I woke up, floating, weightless, with a soft pressure of warm liquid against my skin and a feeding mask sitting over my mouth, it was also delivering air for me to breathe. My eyes opened slowly. My mind was still used to having such a small body. The first thing I saw was pink. My incubator had a pink casing, everything around it was steel and dim light and the dull glow of instruments, so the pink stood out. I didn't hate it. It was… honestly kind of comforting. A small, stupid splash of color in a room where I'd probably spend too much time thinking and to myself, cause well still too small to be set free.
My second thought was my tail. It floated behind me in the liquid like it had a mind of its own. Soft and brown, and looked like it belonged on a plush toy. I stared at it for a long second, then reached back with both hands and grabbed it.
Instant regret. The second my fingers closed around it, my whole body reacted like I'd pulled a plug. A wave of dizziness hit me so hard my eyes went unfocused. My stomach rolled. The world tilted. My grip tightened on instinct, and the feeling got worse. I held on anyway. Because as much as I hated it, I hated the idea of being helpless even more, this was a weakness best trained now than later. The one saiyans' obvious weakness.
So I squeezed, and my vision blurred, and my limbs went heavy, and the black edge of passing out started creeping in. I fought it the way you fight sleep in class. The way you fight the last rep at the gym. The way you fight the urge to quit after losing every match in a game. Then I lost, and the darkness swallowed me.
When I came back, my eyes fluttered open. My hands were loose again. My tail drifted free as if nothing happened. I frowned at it. "Again," I thought, and grabbed it again. I didn't last long, but that didnt matter, as the pod would keep me alive, feed me, so it didnt matter if I was awake or not. The staff checked on us in rotations, at least that's what I noticed as the days dragged on.
I'd learned my name from one of them. "Celera," he'd muttered, tapping something on the side of my pod. Celera. I liked it. Most days, that was the only "conversation" I got. So I trained. Tail training wasn't the only thing I tried, either. When I wasn't squeezing myself into unconsciousness, I tried the other thing I'd always imagined would be cool. Meditation.
The first time I tried it, I crossed my little legs in the liquid, well, as much as you can cross legs when you're floating, and I closed my eyes trying to concentrate. I got maybe thirty seconds of "I'm doing it, I'm doing it—"
And then I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was annoyed with myself for a full five seconds before I remembered I was literally a baby and maybe expecting enlightenment on my first attempt was a little ambitious. I tried again and fell asleep again. At some point, I accepted that my body was going to take "quiet and still" as permission to power down, and honestly, I couldn't even blame it. The pod was warm. The world outside was muffled. And I was in a room full of babies.
I couldn't "practice talking." I couldn't walk. I couldn't throw punches or kicks. I couldn't do anything. So I did what I could, tail training, failed at meditation, and repeat. Between attempts, I stared out through the curved glass and watched the chamber, for the next few months, though I did lose track after a while.
The room was huge, and the layout was burned into my mind by now. Rows of incubators. The bottom level was packed. So many pods down there, mostly yellow-lit. Low-class babies, if I had to guess. The ones nobody expected miracles from. The ones who'd probably get tossed into the grinder early, that was a bit sad.
Above them was my level, the second row. More space. Better equipment, from what I could tell. Cleaner and with fewer pods, but each one more cared for, in a cold. Elite-class babies. And then the third level, like it was its own little stage. One pod up there, glowing red, set apart. Even from where I floated, I could see how different it was. Not just the color. The way the staff moved around it was more carefully. Royal, most likely, but who could it even be? A prince or princess incubator.
I stared at it a lot. And if I was going to live in this world, really live here, and not just survive, I needed to understand who the important pieces were. My old life felt far away sometimes. Like a dream that kept getting a bit fuzzy. Well, only the small stuff, the things about my first year in school. Those memories were mine, and cleared up when I let myself focus. I did miss my parents, not thatI'dd be able to see them, and then Týr's voice in the gray, telling me they lived.
I was going to be strong enough that I would change the story. Cannon be dawned and all. I'd change things for the better. Saiyan baby me just clenched a fist in the liquid and stared at the world. Sometimes, when the boredom got heavy, I imagined what it would feel like to actually throw a punch with this body. I wanted to fight, fighting here was the language of living. It was how you proved yourself. How you sharpened yourself. How did you find out what you were made of?
