A cold, crawling chill swept over every inch of his skin — the kind that twists your gut and freezes your blood all at once. From heaven to hell, from warmth to ice — just when things had been peaceful with Ino, something like this had to happen. Kakashi's life was slipping away, like air leaking from a deflating balloon.
He could sense two unfamiliar presences nearby — one of them massive, far beyond the chakra levels of any human in the shinobi world. Its sheer power even exceeded Naruto's reserves, though it lacked the sinister, demonic taint of Kurama.
"Whoever it is… they're the ones responsible."
In an instant, Trunks shot toward the source. His speed shattered the air, and before anyone could even register his arrival, he was already there — standing between a dying Kakashi and the two strangers. No cautious approach, no tactical observation — just pure, explosive instinct.
The Saiyan's glare was like a blade, locked on the pair ahead of him. Behind him, Kakashi was on his knees, gasping for air, pale as paper, drenched in sweat, teetering on the edge of collapse.
"What happened here?" Trunks growled, his voice low and furious. Kurenai froze; she had never heard that tone from him before. It sent goosebumps crawling up her arms — because she knew whatever came next wouldn't be pretty. "Who did this? ANSWER ME!"
His fury was so raw it was impossible to tell who he was shouting at — the enemy shinobi, or the Konoha jōnin behind him.
"Trunks, don't look him in the eyes! For the love of God — keep your eyes closed!"
He turned, confused by Gai's sudden, panicked order."Close my eyes? What are you talking about?"
"Don't ask! Just do it!"
Startled, Trunks flinched and obeyed, though the command made no sense to him.
"If you look into his eyes, you'll fall under his jutsu — the same one that put Kakashi in that state."
That made things clearer. It explained how Kakashi could look untouched yet be completely incapacitated. A genjutsu — powerful, dangerous, and invisible.
Right before closing his eyes, Trunks could've sworn he saw the crimson glow of a Sharingan in the stranger's gaze.
"That eye… it feels familiar."
"Itachi Uchiha," Asuma said grimly, reading his thoughts. "The one responsible for the Uchiha clan massacre."
The words hit Trunks like a gut punch. So that was it. The resemblance to Sasuke made perfect sense now.
He fought the urge to open his eyes again — curiosity gnawed at him — but he kept them shut, trusting Gai's warning.
"Well, isn't this pathetic?" a rough, mocking voice rumbled. "A kid stepping in to protect a bunch of jōnin? I was expecting real backup — a real fight."
Trunks didn't need to see him to imagine the twisted grin spreading across Kisame's face. The man's words dripped with disdain. "You've only delayed the inevitable. Your little stunt might buy these losers a few more seconds, no more."
Trunks clenched his jaw, his fists tightening until his knuckles turned white. The bastard wasn't bluffing — he was strong, absurdly so. His chakra was monstrous. The thought of someone like that trying to kill Kakashi and the others sent pure rage surging through his veins.
"He's powerful, yes," Trunks thought. "But there's something different about that Itachi guy. He drained Kakashi's energy in an instant!" The mere thought made his stomach twist. If he'd arrived a moment later, Kakashi would be dead.
"What's wrong, kid? Lost your courage already?" Kisame sneered, swinging Samehada lazily through the air. The blade's movement stirred small waves across the calm river beneath their feet. Everyone stood on the water — everyone except Trunks.
"That boy… he's not using chakra to stand on the water," Itachi noted quietly. "He's floating."
Even before his brutish partner could open his mouth, Itachi had already noticed the impossible. That speed… it wasn't teleportation. He moved purely through speed.
He analyzed the boy's stance, his breathing, his presence — and felt something deeply unsettling. Trunks wasn't afraid. He was restraining himself.
"You're not planning to run?" Kisame taunted, his voice deep and predatory. "Killing kids isn't really my thing, but if you insist…"
He hoisted Samehada onto his shoulder, crouching slightly, shark-like grin splitting his face. Everything about him screamed danger — nearly two meters tall, serrated teeth glinting like knives, a blade soaked in Asuma's blood. His small, bloodshot eyes gleamed with the hunger of a predator.
But Trunks didn't even flinch — eyes still closed, muscles coiled. That caught Itachi's attention.
