure was unbearable.
If he'd known he'd have to face a day like this, Goku would've stayed dead in the Other World. Looking back on it all—the shock from Piccolo's news about their sons, and now this mess—it was all just too much.
He sighed in resignation. At least telling the truth wasn't so hard. Goku had always been honest. His lies never went beyond small, harmless white ones.
Five minutes later…
The room was on the verge of collapsing under the sheer weight of emotions and feelings that buzzed violently through the air.
"ARGH! DAMN YOU, KAKAROT!" Vegeta roared, veins bulging not just on his forehead but snaking down his muscular torso as he clenched his fists. "HOW DARE YOU PLAY WITH OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN? IF YOU WERE SO EAGER TO THROW THEM AWAY, YOU SHOULD'VE JUST SENT YOUR USELESS SON ALONE!"
"But Vegeta, calm down for a second!" Goku stammered, raising his hands defensively, his body shrinking slightly under the prince's fury—yet still wearing that idiotic smile of his. "Don't look at it that way. At least they're not dead. Remember, Goten's involved too, so I've got a stake in this as well—"
"LIKE HELL I CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO YOUR STUPID SON!" Vegeta advanced, step by step, his smaller frame still radiating more menace than Goku's towering build. His sheer authority and rage made him look like a wolf cornering a sheep. "IF IT WERE UP TO ME, YOU'D HAVE SENT THAT OTHER USELESS BRAT GOHAN TOO AND DONE US ALL A FAVOR! FIX THIS RIGHT NOW, OR I'LL RIP YOU TO PIECES WITH MY OWN HANDS!"
What stung Vegeta the most was that Kakarot had dared to decide the fate of his son. It was humiliating. Training in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber was one thing, sure—but this? This was unforgivable. And on top of that, he had to endure Bulma's constant sobbing, blaming Goku again and again for having "lost" her only child.
"WAAAH! WAAAH! My baby! What did you do to my baby?!"
In tears, Bulma rushed straight at Goku, shoving the prince aside like he was nothing, hammering her fists against Goku's chest over and over.
When she finally burned herself out, all she could do was bury her face in Goku's chest, crying uncontrollably. Goku hesitated before timidly placing a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.
Vegeta couldn't stand to watch her cry anymore. His rage didn't vanish—it merely smoldered beneath the surface. He clenched his jaw and fists, his whole body trembling as he fought the urge to lunge at Kakarot right then and there.
"Listen to me carefully, insect, because I won't repeat myself." His eyes were closed, breathing deeply as if every word was an effort to restrain his fury. "When the time comes to bring them back, I'm going too. I won't leave this entirely in your hands—because if I do, you'll screw everything up. I won't let an idiot like you go after Trunks alone."
That declaration was another problem. Goku now found himself cornered. It had been hard enough to get Beerus to agree to let him go—what would happen if he told him Vegeta insisted on coming as well?
He could only pray that the God of Destruction would be in a good mood that day. And, above all, that there would be plenty of pudding.
As far as Goku was concerned, keeping one tiny detail to himself didn't count as lying. And that tiny detail was the difference in time flow between the universes. By the time they saw Goten and Trunks again, the boys would already be about sixteen.
"And I don't care what that cat or his sissy little friend has to say about it—I'm not taking no for an answer!"