Ascension - Part 1

by edgarmash79

After leaving the World Martial Arts Tournament to begin his training under a new teacher, Uub, now 16 years of age, was gearing up to participate in the 30th World Tournament. Elsewhere, a new menace emerges from the Eleventh Universe, one whose abilities could lead the very multiverse into dangerous times. This is a remaster of a previous version that I had published before.

4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – "Training begins! The next generation of fighters prepares for the World Martial Arts Tournament."

Bulla begins training

Bulla accomplished much in her nine years on Earth. Between inventing gadgets, working in the lab, shopping with her parents and learning how to fight and control her ki, nothing had made her as excited as training for her first World Martial Arts Tournament.

Her father did not share in her excitement, however. Vegeta hovered over her bed with a broken alarm clock that had rang loudly for several minutes without waking her. Pieces littered the carpeted floor while he still had most of the broken device in his clenched hand. "Bulla! Out of bed and get changed!" he ordered.

Seconds went by without a single peep from Bulla. She groaned before rolling onto her other side, but that only vexed Vegeta even more.

A low grumble purred in Vegeta's throat before he stomped the room, shaking the foundation of the building. If it didn't wake his sleeping princess, it definitely roused the Capsule Corporation staff from theirs.

The bed fell to the floor first, followed by Bulla, who bounced off the mattress to the closet doors. "OUCH!"

Holding her head, she winced each time she touched the spot that struck the door. "Papa! What gives?! That hurt!" she whined.

Rather than lecture her, he tossed a small plastic case from his pocket. "Your mother made you and Trunks battle uniforms. Get changed and meet us in the Gravity room," Vegeta said.

Bulla breathed a pained sigh. That lump would be a nuisance during her first day. Activating the capsule from the plastic case, it conjured a box with blue spandex clothing and a white breastplate inside. "It's about time I wore the same armor as Papa's," she said. She remembered her mother's laugh while wearing Vegeta's battle armor when she was four. The picture was still preserved in her scrapbook.

Whether from her shopping trip with her parents or coveralls to help in the laboratory, breaking into new clothes had more significance when it was made for her. The child-sized uniform fit like a glove when she had a good look at it in the mirror. One confident nod to her reflection later, Bulla was ready. "Maybe I should wear this at the Tournament. It'll score a lot of awesome points with Pan."

She rode that confidence to the Gravity Room. Stepping through the door, she stood before her father, fists on her hips. "Alright, Papa! Your princess is ready to kick ass!" she exclaimed. Her confidence faded when she noticed Vegeta was still dressed casually. Trunks, on the other hand, was in his battle uniform. She anticipated training with her older brother, but the sight of her father in a plain shirt and pants was lackluster. "Papa! Why aren't you wearing your armor?!"

"Because you and Trunks are training for the Tournament, not me," he told them.

Bulla crossed her arms. "You're taking the fun out of this," she mumbled.

"Enough," Vegeta said. His tone had as much gravity as the machine itself. "No more complaints."

"Yes, Papa." Bulla decided that rather than mope around the room, she'd get a closer look at the artificial gravity generator her mother and grandfather built.

"If you're not eating, sleeping or taking care of your basic needs, you'll be training here," Vegeta explained. It made her anxious, realizing that she'd have to sacrifice most of her social life to prepare for the Tournament. But would it be worth it, she wondered?

"Don't we get to take a break at some point?" Bulla asked. One look from her father silenced any remaining questions.

"That's up to you to decide," he said. Well, that's a relief.

"Father, where are you going if you're not training with us?" asked Trunks. "Won't this slow down my progress?"

Poor choice of words. "What, you're saying I can't keep up with you, big brother?" Bulla said.

"How you approach your training is up to you," Vegeta said. "I'm returning to Lord Beerus's world," he added to Trunks.

A wave of excitement energized Bulla. "When can I go train with Uncle Beerus, Papa? Can I join you after the Tournament?" she asked.

"You're still too young," Vegeta said, ending the conversation abruptly. "Now, do you know how to operate the gravity machine?"

"Yes, Papa," Bulla nodded. "Will you at least say hi to Uncle Beerus for me?"

Vegeta looked like he considered it, but Bulla could never tell which of his neutral expressions was associated with her directly. If only he showed her his genuine happy face like the many times he played pretend royal parties with her years ago or the happy bingo dance he performed for her in her room. At least that would've been a vote of confidence to add motivation to her training.

"Papa!" Bulla called to him before he left. "Train hard!"

That finally made him smile. "Have fun with Lord Beerus!" Trunks added.

Once Vegeta left, the siblings turned to each other. "So, how do we approach this?" Bulla asked.

"We need to get your body adjusted to the intense gravity. Otherwise, you won't accomplish much," Trunks explained. He adjusted the settings until the monitor read "50 G." Bulla read the numbers, raising an eyebrow.

"Fifty times? Who do you take me for? Can't we go higher than that?" she asked. Seriously. As if I'd lower my pride for something so pitiful.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself so soon after we begin," Trunks said.

Bulla scoffed and shoved her brother's hand aside. Pressing a few buttons, she changed the setting on the monitor to read "150 G" instead.