Time passed in a strange way inside a pod. I didn't have clocks. I measured days by staff rotations. At some point, the staff came through and adjusted my feeding mask. One of them did it without even looking at my face, like he was fixing a tube. Another glanced at me and actually smirked, just a little. Like he'd seen my vitals spike and drop over and over again from the tail thing. "Heh," he muttered. "Stubborn."
The day the important visitors showed up, I knew something was different before I even saw them. The room energy shifted. The staff moved quicker, straighter. The background noise of little machines and quiet footsteps went quieter. I stopped squeezing my tail and let it float free, eyes locked on the chamber beyond my pod. Then the doors opened. Two figures walked in. I recognized them immediately, Bardock and Gine; this more or less told me where I was in the timeline.
Bardock moved his steps were heavy and confident. He wore standard Saiyan armor, dark plates, yellow accents, and a blue bodysuit underneath. His face had scars. Gine walked beside him, smaller, lighter in posture. There was a steadiness to her. She wore armor too, slimmer and fitted for her frame. Her hair fell just past her shoulders, messy like she didn't care much about it.
Her eyes were what made me pause. She looked around the room the way a normal person might look at a room full of babies. With soft attention. It was strange to see in a place like this. They stopped at a pod a little way away from mine. I followed their gaze and felt the little click of recognition in my brain. That baby… spiky hair even in the fluid. The shape of his face. Raditz, Goku's older brother. It was honestly surreal seeing him like that. How was I so blind that I didnt notice right away? Well, to be fair, I wasnt really focused on looking at the other babies.
Bardock leaned closer to the glass, looking like he was trying to decide if the kid was going to be someone in the future. "Growing fast," he said, voice low and rough. Gine nodded, her hand resting lightly on the edge of the pod like she wanted to touch without disrupting anything. "He's healthy," she said. "Look at him." Bardock made a noise that might've been agreement. "He'll be a warrior."
Gine's mouth curved, small and proud. "He'll be whatever he becomes. He'll have a chance." Bardock snorted, but there was something in it that wasn't mockery. "You always talk like that."
"And you always act like the world only understands fists," she replied, gentle but firm. Bardock's eyes flicked to her, and for a second his hard face eased. Not much. Just enough that you could tell he wasn't angry. "It mostly does." Gine didn't argue. She just looked at their son again, and the expression on her face was so normal it made my chest ache. So that's what it looks like, I thought. When someone gives a damn about their kids in this world.
I didn't know who my parents were in this life, not really. I knew I was elite-class. Which meant they were likely strong, well, strong for a world like this. But watching Bardock and Gine, I understood something. I was going to be part of the main story. Well, a version of it.
Gine turned slightly, her gaze drifting across the second level. She looked over the elite pods, her eyes pausing here and there, like she was curious about the other babies.
Then her eyes caught mine. For a second, we just looked at each other through the glass and the liquid. And she smiled, just a soft little smile. So I did the only thing I could, I stared back. Bardock noticed her pause and followed her gaze, briefly scanning the pods. His eyes landed on mine. That was a different feeling. Assessing. Like he was looking at a weapon he might one day fight beside… or against.
Then he looked away like it wasn't important. Gine lingered a moment longer, then turned back to Raditz. "We should go," she said softly. "Before the staff gets irritated."
"They'll live," Bardock muttered. But he stepped back anyway. Gine gave Raditz one more look, then they left. I floated there for a long time afterward, staring at the space they'd been. If someone like Gine could exist here, there had to be others, right, ones worth saving?
I grabbed my tail again and passed out a minute later. Later, how much later, I couldn't tell, but the mood in the chamber shifted again.
This time, it wasn't warmth. It was pressure. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room, slow and deliberate. The staff straightened like they were being watched. I turned in my pod, liquid swirling around me, and watched the entrance. King Vegeta walked into the room. He was clad in royal armor with gold accents. A red cape hung from his shoulders, moving with him as he strode forward. His eyes were cold and bright, scanning the chamber.
Guards followed, armored and stiff. "Make way!" one of them barked, loud enough to make even a Saiyan nursery move towards the wall as they bowed. King Vegeta didn't acknowledge any of it. He moved straight for the stairs, towards the third level. Towards the red incubator.
