As I gaze into the vastness of dark space, I can't help but wonder—where did it all go wrong? After Goku died from the heart virus, everything fell apart. Humanity was almost wiped out by Androids 17 and 18. Even after I sent Trunks to the past, nothing changed for our timeline. All we did was create another one.
To be fair, Trunks did gain something from his journey. Training with Vegeta made him stronger—strong enough to finally destroy the androids in our timeline. He even spoke of a monster called Cell, a creature destined to kill him in yet another future. Trunks cut that fate short before it could reach us, and for a while, I allowed myself to believe our suffering had finally bought us a happy ending.
But happy endings never last. Instead of peace, Trunks soon found himself facing an alien wizard named Babidi. A being who called himself Kaiōshin sacrificed his life to prevent Majin Buu from awakening. They won that battle, yes, but at a terrible cost. Gohan, Trunks' mentor, had already fallen to the androids—and now even a god had laid down his life for our future. Trunks smiled when he returned, trying to hide it, but I could see the truth. The weight of it all—the guilt, the anger—was eating him alive. And all I could do was stand by, support him, and pray that time might heal wounds I knew would never truly close.
Today was supposed to be ordinary. Peaceful. For the first time in years, I thought we were safe. But then he appeared—wearing the face of someone I loved. From his demeanor alone, I knew it wasn't Goku. My gut screamed the truth: this thing strangling me was something else entirely.
His hand closed around my throat, and I found myself torn—did I want Trunks to save me, or to run? My heart knew the answer: this stranger was a threat to my son. I wasn't a fighter. I didn't need to be one to feel how wrong it was, how much stronger he seemed than any enemy Trunks had faced. In the end, I died with regret in my heart, wondering—if I had acted sooner, if I had chosen to fight from the beginning, would it have changed anything? Or was this path always inevitable?
Then came the voice. It shook the emptiness around me, deep yet strangely childish, godlike and detached:
"Is that truly what you believe, mortal? Very well. I shall grant your wish—and I will enjoy watching the path you walk. Will you give your best, or falter once you realize you can never match a Saiyan? I am curious to see how you face that dilemma… after all, even the mighty Saiyans could not overcome it. Not Trunks. Not even Goku."
The voice faded, leaving me adrift in silence. I almost convinced myself I had imagined it—until my eyes opened.
I was home. My old home. The calendar on the wall told me everything: two years before Raditz would arrive on Earth.
This time, I would not stand idle. I would not wait for fate to decide everything for me. Even if I had to learn how to fight, even if it killed me, I would be more than just a bystander.
I am Bulma, and I will carve a new path for the future—one where it will not end as it did before.