"One-fifty?! That's too much!" Trunks yelled.

"Just do it," Bulla retorted. She wanted her stance and expression to be clear to him.

Trunks pursed his lips. Bulla waited, arms crossed. Was her brother going to comply, or would he coddle her like a concerned parent? She waited patiently for her opportunity to finally use the Gravity Room that she wasn't going to allow her older brother to babysit and dampen the mood. "Well?!"

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you," said Trunks, pressing the button to activate the gravity generator. Bulla stepped back, watching the cylindrical pillar begin humming and vibrating. The air around her thickened. The illumination had also changed to match the increase. Bulla studied the room, watching as loose objects adhered to the floor. It wasn't long before her body became heavier each second.

Drawing into her ki, she forced herself to stay on her feet. The number on display hadn't even reached 75 G yet. Dammit, you and your overinflated pride!

The higher the number climbed, the more intense the pull on her body. She hadn't had time to adjust further when her body dropped sharply, falling to her hands and knees with her head drooping close to the floor.

"Focus your ki to compensate!" Trunks shouted. "Don't you think I'm trying?!" Bulla shouted back. "I didn't expect it to be that difficult!"

"That's what I warned you about! You're still not as trained in ki control as I am!" Trunks told her. He reached for the control panel, ready to lower the gravity.

"No! Don't touch it," Bulla said. Her breathing was already labored. The monitor had only passed "110 G." "I can do this."

There was only one solution to this dilemma. Heightening her ki, Bulla's hair flared and changed color from teal to gold. When her ki skyrocketed, her body was mobile again, lighter than before the machine was switched on. She sighed in relief. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" she shouted, pumping her fists.

It was like dancing on clouds. No amount of artificial gravity would weigh her down in her Super Saiyan form. Bulla danced and flipped around the room, punching and kicking rapidly with successive fluid movements of her arms and legs. "Yeah! C'mon, Trunks! Let's get started!"

Assuming a fighting stance, Bulla was ready for her brother. However, Trunks only stared back, disappointed. "What? Did I do something wrong?" she asked. Her excitement in this state only vexed Trunks.

"Yes. First of all, you're too impatient," Trunks stated. "Your body can't properly adjust to the gravity if you jump the gun like that. It has to progress naturally in your base form."

"But that's way too hard for me!" Bulla yelled. "I can train better like this! Come on, big brother. Transform so we can fight!"

"Did Father not teach you anything about patience and self-restraint?" Trunks asked. He pressed a button to shut the gravity off, restoring the room to normal. Bulla's jaw dropped, as did her hair.

"Hey! What's wrong with you?!" Bulla yelled. She wanted to punch him for this, but her legs gave out in her mid-step. Trunks caught her, easing her back up.

Bulla fought against a sense of vertigo. "What's going on? Why'm I so dizzy?"

"Will you listen to me now?" Trunks said. Bulla shielded her eyes from the lights above, using the machine panel to support her weight. "Y-yeah," she said, slowing her breathing. "Sorry."

"You have Father's pride. No question about that," Trunks said. "I used to be overconfident in my ability to fight when I was your age. It can cause problems if you don't pay attention."

"Gotcha," Bulla said. The room stopped spinning after a few deep breaths. She was ready to move again. "One more thing," Trunks added before she took her first step.

"Relying too much on your Super Saiyan form drains your stamina quickly. If you build your stamina through your base form, you can hold onto your transformation longer. Father said that was one of the things he learned when he trained his body to go beyond his limit and achieve Super Saiyan 2. It took me a while, but I was able to do it too."

"Can you show me Super Saiyan 2, brother?" she asked excitedly. She heard it brought up in conversation on occasion between her father and brother, but she had never seen the actual transformation on display. Mostly because Super Saiyan 2 was only necessary when a battle required it. Bulla believed that they were only keeping it to themselves.

But this moment was not going to push her away or deter her from satiating her curiosity. "Please show me!" she begged, leering closer with an eager expression.

"Alright, fine," Trunks said, rolling his eyes. With a single shout, his ki rose exponentially, knocking Bulla to the floor. Surrounded by the familiar golden aura of a Super Saiyan, Super Saiyan 2 had extra features that both surprised and fascinated the girl. Sparks of electricity danced around the aura, like the discharge of a lightning tower. Trunks's hair was sharper and more refined than his Super Saiyan form, with lesser strands falling across his face. "Cool…!" whispered Bulla as she went in for a closer look.

"There. Happy now?" Trunks asked when he powered down to his base form. Bulla nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I vow to go past my limits and reach Super Saiyan 2 before the Tournament!" she declared, rising to her feet while pounding her chest with her fist.

"At least get used to the gravity first before you go wild with your training," Trunks advised. He re-activated the machine and brought the gravity to 50 G. Bulla almost fell to her hands and knees again, but the less intense sensation of artificial gravity meant that she would have more control, buying her enough time to adjust incrementally. I need to do this the right way if I'm going to prove to Pan I'm the better fighter.

"Focus on walking. Start from the door and walk around the room. Keep doing that for today," Trunks said, coaching her. Bulla's legs felt like they dragged anchors through concrete. Each step forward to approach the door was laboring. Get to the door, Bulla. You can do this.