My gaze followed him automatically, because no matter how much I told myself don't get distracted, this was history walking right in front of my face. He climbed, cape swaying, and reached the single red pod. So that had to be Prince Vegeta. The scientists activated the pod systems, and the red incubator hummed to life, numbers and readings flashing across panels. A device beeped as it measured the baby's power level.
"Four hundred fifty," I heard one of them say. The reactions were subtle. Was that number high for a kid? I honestly was sure, I know it was higher than Goku thats for sure. I didn't have the full chart in my head. I didn't remember exactly what Raditz had as a kid. I just knew 450 sounded… impressive for a baby. King Vegeta's mouth tightened with satisfaction, like that number confirmed what he already believed: that his bloodline was superior.
He stayed up there a moment longer, looking down at the red pod like he was staring at the future. Then he turned and started down. And that's when my attention sharpened, because he wasn't going straight to the exit. He was scanning the second level as he descended.
King Vegeta stopped partway down, gaze moving over the elite pods, one by one.
Likely making sure another Broly didnt appear. Then his eyes landed on mine.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the fine lines on his face, the slight sneer that lived there. He stared at my pod, and I honestly got a little scared. This man had power. Real power. The kind that could end my life without effort. My mind knew it. My instincts knew it too, even in a baby's body. King Vegeta's voice cut through the quiet. "What is this child's name?"
A scientist hurried over, hands moving quickly over my pod's control panel. "Her name is Celera, your majesty." King Vegeta made a sound, half interest, half impatience, and pulled out a scouter. He pressed it against the pod's outer casing, and the room filled with quiet beeping. I stared back at him, refusing to look away. Not because I wasnt scare, no i really was. But I'd keep moving forward even in the presence of fear. The beeping slowed and then stopped.
King Vegeta's face shifted in mild irritation, as the number annoyed him personally.
"Hm," he said. "Four hundred twenty." My mind took the number and filed it away instantly. So I was strong, hell yeah. He kept staring, and I held his gaze still. Then he spoke again, voice flat with calculation. "Lucky it's a girl." And just like that, the tension that had coiled in my chest loosened, not in relief, but in understanding.
So that was the rule. If I were a boy with this number, maybe he'd see me as a threat to his precious prince. But since I was a girl, then I was… what? A potential asset. A strong bride? Something that wouldn't challenge the line of succession. King Vegeta turned away as if I'd already stopped being interesting. His cape swung as he walked down the last steps. I watched him go, my mind racing. He wasnt some villain, well, not in the normal sense. He was a man protecting his position. And while I didn't respect him for it, I could understand it. As he left, I stared up at the red incubator again. Prince Vegeta was already here, which meant he was likely older than me, which also meant Broly was gone.
I didn't know what kind of person he'd become. I didn't know what kind of monster the world would force him into. But I knew one thing, plain and simple, if I ever met him… I didn't want him to be alone. The chamber settled after King Vegeta left, as everyone exhaled at once.
And so the years moved on, and I was bored out of my mind. Beyond the information that was shown to me, it did help me learn the Galactic Common as well as basic information about the Frieza Force. I have been floating in warm gel for three years, and if I don't get out soon, I'm going to start biting the inside of my own mask out of spite. Vegeta had been pulled out last year already. Which meant that Raditz and I were at least a year younger than him.
My tail was coiled around my waist like a belt. After training for so long with it, it seemed like my smart cells finally got the message, to the point that I could hold it with some strength and not pass out for at least 30 mins. That alone felt like a win. Three years ago, even brushing it the wrong way could've dropped me.
I turned my head, gel sloshing gently as I shifted, and watched a pod open two rows down. The glass slid aside, a mid-level technician stepped up, checked the readout, and reached in. A little boy sat inside, blinking like he'd been yanked out of a dream. "Up," he said, voice plain. The kid hesitated, then obeyed. I watched the tech lift him out and set him on the floor. The boy's feet wobbled for half a second, then steadied. The tech dressed him in a combat suit, dark fabric, simple plates, nothing fancy.