"Why did Gai tell him to close his eyes?" Itachi thought. "He told the others to watch my feet, but this one… he reacts differently. He can feel us."
Every tiny movement of Itachi's body seemed to provoke a subtle reaction in the boy's energy. And as that realization sank in, the Uchiha's normally unreadable face went pale.
"Kisame… we're leaving."
His voice, normally calm and detached, held a faint, almost imperceptible edge. Even Kisame noticed — Itachi never sounded shaken.
"What are you talking about? You afraid of this brat?" Kisame laughed, flashing his teeth. "Relax, I'll slice the kid in half, then deal with the green idiot—"
"No." Itachi's black eyes met his, sharp and final. "If you attack that boy… you'll die."
For a moment, Kisame just stared at him — then burst out laughing. A wild, manic laugh that echoed across the river.
"Oh, come on, Itachi! You've got to be kidding me! That little punk? You think he could kill me? He'd be foaming at the mouth before I even blink!"
Itachi didn't answer. His eyes, now blazing red again, focused on Trunks — hovering just inches above the water, bathed in a faint golden aura. It was subtle, barely visible, but unmistakably real. A shield of energy surrounded him, distorting Itachi's vision, making it hard even for the Sharingan to lock onto him.
"I already tried," Itachi muttered after a moment. "Three genjutsu. None of them worked. The kid doesn't have chakra to manipulate…"
"What?" Kisame's grin faded & his composure cracked slightly. He flicked his gaze between Trunks and Itachi, disbelieving.
Trunks wasn't bluffing anymore. His energy was rising — fast. The air around him vibrated. Itachi's eyes darted to Samehada, and his suspicion was confirmed: the blade didn't react. Not a flicker. No hunger, no resonance. Nothing.
Even Kisame had fallen silent, unnerved by his partner's tone.
Asuma watched, cold sweat running down his back. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Itachi wasn't just smart — he was terrifyingly perceptive. He had pieced together what none of them could: the boy had no chakra at all. And yet he was standing against monsters like them.
"Well, well," Trunks smirked. "You're sharp — nothing like your dumb little brother."
He could feel a flicker of irritation from Itachi's chakra — barely there, but real. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but Trunks could sense it. Energy didn't lie.
"What's wrong? Did I say something you didn't like?"
Itachi, of course, didn't react. Words couldn't shake him. Their retreat was inevitable — or so he thought.
A subtle hand signal. Two fingers. We're leaving.
Kisame froze. He knew they had to go — the ANBU would be arriving any second — but the idea of retreating from a child was too much for his pride to take. Rage twisted his face, teeth grinding hard enough to draw blood.
"What the hell do you think you are, brat?! I WON'T LET SOME PUNK—"
BAAAAAM!
His words were cut short — literally — by Trunks' fist.
The entire river split in half. The impact tore the water apart, exposing the riverbed below as fish flopped helplessly in the air. The shockwave was monstrous.
Kisame never saw it coming. The blow hit with blinding speed, a thunderclap of golden light and crackling energy. Bones shattered with a sickening crunch as lightning-like ki exploded across his jaw.
A clean fracture — he'd be sipping through straws for a week.
It was over in less than a heartbeat.
Even Itachi's Sharingan barely followed the motion — and that realization chilled him. If Trunks had chosen him instead of Kisame, he might not have survived either.
BOOOOM!
The forest behind them erupted. Kisame's limp body tore through the trees like a cannonball, carving a deep trench through the ground before disappearing into a cloud of dust and splintered wood. Samehada, unbelievably, stayed clenched in his hand.
Itachi vanished, reappearing beside his fallen comrade to retrieve him before the ANBU arrived.
On the riverbank, Asuma and Kurenai leapt back for safety, while Gai lunged forward to catch the collapsing Kakashi before he drowned.
"Got you," Gai muttered as he landed on the shore, cradling Kakashi's limp body under one arm.
The river was still split down the middle, its muddy bottom exposed, fish wriggling desperately in the open air.
By the time the jōnin processed what had happened, it was already over.
"I couldn't follow him," Trunks said from above, his voice echoing through the mist. "He used the distraction to escape."
They looked where he pointed — a long barrier of black fire burned across the water, sealing off the path. Amaterasu. Trunks had dodged it just in time, taking to the air to avoid being swallowed by it.