Bulla was already breathing heavily by the time she reached the door. "Why is this so hard?!" she said through breaths. She was ready to faint when she looked up and saw how wide the room was from the door to the opposite wall. I have to walk all the way around…?

"Is 50 times too much for you to start with?" asked Trunks. She didn't realize he had been watching her walk the few steps it took to reach the door. His hand was resting near the button, but his expression of concern annoyed her more.

"I don't want your pity," Bulla said. Pity accomplishes nothing. "I know it's difficult, but don't think for a second I'm going to give up that easily."

Her answer seemed to be what he expected to hear from her. Trunks stepped away from the control panel with a nod to begin his exercises. "Good. I'd hate to tell Father how fast you quit when he comes back."

Bulla scoffed loudly. "It's on, you jerk!" she shouted. Forcing each step forward, regardless of how long it took, Bulla would complete her first lap around the room to spite him. But she also could tell how proud he was of her determination. Keep it up, brother. You're the best motivation I have right now.

Later, Bulla finished another lap around the room and touched the door. "My legs are on fire," she whined. They were also shaken by the time she looked down. "Brother, how many laps was it?" she asked Trunks. "I think I can do ten…more…."

Her voice trailed as her vision blurred. Sweat matted her hair to her face, no longer in a ponytail. She reached to wipe the sweat from her brow, but she had little strength to lift her arm.

"Bulla…!" Was that Trunks's voice? She couldn't tell anymore. Her lips felt dry to her tongue, the room's noises blended to where she thought the machine was Trunks and her brother was a lavender flower wobbling towards her. Dehydration made everything blurry and disorienting.

She did feel something catch her before she fell forward. Whatever it was that caught her eased her to the floor slowly.

The next thing she realized was her brother helping her to a water bottle, easing the liquid in her mouth by small amounts. "Trunks…?"

"It's okay. You'll be fine," her brother answered. Everything looked normal again. The gravity generator was an actual gravity generator, and the lavender flower was just the hair on her brother's head matted to his forehead with sweat.

"You were so delirious I thought you'd fall face-first onto the floor," Trunks explained. "Thank goodness I was here."

"Sorry for worrying you, big brother," Bulla said faintly. "I have a bad habit of overdoing it, don't I?"

"It's not your fault. Besides, you walked one more lap than I did when I first started my gravity training," Trunks told her.

Bulla chuckled. "Liar."

"Let's call it a day," Trunks said, helping Bulla to her feet. Bulla's legs were like gelatin. Unable to stand, she had to rely on Trunks to carry her while he opened the door.

The styled bang on Bulma's hair looked like it might twitch after Bulla narrated her trek in the Gravity Room. "I swear I need to curb your stubbornness, Bulla. You've inherited too much of it from your father."

"But I walked eight laps around the room at fifty times gravity, Mama!" Bulla exclaimed. Re-energized from eating, Bulla wanted to look accomplished. A hot bath later will relieve what aches were still in her muscles.

"How can I spend the day working, worrying whether or not you'll dehydrate?" Bulma said. Her hand hovered near her pack of cigarettes. Bulla echoed Vegeta's disapproval of Bulma's smoking habit. Bulla wanted to scold her mother's hypocrisy regarding how often she complained about the girl's strict training regimen.

"It's only difficult at first because I'm not used to it," Bulla said. "After a few days, my body will adjust, and I can manage things better then. Being half-Saiyan helps."

"Half-Saiyan, quarter-Saiyan," Bulma mused. Her hand was fiddling with the pack now. "What good does that do when you punish your body recklessly? You're not your father, Bulla."

"I know, Mama," Bulla said. "But Papa never gives up." She rose from her chair. "And neither will I."

Bulma had already lit her cigarette before Bulla could protest. "Fine. I can't tell you how to train for the Tournament." Bulla waved the smoke away from her. "But I want to be sure I don't have to bring you to the Infirmary if something goes wrong."

Trunks eventually entered the kitchen to grab something from the fridge. Bulma halted him with a finger on his chest. "And you, mister. I don't want you pushing your sister too hard, got it?" she said. The sharpness of Bulma's voice could slice steel.

"I need him to, though," Bulla chipped in. "How else can I get strong enough to go Super Saiyan 2 against Pan at the Tournament?"

Bulla wasn't sure whether it was encouraging her brother or mentioning Super Saiyan 2 that caused a vein to protrude from her mother's temple. Bulma rounded on both of them. "You're fighting in a tournament, not a life-threatening battle! Can't either of you exercise some restraint?!"

"Papa always tells us to push hard to surpass him one day," Bulla said, looking to Trunks for reassurance. "She's right. Father did instill that in us often," he added.

Bulma sighed, extinguishing the butt of her cigarette. "I can't with you two. I have to get back to work," she grumbled. The siblings then looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders.

Bulla spent the next few days adjusting to fifty times Earth's gravity. By week's end, she mastered it, moving around freely in her base form as Trunks expected. "Great work, Bulla! I knew you had it in you," he told her. The siblings high-fived each other.