"Come on," he said. The boy glanced back at the pod, then followed him out. I floated there watching them leave. My hands were bigger now than they used to be. Stronger. When I pushed against the gel, I could feel the resistance, and my muscles responded the way they were supposed to. I couldn't sense ki, at least not very far away yet. I could feel my own ki, and at least around, I think 80 feet around me.
The last time a tech checked my pod's readout, I caught the number before he could angle the screen away. 2,200. He did look shocked. He just made a note and walked off. Which told me everything. They'd already decided what I was. If being called Super elite wasnt enough of a tell.
I stared up through the gel toward the ceiling, where the lights sat behind protective glass, and tried to keep my thoughts calm. I just wanted out of this cage already. A few minutes later, I heard the door. Voices came in clearer than usual; maybe the smart atoms increased my hearing?
Gine and two more sets of footsteps followed. One of them was Bardock. His voice was rough, and I don't think I could ever forget what he sounded like. The other one, I didnt know who they were, besides the fact that it was clearly female. The voices moved deeper into the ward, and I watched through my pod as they walked between rows. Raditz was with them too, already out of his pod and dressed. He walked like he owned the floor, chin up. I must have been asleep when they took him out. Gine smoothed his hair, Raditz puffed his chest.
"Five hundred seventeen," Bardock muttered, glancing at his scouter. Raditz's eyes went bright at that number. He didn't even try to hide it. "Good," Bardock said. Gine's lips curved. "Im sure he will become a fine warrior," she said. The other female Saiyan made a sound that could've been a laugh. "Still ugly," she teased Raditz.
Raditz jerked up like he'd been insulted at the highest level. "I'm not ugly!" Bardock snorted once. Raditz looked like he wanted to argue, then caught Bardock's expression and shut up. As they climbed the steps to the second floor, their path lined up as they made their way to my pod. The female Saiyan's eyes landed on it first. She paused like she was checking the tag to confirm the number. Gine looked at me right after, and her expression changed just a little.
Bardock's gaze hit my pod. They approached, and the closer they got, she stepped up right in front of my pod. Her scouter clicked once as she looked at the monitor. "Two thousand two hundred," she said out loud. Gine's brows lifted. "That's… high." Bardock's mouth barely moved. "Good numbers."
Her eyes shifted to mine, up close, she looked… really pretty. The scar on her cheek, it was faint and pale. Her armor had scratches. She held my gaze like she was seeing someone from the past. Gine leaned closer, looking past the glass, studying my face. "She looks calm, Fasha," she said, almost to herself.
"Or bored," Fasha replied. That one earned my first real smile of the day. Bardock's hand moved, and the console beside my pod beeped as he keyed something in. "Get her out," he said. The pod's lights flicked, and the support fluid began to drain. The gel level dropped slowly at first, then faster. Cool air crept into the pod. The mask hissed as it disengaged, lifting away from my face and retracting into the housing.
My first full breath of unfiltered air hit my lungs. It tasted like metal and clean chemicals and something faintly smoky. I coughed once, more reflex than anything else. Fasha slid the glass aside and reached in. She scooped me up, lifting me out of the pod with ease. She set me on the rim of the pod so I could sit upright. My feet dangled, my skin prickled with cold air. And for the first time in three years, I wasn't floating. I looked between them, Bardock, Gine, and Fasha.
"Hi." Gine smiled like she'd been waiting for that exact thing. Fasha's lips twitched. "Hey, kid." Bardock just looked at me. I wasn't sure what was going through his mind. Raditz stepped forward like he couldn't stand not being part of it. "I'm older," he announced, loud and proud.
I turned my head to him slowly. "I can tell." Gine laughed under her breath, quick and soft. Raditz's face reddened. Fasha reached into a supply crate and yanked out a jumpsuit, simple, dark fabric. The great thing about these was that all you needed was one for your whole life. She worked fast. "Arms up," she ordered.
I obeyed. The jumpsuit slid on, and the fabric was warm. The armor pieces clicked into place. I threaded my tail through the hole and flexed it once. Fasha noticed immediately. "Good control."
"Worked on it," I said. Gine stepped in close and checked my collar, fixing it with gentle fingers. "There," she said softly. "Much better." Raditz crossed his arms again. "You better not cry when you get hit." I tilted my head. "Do you cry when you got hit?" Raditz's mouth opened, but no words came out. Bardock made a short sound that might've been a laugh. Fasha scooped me back up, settling me on her hip. "Alright," she said. "We're moving."