With a deafening whoosh, the two halves of the river crashed back together, waves colliding and steaming as water met unquenchable flame.
"That guy's different," Trunks muttered. "Those flames came from nowhere — just one look, and they were there. And then… he vanished. Like he knew I could track him."
Unwilling to give up, he ascended higher, scanning the forest from above for any sign of them.
BAAM!
"AAARGH! DAMN IT! WHAT THE HELL—?!"
"OW, OW, MY HEAD!"
It was Goten — feeling the same disturbance as Trunks — who rushed to the scene. But since both were moving at ridiculous speed, they collided mid-air, headfirst, like a pair of complete idiots.
They hit the ground with a thud, limbs tangled, both clutching their heads in agony as they rolled on the dirt, eyes watering from the pain.
"Wha— what the hell's wrong with you, idiot?! Why'd you leave the hospital?!" Trunks snapped, sitting up abruptly and wiping the tears from his eyes with his forearm.
"I wanted to help! I could feel Kakashi-sensei's chakra disappearing!" Goten shot back, fists clenched — revealing a fresh bump on his head identical to Trunks's.
"Oh yeah? Well, you're late! If it depended on you, he'd already be minced meat!"
"I had to get dressed first! And I had to wait until Sakura left the hospital — I couldn't just jump out the window in front of her!"
Asuma had to cut in, voice sharp and commanding. "Enough. Now's not the time for this. We need to get Kakashi to the hospital — fast."
Without hesitation, Gai stepped forward, hoisting his unconscious rival into his arms and sprinting ahead to gain time.
Kurenai's gaze landed on Goten — she looked him up and down slowly, shaking her head, the same way a mother scolds a reckless son. She didn't even comment on his "resurrected" orange gi.
Goten just offered a weak, guilty smile. He knew he'd disobeyed his recovery orders.
Moments later, the ANBU arrived. Now came the mountain of paperwork — incident reports, witness debriefs, individual interrogations, and endless formalities.
Maybe Kakashi wasn't regretting things that much after all. Better to suffer under the Tsukuyomi than be awake for this bureaucratic nightmare.
News of Itachi Uchiha's return spread through the village like wildfire, leaving a bitter taste in the Hokage's mouth. Just as Jiraiya had warned him two days earlier — though neither of them expected it to happen so soon.
"The Fourth's legacy… that's what he told Kakashi before Trunks arrived," Asuma reported.
"We're not entirely sure what he meant by it," Kurenai added.
"I am," Sarutobi murmured, eyes half-lidded as he watched the smoke rings drift lazily from his pipe. He remembered his former student's warning — Akatsuki's ambitions could lead to nothing good. Bringing together that many S-class criminals for the purpose of harnessing the power of the jinchūriki… he didn't even want to imagine the horrors they might be after.
Realizing there was little point in further discussion, the Third Hokage dismissed them gently. "That will be all. I'll review the full reports myself."
Asuma and Kurenai bowed respectfully and left the office, heading straight to the hospital to check on Kakashi's condition.
Silence lingered for a few moments before Sarutobi spoke again.
"What do you make of all this?"
A shadow stirred at the back of the room — and Jiraiya stepped forward, having concealed his presence the entire time with the effortless stealth only a Sannin could manage.
"They're after Naruto," he said flatly. "My suspicions were right all along."
The Hokage nodded gravely. Two immensely powerful men had infiltrated the village's defenses without effort. If not for Kakashi's sharp instincts, things could have been far worse. But even so, the Copy Ninja had fallen in less than a second. Itachi's genjutsu was terrifying — no wonder he'd led the ANBU at thirteen.
And yet, that wasn't the only thing troubling them.
"Kisame Hoshigaki…" Sarutobi muttered. "The Monster of the Hidden Mist. Former member of the Seven Swordsmen, murderer of a feudal lord, listed in the Bingo Book…" He gave a dry chuckle and exhaled smoke through his nose. "And defeated — in one single punch — by a thirteen-year-old boy."
Jiraiya's expression hardened. Both men were thinking the same thing. What Asuma and Kurenai described sounded almost impossible — except they knew who the boy was. Even if they hadn't seen it themselves, they understood that if Trunks had truly wanted to, Kisame wouldn't have survived. A little more ki, and that S-rank shinobi's head would've been scattered across the forest floor.