"So when do we start training together?" Bulla inquired. She had been eager to get in several sparring sessions with her brother to prepare herself, but all Trunks did was dodge the question and reinforce his encouragement on her progress.

"Father and I train at three-hundred times, Bulla," Trunks told her. He'd been pushed to finally give her an answer, which, as expected, Bulla did not take so well. "Three hundred?" she sighed.

"Don't be so discouraged, though!" Trunks assured her. "If you can master 50 times within a week, by two months, you'll have caught up to Father and me!"

Bulla narrowed her eyes. "That only leaves four months of actual training. I can't make that kind of progress in time for the Tournament. I will work towards mastering three hundred times by the end of the month."

"Ah, right," Trunks muttered. Bulla's stubbornness had to be beneficial for something, at least.
However, the girl regarded him with a soured expression. He could almost hear her humming over the machine in annoyance.

"I feel you're not taking any of this seriously enough to care about my training," Bulla said. Trunks reacted as if she punched him in the gut. "H-hey…!"

She leered at him, eyes fixed on her brother's face. After a few seconds, she sighed. "I knew something was off. You're still not over her, are you?"

"Ehhhh?!"

Trunks nearly collapsed, forgetting his balance and ki control while the artificial gravity was still active. "Bulla…!"

"What? Am I wrong? You can't stop thinking about Mai, can you?" Bulla said, knocking him a couple of times on the head with a quick tap of her fist. "Papa'd scold you for letting that influence your training. I certainly wouldn't allow it to mess up mine."

"That's not true!" Trunks protested. He avoided another knock on the head. "I haven't seen Mai in months! I'm over it, I swear!"

Bulla scoffed. She posed, arms crossed, mimicking the way Bulma scoffed at Vegeta. "You can't figure out what your heart's telling your brain."

"How would you know that? You're not even old enough to go on a date yet," Trunks said.

Bulla scoffed even more. "Well, how would you know? You don't even go shopping with me! A lot of cute boys ask me out, but Papa keeps scaring them off! It's not easy when you have Mama's beauty passed down to you!"

"You're still nine years old," Trunks said bluntly, making Bulla flinch. She rounded on him. "Okay, so I exaggerated that part. But so what?"

"Look, this is getting us nowhere," Trunks advised, his face relaxing into a grin.

Bulla considered it, eventually relaxing her face too. "Fine. But I want you to take me seriously from now on, got it?"

"Understood," Trunks nodded. He powered down the gravity generator. "First one to ten plates gets dibs on the bathroom?"

Bulla blinked before catching on to the rumbling in her stomach. "Hah! You're on!" she replied half-confidently.

After a relaxing hot bath – she lost the challenge and was forced to wait outside – she rifled through her closet for something to put on to bed. "T-shirt and boxers are more Pan's thing," she said. It dawned on her that she hadn't spoken to Pan all week since her training began. She'd need to remedy that shortly. Shrugging, she chose to put them on.

"Bulla!" Pan shouted from her end of the tablet, filling the screen with her face. "Why didn't you call me sooner?!"

Pan's face was so close it could've burst through the screen. Bulla reared her head back. "I've been busy training all week. It's not easy mastering fifty times gravity, you know."

"Fifty times…?!"

Bulla winced from the shouting. "Pan, keep it down!"

"S-sorry! Still, fifty times gravity?"

"I tried starting at one-fifty, but it was too much. Big brother wants me to do it the slow way," Bulla explained, rolling her eyes. "Think of the cool things I can do with the prize money once I win it!"

"When you win it?" Pan said, raising an eyebrow. "I think you're underestimating how much stronger I'll be by the time we have our fight, Bulla. We'll crush the competition, make it to the finals, and then I knock you out of the ring for the victory."

"Is that so?" Bulla smirked. Pan nodded confidently. "You wouldn't know what to do with the prize money, though!"

"Oh? And you do?" Pan asked.

"Yes!" Bulla said eagerly. This was going to be the coolest idea ever. "I will build a giant robot and pilot it around the world. I can make adjustments and add lasers, missiles, and a mega punch to send bad guys flying. I'll then fly across the universe and help the Galactic Patrol arrest criminals, too!"

"Can we make the giant robot look like the Great Saiyaman?" Pan inquired.

The idea sounded less cool now. "Um…."

"I want to use the prize money to eat a giant vat of ice cream with chocolate syrup and sprinkles. Oh, and share it with Uncle Piccolo and you, of course."

Bulla couldn't suppress her giggles. "We'll invite Uncle Beerus and Whis to eat, too. They'd get jealous if you hoarded all of it."

"Ehh?! Oh no, I didn't consider that! Uncle Beerus would get mad and destroy Earth if that happened!" Pan exclaimed. Was she on the verge of crying again, Bulla noticed?

"Relax, crybaby. Uncle Beerus wouldn't do that," Bulla said. "I'm not a crybaby, Bulla," Pan quickly replied.

"I'm kidding. I've bragged about my training; how's yours? Is your grandfather giving you a lot to work with?" Bulla asked. Pan's cheeks went red on the screen. "I haven't started yet," she said sheepishly, rubbing her arm.

"What do you mean you haven't started?"