As we walked, I glanced back once at my pod. I didn't feel sentimental, I felt relieved. We moved through the facility corridors, and now that I was out, I noticed how much bigger this place was. The ceilings were high. The halls were wide. The lights were harsh. Some glanced at Fasha. Some glanced at me.
I had used my limited Ki sense to check Raditz's power level. 517. Then I scanned the hallway around us out of curiosity. A couple of adult Saiyans stepped out of a recovery room, fully healed and already arguing about something. Their readings bounced in the low thousands. Strong, a few were stronger than me for sure. I just felt excited. Bardock noticed me staring at people, but didnt comment.
We passed a wing of recovery pods, adult pods, big ones. A few Saiyans floated inside them, eyes closed, breathing steady. So this was good to know, that we had these here. A tech walked between pods with a clipboard, checking readings. It all felt normal here. Death, injury, recovery.
We kept walking and soon reached the doors to the outside, which opened, and sunlight hit my face so bright I had to squint. Heat. Wind. Noise. The capital sprawled beyond the facility, Towers, and platforms. Saiyans flying like it was walking. Shouts in the distance that could've been laughter or a fight starting, maybe both.
"This is… a lot," I admitted. Fasha's grip on me tightened slightly. "Yeah. You'll get used to it." Gine just nodded like she understood enough. Raditz practically vibrated, like he was waiting for this moment for so long. I almost laughed. Fasha crouched slightly, then launched. We lifted into the air with a sudden rush that yanked my stomach up into my throat. Wind slammed against my face. My tail whipped behind me on instinct. Fasha held me by the back of my suit, one hand locked firm. Ahead, Bardock flew with Raditz dangling from his grip like a sack of loud opinions. Gine flew beside them.
I tried not to stare too hard, but I failed immediately. Buildings stacked in layers, platforms connecting them, fighters streaking between them. A freight skimmer shot past close enough that the wind from it tugged at my hair. Fasha dipped low to dodge it, then angled west. "Hold tight," she called. "I am," I shouted back, voice whipping away in the wind. We flew over training yards, over marketplaces, over repair bays full of armor racks and ship parts. I pointed without thinking.
"What's that?" Fasha glanced. "Armory district."
"And that?"
"Dock."
"And—"
"Celera," Fasha snapped, but there was humor in it. "Breathe."
I shut my mouth and laughed once, because she was right. My questions were coming out faster than my brain could follow. Gine's voice drifted over from the side, amused. "Let her ask. It's new."
"It's annoying," Fasha grumbled. "She'll ask until her throat gives out."
"I can pace myself," I said, then paused and added honestly, "Maybe." That got a short laugh out of Bardock, which I didn't expect, and it made my grin widen. We left the dense city behind. The towers thinned. The noise dropped. The ground below turned rougher, more open. Homes appeared, real homes, not barracks, spread out with space between them. Fasha slowed and dropped toward one of them. A modest place, she landed and set me down. My boots hit the dirt, and for the first time, I stood on Saiyan soil on my own.
Fasha walked up to the door and shoved it with her boot. It popped open. "Home," she announced. The inside was… messy. Training vests draped over chairs. Empty ration tins stacked in a corner. Armor pieces were scattered. The air smelled like sweat, oil, and fried meat. Fasha scooped a breastplate off the floor and tossed it onto a hook without even looking. Gine sighed, but she was smiling as she started picking up a couple of things. Bardock stepped inside like the mess didn't exist. Raditz walked in like he owned the place. I stood in the doorway for a moment and took it in.
Fasha noticed my pause and scratched the back of her head. "Yeah. Step where you can see the floor." Bardock shifted his weight and looked down at me. "You've got potential," he said, blunt as a hammer. "Don't waste it."
"I won't," I said just as bluntly. He nodded once, like that was settled, then turned to leave with Gine and Raditz. Gine paused on her way out and gave me that small, warm smile again. "Be good to her, Fasha," she said. Fasha rolled her eyes. "I'm always good."