"This won't end well," Sarutobi sighed. "Itachi's a genius. He'll have learned more than enough to report back to Akatsuki."
He set his pipe aside and rubbed his temples, the fatigue in his body weighing heavier by the day. Ever since his fight with Orochimaru, he had known it — he wasn't the same man anymore. His time was drawing to an end.
"Jiraiya," he said quietly, "I've decided to retire. I want you to take my place — as the Fifth Hokage."
"WHAT did you just say?"
Jiraiya's composure shattered. He blinked, certain he'd misheard — until the Hokage repeated it, calm and unwavering.
"I'm too old to keep doing this," Sarutobi said, smiling bitterly. "This body is worn out. I can't protect the village the way I used to. Orochimaru wasn't wrong about that. But it's not about giving up — it's about responsibility. I owe it to the people of Konoha to choose someone who can defend them. And right now, that person is you."
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "Let's be honest, Jiraiya — your power surpasses mine now. You could face Orochimaru properly, maybe even defeat him. And if Akatsuki's members are anything like him — or stronger — Konoha needs a Hokage who can meet that threat head-on."
Jiraiya sighed. He couldn't deny it. Sarutobi was right — painfully right.
"And what about you?" he asked softly. "You'd just… step down?"
"Not entirely. I'd join the council with Homura and Koharu. My voice would still carry weight in major decisions — but you would have the final word." The old man gave a faint, knowing smile.
Jiraiya hesitated. The idea made sense — two Hokage in one village, one guiding from the shadows. And beyond that, their bond as master and student still ran deep.
"The problem is…" Jiraiya turned toward the balcony, hands laced behind his head, eyes on the sprawling village below. "I don't think I'm cut out for that role — no matter what you believe."
He paused, a small grin tugging at his lips. "But I do know someone who'd be perfect for it. Maybe even better than me."
Sarutobi blinked, trying to guess — but Jiraiya's next words caught him completely off guard.
"You haven't figured it out yet? I'm talking about the other Sannin."
"Tsunade?" Sarutobi nearly shot up from his chair, slamming his hand on the desk. "We don't even know where she is!"
"Don't worry — I'll find her," Jiraiya said confidently. "She's got the strength and the brains for the job. Always has." His expression softened as old memories surfaced.
The Hokage paced the room for a few moments, deep in thought, before exhaling heavily and turning to face him.
"Then let me assign a few ANBU hunters to accompany you—"
"What? You think I'm going to run away?" Jiraiya interrupted with a laugh, that old mischievous spark returning to his eyes. "Relax, I'll bring Tsunade back — no matter what it takes. I just need one travel companion, that's all."
"Only one?"
"Yeah," he said with a smirk. "A kid — a bit clumsy, loud, hyperactive… but we get along just fine."
Seventh Universe.
It had only been three miserable days since the news, and Goku already thought he was going to starve to death.
Chi-Chi was that furious — she'd kicked him out of the bedroom and forced him to sleep on the tiny, lumpy sofa in the living room until he brought Goten back home.
"G-good morning, Chi-Chi," Goku greeted timidly, still lying awkwardly on the couch, one leg dangling off the side because it was too small for him.
"Hmph." That was all she said — the same cold response she'd been giving for the past three days. She walked straight into the kitchen to make her breakfast, deliberately turning her head away so she wouldn't have to meet Goku's nervous gaze.
To be fair, Chi-Chi wasn't wrong — Goku really had a knack for screwing things up throughout his life. And she didn't hesitate even a bit when she kicked him out of the bedroom — even though just a few days earlier, their nights had been… fiery, in ways they hadn't been for years. Her pride and dignity were stronger than any passion. After all, one of their sons was involved.
"Man, how long is Chi-Chi gonna stay mad? I told her it'd only be four months…" he muttered, rubbing his rumbling stomach as he sat up, trying to peek over the back of the couch toward the kitchen. The smell of breakfast was driving him crazy. Worst part was, he'd spent the past few days eating whatever he could catch in the mountains.
Goku was never picky about food, but after so many years of being spoiled by Chi-Chi's incredible cooking, everything he grilled himself over a campfire tasted awful — to be blunt, like absolute crap.
Knock, knock, knock!