"Mama and Grandma want me to study enough to be ahead. I spent all of this week doing schoolwork with Papa as my tutor," Pan explained, sighing heavily. "They said I should study hard until the end of the month before I start my training."

"Yikes," said Bulla.

"I suppose training my brain is as important as training my body if I'm going to be stronger," said Pan. She reached to pull one of her stuffed animals, hugging it against her chest. All Bulla could see on the screen was a stuffed bear with half of Pan's face peeking over it.

The conversation reached a lull at this point. Schoolwork was the last thing they'd want to think about, and Bulla didn't want to shut the screen off, knowing what it would mean.

"So, how do you think we'll fare against Uub if either of us fights him?" Bulla asked.

Pan moved her stuffed bear around like a martial artist, making punching and kicking motions. "We find a way to force a ringout," Pan answered.

"My best option is to match his power with Super Saiyan 2," Bulla suggested but caught herself too late. "Crap, I should've kept that a secret."

"Bulla, don't tell me…?"

"No! No, I haven't reached that level yet," Bulla said. She didn't want to leave her friend in a state of envy for the next five and a half months. "But that is my goal for the Tournament."

"I haven't lost hope yet," Pan said. "Not by a long shot. I'll make it to Super Saiyan, then put all my effort to master it by the Tournament."

"I'm certain you'll aim higher than that," Bulla reassured her. "Let's leave with our highest hopes, okay?"

Pan nodded enthusiastically. "I want us to be at our absolute best by May 7th next year."

"See you in a few months; I guess," Bulla said, pressing her hand to the screen. Pan touched her screen from her end. "Let's train hard and get stronger," Pan replied.

Bulla's hand rested on the blank screen after their conversation ended. She would miss her friend but knew that she had her own goals to worry about without distracting herself with how Pan would approach her own training. She glanced at a white sheet in the corner of her room.

"What do you think about all this?" she asked. Removing it uncovered a chassis for a humanoid robot. It was still hollow, but at least she assembled the robot's endoskeletal form. "Lots of wiring and plating here and there, and I should be done in…," Bulla let out a heavy sigh, "Several years…?"

She opened her laptop and booted up a coding program she had been working on to assemble the robot's A.I. script, but another sigh met the lines of code halfway. "Mama knows way more about this than I do. I wish I were kidding about that giant robot. I'd make Pan my co-pilot."

Bulla did consider asking her mother, but one look at the clock on her end table led her to believe that the woman had already gone to bed. It was rather late for Bulla to stay up, overlooking the notes she scribbled and typed into her laptop about the robot's schematics. "Mama must have gigabytes of data on robots and A.I. on her computer. Maybe…?"

There was only one logical solution. She tiptoed to the main laboratory to find a light still switched on the inside. "Maybe Mama is still awake? That'd make things easier, I suppose."

She peeked around the doorframe. "Mama, I have something I wanted to ask you." Rather than her mother, it was her grandfather, Dr. Briefs.

"Ah, Bulla-chan, you're still up at this hour?" he asked. He juggled his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other while making adjustments on a small device with a screwdriver.

"I can't sleep," she said. "Something's on my mind, and I couldn't wait to ask Mama about it."

Bulla hovered over Dr. Briefs's shoulder to stare at the computer screen while he finished adjusting the screw. "Wow, these lines of code look advanced. What are you working on?"

"Gibberish," the old man said. With a few keystrokes, he deleted the codes on the screen. "Keeps the ol' noggin ticking when you make gibberish code. Sometimes an idea will pop right out as you do it," he said.

"I wish I had time to write gibberish," Bulla said. The whiteboard behind the computer desk drew her eyes to the numbers, letters and diagrams written from end to end, filling the whole surface. "Some of this looks familiar," she noted.

"That, however, is not gibberish," Dr. Briefs said. "Your mother and I have been working on this for some time after your brother was born."

"What is it for?" she asked. Rather than ask Bulma, who would've answered often with "it's too hard for you to understand" or "it's not important," she knew her grandfather wouldn't hold anything back. If only she could find him staying in one spot long enough without either running some errand with a staff member or spending time with her grandmother. Thinking of her made Bulla crave cupcakes with strawberries.

"The building blocks to an infinity engine," Dr. Briefs answered. Taking note of the infinite symbol scribbled several times on the board felt like a lightbulb had gone off in Bulla's head.

"I get it," she said enthusiastically. "You and Mama want to create the same power source that Number 17 and 18 have in their bodies, making them run on never-ending energy."

"Yep, but they won't tell us anything about it. They don't want us poking and prodding them for it, either," Dr. Briefs said. Bulla couldn't tell if he was disappointed or understanding, a frightening thought for someone who wasn't a complete devout of the scientific field.

"Have you and Mama come close to figuring it out?" Bulla asked, poring over the formulas. Dr. Briefs didn't answer at first. Instead, he left his chair and uncovered several other whiteboards covered with formulas, graphs, charts, and drawings. Bulla couldn't hold her jaw together. "No way…!"

Scrutinizing them all brought Bulla to one singular conclusion: she had no clue what these formulas calculated. "Maybe I should use the prize money to study abroad at a prestigious science academy instead," she whispered to herself. Building a giant robot was one thing. Understanding the principles of perpetual recyclable energy was a whole other league altogether.