Bardock snorted. "No, you're not." Gine laughed, and the three of them headed off, Raditz still talking as the door closed. Quiet settled over the house. It was just Fasha and me now. She turned, arms crossing. "Alright," she said. "We should talk." I walked toward her and sat on the floor without being told. Cross-legged, like I'd done in the pod when I tried to meditate. Fasha sat on a gear crate across from me, elbows on her knees, posture relaxed but focused.
She looked like someone preparing to lay out facts. "Your mother was Avoca," she said. "My sister." I nodded once. "Okay."
"She's dead."
"Alright," I said again, quietly. Fasha watched my face. To see if I understood what those words meant. "She was strong," Fasha continued. "Power level around five thousand. That's why she was an elite. She took one week after giving birth," Fasha said, voice steady, "then got bored and shipped out on a purge run. Her pod transponder went dark in orbit. Search crew found the craft. Hull holed. Blood in the cockpit. No body or scouter. Official mark: K.I.A."
I nodded. "And my father?" I asked. "Leeku," Fasha said immediately."He and Celari weren't bonded long. Last I heard, he joined a deep-space raider company. Could be alive. Could be dust. No one's brought news."
Part of me wanted to feel something, but I wasn't human anymore, and even if I still had that part inside me somewhere, I wasn't going to let it run the show. What mattered was what came next. "So you're… my guardian?" I asked.
Fasha snorted. "Aunt. Yeah. Guardian, if you want to say it fancy."
"Alright," I said. "Aunt." She looked mildly surprised at how easily I accepted it. Then her expression firmed again, like she remembered the next thing she needed to make sure I understood. "Now," she said, "this part isn't normal." I waited. "Low-class warriors?" she went on. "Most of them never meet their families. They get born, they get sorted, and they grow up with their rank group. Kids train with kids. They live in barracks divided by class. Family doesn't matter much."
I nodded slowly. I'd already seen it in the facility. The boy was getting escorted out. Fasha pointed at me. "But you aren't low-class or mid-class. You aren't even regular elite." I didn't speak. She tapped her own chest. "Super elites are supposed to be trained by family units. It's… tradition, in a way. Not sentimental. Practical. Keeps the power in the right hands. Keeps you sharp. As most of those low-power-level kids won't be able to help you get stronger."
"Because you don't want a super elite growing up without direction," I said, thinking it through. Fasha's mouth twitched as she approved of the logic. "Exactly. A kid like you, raised in a barracks with mid-class idiots? You'd either kill somebody or get held back." I raised my brows. "I don't want to kill anybody."
Fasha stared at me for a beat, then huffed a laugh. "What are you, fucking stupid?" Sighing, "Please don't end up like Gine, shes to soft." She leaned back slightly, arms folding again. "You're going to train. Hard. Because that's your life."
"I want to," I said honestly. That got her attention. Because my tone wasn't desperate. It wasn't angry. It was… excited. Fasha studied me. "You like the idea of fighting?"
"Yes," I said without shame. Fasha's eyes narrowed slightly, then she nodded. "Good. That's a good kind of dangerous, maybe you arent a stupid as I thought." I smiled sheepishly at that. I tend to forget people like Gine and me were rare and looked down on, so I'd have to keep some of my thoughts to myself. She stood up and jerked her head toward the mess of armor and gear. "Come on. I'll show you around. Then we eat."
We moved through the house slowly. Not a grand tour, just enough to understand where things were. Storage. Training gear. The small adjoining room that looked like it was about to be mine, even if she hadn't said it yet. A window that looked toward the distant starport. I stopped at the window and stared out. Ships moved like insects in the distance, coming and going. The sky was wide. Open. Fasha watched me from behind. "You're thinking too hard," she said.
"Maybe," I admitted. She snorted. "Get used to this place. Tomorrow we start properly." My tail flicked once behind me, excited on its own. "Tomorrow," I repeated, and my grin widened. "Okay." Fasha's expression softened by half a degree. "Good," she said. "Because I'm not going easy on you just because you're family. And since we have at least a month before the sorting begins, I plan to make sure you don't fall to anyone."
I nodded, proud and ready. "I wouldn't want you to." And that was the first time, standing in a messy Saiyan house with a blunt warrior aunt. Id make sure she lived. Shes a hard ass but shes family.