Someone was at the door. Both of them froze — it was barely 7 a.m., and they lived in the middle of a mountain. Goku and Chi-Chi exchanged a quick, confused look.
Knock, knock, knock!
"Honestly, Whis! If they don't open this door in three seconds, I'll blow it down and take the planet with it!"
That voice! Goku nearly jumped — it was Beerus. But right after the shock, a wave of excitement washed over him. Maybe Beerus had changed his mind and was going to take him and Goten much sooner than expected.
The Saiyan ran to the door, not even caring that he was only wearing a pair of light-blue boxers as pajamas.
"Lord Beerus! What a pleasant surprise!" he exclaimed, flinging the door open — startling both Beerus and Whis, who blinked at his… questionable attire. Even Whis didn't bother sneaking his usual amused glance.
"Hello, Son Goku," the feline deity greeted with his sharp-toothed grin — finally remembering the name of the one who'd given him a few rather entertaining battles. "As you can see, I've returned earlier than planned — I remembered something important I had to take care of."
"Didn't you say you were bored because there was nothing interesting in the Western Galaxy?" Whis asked politely.
"I never said that!" Beerus snapped, fist in the air and a faint blush on his cheeks — making Whis take a small step back with a knowing smile, hands raised innocently.
But truth be told… that was the case. The planets they'd visited were all a disappointment — barren, lifeless, and utterly boring. He'd destroyed most of them out of sheer frustration. The few that did have living beings weren't worth blowing up; their people were far too peaceful and well-behaved — practically saints.
So, the God of Destruction came up with a far more entertaining idea — one he planned to discuss with Goku and Vegeta.
"I hope you're not too busy," Beerus said with an oddly amused tone, standing on tiptoe to peek over Goku's shoulder into the tiny house, clearly unimpressed by its size. "I've got an interesting proposition for you — though I'd prefer to talk about it in front of Vegeta as well."
"A proposition?" Goku blinked, unsure what to expect. Beerus was so unpredictable, it could mean anything.
"Yes — a training proposition." Beerus smiled, pleased to see the way that single word lit up the Saiyan's entire face. His black eyes gleamed like a child's at a festival. "I just hope they've got plenty of pudding over at his place. I'm starving."
The sun blazed brilliantly, its golden light washing over a sea of flowers that blanketed a lush green meadow stretching into rolling hills that faded beyond the horizon. The wind was gentle—warm yet cool—and it brushed softly across the vivid greenery of this magnificent landscape, so breathtaking it seemed to belong to a world beyond the real one.
Birds offered their melodies freely to every living being lucky enough to exist in such beauty—a place lost in time, untouched by hunger or sorrow, by cold or heat, by rain or drought.
A tiny bear cub banged enthusiastically on a drum, stumbling adorably with every strike of its little paws. Beside it, a small white rabbit played a trumpet, keeping pace with puppies and kittens who joined in with flutes, mandolins, and violins.
Butterflies of every color fluttered through the air, while tiny fairies giggled and joked as they danced around, delighted by the heart-melting concert of the woodland creatures. It was the kind of scene so sweet it could make you vomit a rainbow.
Everything was simply perfect. Which is to say—it was hell.
In the center of that idyllic field stood a single, massive tree. Beneath its broad, comforting shade came faint cries of torment—agonized wails that clashed brutally with the endless joy of the place, where its innocent residents never stopped laughing, jumping, playing, or singing.
"NOOOO!"
The wretched soul screamed in terror, jolting awake from yet another nightmare—one of millions that tormented him for eternity—only to fall into another: the ceaseless, syrupy concert of cuteness around him.
He couldn't move. His body was pinned to the trunk of the tree, wrapped almost completely in a disgusting cocoon—identical to the ones Majin Buu used to trap his victims.
Only his face was visible—twisted in terror, drenched in cold sweat, veins pulsing across his temples as his head strained against the slimy mass encasing him.
When he wasn't suffering brutal nightmares of being slaughtered, dismembered, mutilated, or vaporized by Saiyans, he was forced to endure—upon waking—the unbearable, never-ending cheer of those fairy-tale creatures.
He deserved it. In fact, the punishment was too merciful.
Frieza had always been a bastard.