The computer displayed the desktop when Bulla peeled her eyes away from the mish-mash of numbers and letters. Looking at those too much would've made her see spots. She noticed her mother's folder labeled Bulma underneath and moved the mouse to open it. A window popped up with a password prompt.

"Of course, Mama wouldn't want prying eyes in her stuff," Bulla said. She typed a few entries but was denied each time. Even Dr. Briefs looked on with curiosity, scratching his mustache. The pair stared at the blank prompt for a few seconds.

"I've tried birthdays, letters within our names. Maybe something related to Papa might be there, but I'm drawing a blank here," Bulla said. There must've been some important date to her parents, but even that was kept confidential. Her grandfather's enthusiastic humming perked up suddenly. He reached over to type five numbers in the password prompt.

"Grandpa? What are you-?"

His attempt worked. The folder opened to reveal a list of files on the screen. Bulla was beside herself. "How did you…?"

"The most important date in her life," Dr. Briefs said with a smile. "Don't forget to close everything when you're done."

"I will. Thanks, grandpa," Bulla said. She hit the jackpot. Everything her mother worked on throughout her life was all there for her to discover. But what date was her grandfather referring to? The most important date in her mother's life? She'd want to ask her about that later.

"Where would Mama keep the files on robotics?" Bulla said, wasting no time. She opened any file she believed was related to robotics and engineering until she stopped at one file named "blueprint_16."

"Blueprint 16…?" Bulla clicked on the file. The blueprints and schematics of a fully constructed humanoid robot were displayed with the header "Number 16" at the top. It was the honeypot of robotics right before her eyes. "Wow!"

She covered her mouth quickly, afraid that her voice was too loud. "Shoot, I almost let myself get caught."

Bulla began to analyze the schematics from head to toe, reading through each page of data until she saw a picture of the robot in its full form. "This looks amazing. The skin grafted onto his endoskeleton looks so life-like. Wait, is that a bomb?"

She clicked and enhanced the robot's chest plate area. "Why would there be a bomb in there? And what's with this strange red logo? R.R.?"

She whispered the letters a few times in her mouth before giving up. "Robot Reconnaissance? Could that be it? Maybe he was a surveillance robot, or possibly a cyborg?" Additional information included a series of notes with dates marked beside them. "This was shortly after my brother was born," she noted.

A low, cold voice from the door froze her train of thought. "Find something interesting?" asked Bulma.

If Bulla hadn't covered her mouth fast enough, her shriek would've woken up the entire building. She stared wide-eyed at her mother, lowering her hands. "Mama…!"

"You should know that I get a notification whenever there's unauthorized access to my protected files," Bulma said, stalking toward her. Bulla immediately left the chair, nearly backing herself to the wall. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have pried! I didn't know your password, I swear!"

Amid Bulla's babbling, Bulma decided to take her spot on the chair rather than continue to scold her. "I'll give your grandfather a piece of my mind in the morning. I figured he knew my password."

Bulma paused when she saw what Bulla had accessed. She turned to her, pointing at Number 16's blueprints and schematics. "Is this what you're curious about?"

Bulla nodded. "I, um, I've been building a robot to help train with me, but I realized I'm missing a lot of information. I partially built a chassis, but there's so much left to do. I don't even know how to program an A.I. script."

"I'd be even more impressed if I wasn't still angry with you, kiddo," Bulma said. She let out a sigh. "It's a shame what happened to him."

"Did you build him?" Bulla asked. Bulma had a "are you kidding?" look when she glanced her way. "This was long before your time, but there was a prominent genius in robotics named Dr. Gero. He's the one who made enhancements to the humans that we know as Numbers 17 and 18. He invented the infinity engine we've been working on over the years to recreate."

"That sounds really cool," Bulla said. "I'd love to make robots too." Then the idea hit her as if it stared right in her face. "I know what I want to do!"

"Do what?" Bulma asked. She picked up on what Bulla alluded to and stared at the computer screen. Bulla took her mother's hand into hers.

"Can we build him again? Make another version of him? We can modify the chassis I built to incorporate these blueprints to make him my training partner. Please?"

She then pointed at the chest plate. "But can we do it without that scary-looking bomb, though?"

Bulma had all the inclination to refuse this suggestion. It was late enough, and Bulla should've been asleep by now. "Alright, alright," she said. Shaking her head, Bulma went to the back of the laboratory's far wall and pressed her hand against a pressure plate. Bulla hurried to join her, excited that there was something Bulma revealed in the building that she had never seen before.

The pressure plate unlocked a hidden panel in the wall that slid open, revealing a corridor. Bulla followed her mother as they passed a series of compartments with numbers labeled on them. The labels turned out to be dates, starting by age. The labels were placed in reverse chronological order, with the most recent one still unlocked. Before Bulla could even take a peek, Bulma had already rounded a corner into the next corridor.

When she caught up with her mother, she stopped before a compartment labeled "767." Bulma pulled and twisted a lever to open it, sliding the compartment out for Bulla to see.

Pieces of a humanoid robot were on display along the metallic bed. Bulla reached for one of them to get a closer look. "Wow. So this was Number 16?"

"Yeah. That's what's left of him. Thank goodness your grandfather and I scavenged these before the media arrived," Bulma said. Bulla noticed sadness and nostalgia in how her mother reconnected with this relic. She then spotted what was left of the head, crushed and nearly folded in half. A footprint had dented through the cranial plating completely, leaving nothing but a flattened face and a dirty tuft of red hair. Bulla lifted the head to examine it. "We can rebuild him, right?"

Bulma plucked a charred microprocessor chip from the scattered parts and turned it around in her hand. "Maybe. It'll take some time, but he won't be the same Number 16 as the one you see here. His internal hard drive and memory circuits were completely wiped when he was destroyed. Plus, we'd have to create a new head."

"I don't care if he's different. He deserves a second chance," Bulla said assuredly. While the head looked anything but, Bulla did remove the dust and grime from the face and hair.

"It's way past your bedtime to make a decision. I'll let you know soon," Bulma said. She put the microprocessor back. Bulla did the same with the head before Bulma pushed the compartment back into the wall, locking it.

"Before you go back to your room," Bulma said as Bulla was on her way out. "Promise me that you'll discuss whatever project you want to work on with me first."

"Okay, Mama. I promise," Bulla smiled. She wanted to build a robot, and now her dream would come true. It was going to be a good sleep tonight.

The following morning, however, was not so good. Bulla entered an empty Gravity room, expecting her brother. She examined the time on the panel outside and pursed her lips. "Where the hell is he…?"

Pacing back and forth, she waited, wondering if he was late or if he had slept through his alarm. Each step accelerated the tapping of her finger along her arm. Each step made her more frustrated until she threw her arms. "That's it!"

Stalking back to Trunks's room, she opened the door. "You better still be in here, broth-!"

No one in his room, either. Bulla pushed a few buttons on her wristwatch to open a channel with her brother.

"Hey, sis, what's up?" Trunks answered.

"Where the hell are you?! We're supposed to be training today!"

She needed him to be there for encouragement. Conquering new plateaus in the Gravity room won't be easy by herself. And until her mother made up her mind regarding rebuilding Number 16, she was apprehensive about training solo. How else would she speed up her progress if she couldn't find an adequate partner?

"Sorry to do this, Bulla," Trunks said. "I'm spending time with Goten to train for the Tournament. You have the Gravity room to yourself, though. I'm confident you'll get the best out of Father's battle programs."

"I don't want a simulation or some dummy drones buzzing around my head! I want you back here to help me!" Bulla yelled. What was he thinking ditching her like this? That idiot.

"I gotta go, Bulla. Train hard, okay?" he said. Bulla was cut off when the channel went silent. Balling her fists, she screamed enough for the whole building to hear. "YOU'RE SUCH AN IDIOT BROTHER!"

There was only one way to vent her anger for the rest of the day. The Gravity room would provide enough of a workout to build up an appetite by dusk.

Staff members avoided her on the way back. Once the door was shut and secured behind her, she went to work.

"I'll just boot up Papa's last training program to start things off. To hell with the warm-up. I'm warmed up and red hot!"

Bulla realized her mistake too soon once the program started. The artificial gravity generator jumped right to 300 Gs on the display screen. The numbers stared Bulla in the face, mocking her. "Oh crap…!"

It was as if a skyscraper was pushing her down. She nearly crashed into the floor had she not used her hands to brace herself. The panel to shut the gravity off never looked further away from her than it did now.

What made it worse was that panels along the top of the walls opened to jettison flying attack drones. Lights switched on in the middle of their frames, aiming at Bulla with targeting lasers. "Double crap…!"

The lasers pelted her several times in their initial salvo. Each blast stung hard, causing pain to shoot across her body. What are you doing, Bulla? Transform! You can handle 300 times in your Super Saiyan form!

Bulla willed the voice to the back of her mind. She put herself in this predicament out of sheer stubbornness. She'd have to get out of it while enduring the next wave of drone attacks.

Each limb weighed a frightening amount, too scary for her to calculate at the spur of the moment. She needed to reach the panel to shut off the generator, all while each laser beam cracked her skin like a whip.

Gasping and wincing from each strike, her mind screamed at her.

Transform, dammit!

No!

Bulla! Stop being so damn stubborn! Transform if it means anything!

"No! I can do this! I'm the princess of Saiyans!" Bulla shouted. She flared her ki. Not enough to transform, but enough to toughen her body and give it mobility to propel her to the panel. She kicked herself off the ground with the extra strength boost, leaping to the panel. Her hand reached for the shut-off button, narrowly grazing it with the tips of her fingers. It wasn't enough to push it down, she realized.

"Almost there…!" Bulla grunted. Her body was sinking back towards the floor as if the strongest magnet was embedded underneath Capsule Corporation, and her body was made of iron. The drones closed in on her from behind, aiming their lasers again. Bulla was grinding her teeth, scrunching her face while being pelted endlessly. They hit her all across her back, head, and legs to hinder her success. She didn't care that tears were streaming down her face. She didn't care that it had mixed in with sweat to trickle in her mouth, the salted taste touching her tongue. It was a furious climb to bring her back to safety, no matter what her body went through. Bulla inherited many things from her parents, but the one thing she wanted to preserve more than all others was her father's pride.