Years had passed since the death of the galactic tyrant, yet traces of his vast empire still lingered across the universe. On one of the countless worlds once conquered by the Planetary Trade Organization, a rebellion had erupted. The planet's inhabitants rose up, and what little remained of Frieza's army was steadily losing ground on the battlefield.
News of the uprising reached Sorbet—the officer who had assumed control of the empire after Frieza's demise. His immediate orders were to send reinforcements to the front. The problem was, there were few nearby troops; most were spread thin across distant planets, and it would take days for them to arrive.
"Damn it!" Sorbet hissed, slumping into the grand chair that once belonged to his late master. His nerves were shot, his fingers drumming restlessly against the armrest. "Looks like we have no choice… we'll have to go to Earth." He turned toward Tagoma—his tall, stoic right-hand man—who stood at attention among the other soldiers, awaiting orders. "Hey, Tagoma! Prepare a ship for the two of us. We're taking a little trip to Earth."
The lanky soldier blinked, surprised. His new-model scouter—covering both eyes like a sleek pair of goggles—flashed faintly."Sir, you mean you'll be going in person?"
"Of course," Sorbet replied with a wicked grin. "I will be the one to bring Lord Frieza back to life!"
The journey was swift—just a few days before the two aliens reached Earth. Suddenly, the planet's sky went dark, without warning or reason. There was only one possible explanation.
At that very moment, Gohan was walking through Mr. Satan's garden with Videl and their baby in his arms, trying to hand the child off to Piccolo—who flatly refused. The Namekian wasn't about to take chances; the last thing he wanted was to end up raising another Earthling kid.
"No way!" Gohan gasped, looking up at the darkened sky as he handed the baby back to Videl.
"It's Shenron… but where? That's impossible!" Piccolo's voice trembled as cold sweat ran down his forehead. He suddenly remembered—those brats had summoned the dragon recently to ask for two wishes. They'd sent Shenron away before using the last one! Someone must have gathered the Dragon Balls again and claimed the remaining wish. Once that happened, the orbs would vanish for an entire Namekian year.
Across the world, the other Z Fighters noticed it too. Tien and Chiaotzu stared silently at the dark sky, while Krillin—now working as a police officer—was in the middle of writing a ticket for a speeding motorcyclist. He barely glanced upward and muttered, "Probably Pilaf again," before returning to his work.
And, well… he wasn't wrong.
"NOW, TELL ME—WHAT IS YOUR WISH? WHAT SHALL I MAKE REAL?"
The thunderous voice of the Eternal Dragon echoed through the land.
"I–in one piece, sir!" The pitiful villain gestured nervously to the two aliens, indicating the Dragon Balls were theirs to command.
"B-but, Lord Pilaf!" Mai protested, her young face scrunching in disbelief. "After all that work gathering them, you're just giving them away?"
"Quiet, Mai!" Pilaf hissed, terrified. He, Mai, and Shu were still stuck in their childlike bodies. "We'd be idiots to stand in their way. We have no choice."
Sorbet and Tagoma were speechless. The dragon's presence was… overwhelming.
"L-Lord Frieza… I want you to revive Lord Frieza!" Sorbet finally shouted, his trembling voice breaking through the tension.
Shenron fell silent for several long seconds that felt like hours.
"THE SOUL OF THE ONE CALLED FRIEZA LIES IN HELL," the dragon rumbled, "BUT HIS BODY WAS SCATTERED INTO PIECES AFTER HIS DEATH. IF I BRING HIM BACK, HE WILL RETURN IN MANY PARTS."
"What!? I didn't think of that!" Sorbet's composure vanished instantly. His blue skin turned pale as panic seized him. "Damn it, that ruins everything. We need to think!"
"Sir," Tagoma said calmly, "even if his body is in pieces, we might be able to reconstruct it using the regeneration chambers from the army."
Sorbet's eyes lit up. Of course—Tagoma's unflappable logic was why he was the second-in-command.
"You're right! All that matters is bringing him back. We can handle the rest later. Hey, you!" he barked at Shenron, pointing a trembling finger. "I don't care if he's in pieces—just revive him!"
A drop of sweat slid down Shenron's enormous face. It had been a long time since he'd heard such a ridiculous wish. Not since that pig had once asked for a pair of panties.
"…Very well," the dragon said finally. "If that is your wish, I shall grant it."
His crimson eyes glowed, and out of nowhere, chunks of flesh appeared—slamming wetly against the rocky ground.
The pieces twitched faintly, as though still alive.
Pilaf and his gang screamed and clung to each other, nearly fainting as the bloody chunks fused together—forming the vague shape of a body—only to fall apart again moments later, lifeless.
Frieza was astonishing. Even in that condition, he was alive, struggling to reassemble himself. His species' resilience was beyond comprehension—he seemed to lack any true vital organs, or perhaps they simply refused to die.
"Incredible," Sorbet muttered, kneeling to pick up one small fragment that fit easily in his palm. He began to laugh—a sharp, manic laugh filled with triumph. "With this level of vitality and our medical technology, we can bring him fully back. There's no doubt about it!"
The event didn't go unnoticed. Across the planet, the Z Fighters felt the sickening, unmistakable presence of Frieza. Gohan's hands trembled with fury, while Piccolo could only grit his teeth, haunted by a dreadful premonition.
But it was too late to act. The sky quickly cleared again—signaling that Shenron had vanished—and with him, Frieza's aura faded from the world.
Sorbet and Tagoma gathered the remains, sealed them inside a cylindrical stasis capsule to preserve what life was left, and immediately departed in their two-seat ship.
Their plan was finally in motion.
The resurrection of the great and terrible Lord Frieza… had begun.
Back aboard the massive spaceship, the soldiers waited anxiously for the moment their leader would awaken. The restoration process was nothing like the mechanical reconstruction the tyrant once underwent after Namek's explosion—no, this was something entirely different. A large cylindrical tank, filled with a glowing green liquid, carried out the work, monitored constantly by the ship's engineers.
It resembled the rejuvenation chambers once used by Frieza's army to heal injured soldiers—the same type Vegeta and even Goku had used long ago. But years of technological progress had made this new regeneration pod vastly superior.
In a short time, Frieza's body was nearly complete. The small fragments of flesh fused together, piece by piece, rebuilding what had once been destroyed.
Behind those still-closed eyelids, his eyes twitched relentlessly—a sure sign that his mind was active, tormented once again by endless nightmares.
"FOOL!" Goku's voice echoed in his mind—Super Saiyan, glowing gold, shouting in fury as he hurled back the desperate energy blast Frieza had fired while cut in half, a final act of treachery.
Goku had even given him some of his own energy—enough to survive, enough to escape—but the stubborn tyrant had used it for one last attack instead. His face twisted in horror as the Saiyan's blinding ki swallowed him whole, consuming his body in a massive explosion that left him adrift and unconscious until the planet itself was obliterated.
"I… I am the greatest in the universe… that's why I can't die…" None of the waiting soldiers could possibly imagine the storm of hatred and humiliation raging in Frieza's mind. His thirst for revenge was maddening. He wanted to wake up and destroy those damned Saiyans—their planet, their lineage—everything. "I can't be defeated by someone like you… I should've been the one to kill you!"
His eyes snapped open. A surge of immense, monstrous energy erupted from within him. The entire ship trembled, the hull groaning under the sheer pressure, nearly thrown off course as the surrounding void shuddered.
The soldiers clung to whatever they could, but the shaking was so violent that many were flung into walls and floors, their scouters shattering as they tried to read the impossible power level flooding the ship. Even those nowhere near the lab could tell—their emperor had awakened.
CRAAAACK!
The tank's glass could no longer withstand the pressure. It exploded in a thousand shards, and the green regenerative fluid poured out like a wave, splashing across the metallic floor and drenching the nearby soldiers—including Sorbet and Tagoma.
And there he stood—Lord Frieza—fully restored in his first form, radiating unholy menace.
It was hard to believe that someone so small could be so terrifying, yet the evil burning in his gaze left no doubt. His very expression was that of a devil reborn—pure wrath and hatred incarnate.
He placed a hand behind his neck and tilted his head side to side, cracking it loudly. The sound echoed through the stunned silence of the room. No one dared move. Many soldiers had only ever heard his name, and now, faced with him in person, they froze in awe and dread.
"W-welcome back, my lord…"
"Hmm?" Frieza turned his piercing gaze toward the trembling blue alien who had spoken. "And you are…?"
"I-I'm Sorbet, sir. I was an officer from the Third Solar Squad. D-don't you remember me?"
He didn't answer right away—nor did he seem to care. His eyes wandered lazily across the room.
"Yes… Now that you mention it, I think I do." He finally looked down at his hands, opening and closing them a few times. A sinister smirk crept across his face as satisfaction flickered in his crimson eyes.
"Heh heh heh… it seems I've returned to life."
"Yes! Thanks to the Dragon Balls and our regeneration systems—"
"Dragon Balls?" Frieza's tone sharpened as he crossed his hands behind his back. His arrogance filled the room like a poison. "Ah yes… those mystical orbs from Namek…"
"My lord," another soldier stepped forward. "I am Tagoma—the one who also aided in your resurrection."
"That's right!" Sorbet added quickly. "Tagoma is one of our finest warriors—his power rivals that of Zarbon or Dodoria."
They were desperate to please him, hoping to earn gratitude, a promotion, anything.
"Good for him," Frieza replied flatly. His gaze drifted past them to a lone soldier standing silently at the far end of the chamber.
BAAM!
A flash of purple light cut through the air—so fast no one even saw him move.
Sorbet and Tagoma turned slowly, faces pale with horror. The soldier lay slumped against the wall, a smoking hole in his skull, crimson splattered across the steel behind him.
"It seems my aim is a little rusty," Frieza said casually, rolling his wrist as though testing it. "Ah… it's been too long since I've savored the feeling of revenge."
"R-revenge?"
"Of course." His eyes narrowed, glowing with wicked delight. "Did you think I'd simply wake up and retire? I intend to destroy those two Super Saiyans—and this time, I won't stop until they're gone."
Goku wasn't the only one haunting his dreams. That boy—the one with the sword—the one who had sliced him to pieces on Earth… Frieza didn't even know his name, but that cold, confident smile was burned into his memory forever.
"With all due respect, my lord," Tagoma said carefully, "perhaps it would be wiser to rest and rebuild your forces. Otherwise… things might end the same way they did before."
BAAM!
Frieza's finger glowed once again. The blast pierced Tagoma's chest, sending him crashing through the reinforced wall and out into the void of space.
A deafening alarm filled the room as the vacuum began pulling soldiers toward the breach. Some were sucked out screaming, while others barely managed to cling to the floor or grab onto railings.
Only Frieza stood unaffected, hands clasped behind his back, calmly watching the chaos as though it were a pleasant breeze.
"Th-the shield! Activate the shield!" Sorbet shouted.
The emergency barrier engaged with a loud metallic thud, restoring pressure and gravity. Soldiers dropped to the floor, gasping and coughing.
"Pathetic," Frieza muttered. "So this is what my army has become in my absence—cowards and incompetents." His gaze swept over them with icy contempt. "Since when do my soldiers fear Saiyans?"
"B-but, my lord," Sorbet stammered, "the Saiyan called Son Goku—after your death, he… well…"
"What? Became stronger?"
"Y-yes," Sorbet admitted, clutching his chest. "He defeated Majin Buu. Beyond that, we have no further data on his power."
"I see…" Frieza began to pace slowly, expression unreadable. "My father warned me about only two beings—Lord Beerus, the God of Destruction… and Majin Buu. And you're telling me that Goku defeated one of them."
Sorbet exhaled, thinking for a moment that maybe—just maybe—his lord had come to his senses.
Then Frieza chuckled. Softly at first, then louder, crueler.
"Well then… this just got interesting."
Sorbet froze. His blood ran cold as Frieza turned, smiling from ear to ear with that same unholy grin.
"I was born a prodigy," Frieza said. "I never needed to train. I was already too powerful to bother. But imagine… just imagine what would happen if I did train. If I pushed myself—if I unlocked every ounce of potential I have."
It wasn't impossible to imagine. Goku, born a low-class Saiyan with pitiful strength, had become one of the strongest beings in existence through sheer training and determination. What would happen if someone like Frieza decided to do the same?
"Y-you really think you can become even stronger?" Sorbet stuttered.
"Oh, I don't think—I know." A dark aura flared around Frieza, glowing purple and menacing. He clenched his fists, his laughter echoing through the ship. "This is my prophecy! In just four months of training, I'll crush those two Saiyans like the insects they are!"
Frieza had returned.And his ultimate revenge was now in motion.