She fought back the temptation of transforming to ease the pain of her mistake. It would not win her over this day. She'd blame herself if she ever gave up. I won't fail you, Papa!

With one burst of adrenaline, Bulla slammed her hand on the shut-off button. The loud and vibrant humming of the artificial gravity generator quieted until it was completely silent. The monitor on the panel displayed the number rapidly decreasing until it slowed to a halt at 1 G.

Bulla realized she wasn't in the clear yet, as the drones continued their laser fire. It didn't matter what the gravity was set at; the drones would continue firing until they were destroyed or their buttons pressed to deactivate them. Bulla chose the former.

With her ki still heightened, she moved in high-speed bursts, firing ki blasts to pierce each drone until they all dropped like flies to a bug zapper. When the last one crashed into the wall from its momentum, Bulla collapsed onto her back, breathing heavily.

"Brightest girl in the family, my butt," she breathed. Papa and Trunks would not let me hear the end of it if they found out.

She worked herself into a seated position. Much of her body armor was scratched and cracked from the laser barrage when she touched it. "What was that saying? 'Death by a thousand cuts?'"

She could've easily counted two-thousand blasts from the drones, and she wouldn't be entirely wrong. She chuckled at the thought.

"I should adjust to the gravity before looking into Papa's battle simulations," she said, eyeing the broken drones. It was an intense warm-up for sure.

Pan's training begins

"Training! Training! With Grandpa and Uub!" Pan sang as she packed her clothes into her backpack. The drawers were nearly empty of clothing, leaving little space for anything else.

"Did you pack your toothbrush?" Videl asked in passing from outside her room.

"Not yet, Mama," Pan replied. "Where is he…?"

Pan sifted through her closet for a specific stuffed animal, tossing several behind her. When she found the stuffed Piccolo doll Videl made for her second birthday; she hugged it. "I may not be able to train with you, Uncle Piccolo, but you won't be far away from me."

"Did you pack your toothbrush?" Videl asked again, passing by the door in the opposite direction.

"Not yet, Mama," Pan's reply was automatic, as if the words left her mouth without her realizing it. Once she placed the Piccolo doll in the bag, she tied it off. The backpack nearly encapsulated the entirety of her bed after she stuffed all that she could inside. "Ready to go!"

Pan quickly realized that squeezing the bag through the doorframe would be tricky. "Did I overdo it…?"

She attempted anyway. Shoving the bag through the door, it eventually made its way out, only for her to trip and fall forward, with the backpack burying her underneath. She heard a sigh from above her. "Hey Mama, I got the bag out of my room," she said with a weak chuckle.

"When are you going to learn how to be more organized, Pan?" Videl asked, offering her hand to help Pan to her feet. Pan then slid into the backpack's straps.

Videl placed a small bag in Pan's hands. "Your toiletries."

Pan blinked for a moment, only to casually rub the back of her head with another weak chuckle. "Oh, right, I almost forgot."

Videl didn't share in Pan's light-hearted approach to all of this packing. She shook her head at the large bag Pan had squeezed through the door frame. "You're not going to your friend's island hauling all of that."

Pan glanced behind her. "Why not…?"

"Where are you going to fit your school supplies? Your textbooks? Your pencils and erasers? Packing nothing but clothes isn't going to help your studies while you're over there," Videl explained. Pan knew it was too good to be true.

"When am I going to find time to study, Mama? I have to train hard if I have any chance to win against everyone at the Tournament," Pan said. Videl ruffled her daughter's hair. "Training your mind is equally important."

Videl directed Pan back into her bedroom. "Come on. Let's re-organize this mess."

Pan could almost picture that championship belt sprouting wings and flying away. She sulked behind her mother as the pair went to work on rearranging Pan's necessities, reducing it to a comfortable portion. "There. Isn't that better?" Videl noted.

"Uncle Piccolo is still coming," Pan said while holding the doll. Videl shook her head again.

"You're not a little girl anymore. Some day you'll have to put aside the dolls and toys and face the truth of growing up. But there'll always be a little girl somewhere you can give your dolls to so they can be as happy as you were," Videl explained, easing the Piccolo doll out of Pan's arms.

"Can Uncle Piccolo have it? I want him to keep it safe," Pan suggested, which Videl obliged with a smile. "Sure, I'll give it to him."

Satisfied that this wasn't a total bust, Pan hauled the bag with ease. Rushing down the stairs to where a large breakfast awaited her, she spotted her father at work on a few notebooks.

"Ah, good timing," Gohan said as Pan let the bag drop by the door. "I'm putting the finishing touches on your lesson plan while you're there."

If Gohan made it, Pan knew she'd be more invested. Gohan made problems enjoyable to solve, comparing them with events from the past while using his friends and family as examples of solving a written mathematical problem.

Gohan and Pan perked their heads mid-bite as the trio sat and ate breakfast. "Father and Uub sure are fired up," Gohan noted.

"Did you learn a lot from Grandpa, Papa?" Pan asked. Since training often with Uncle Piccolo, Pan had barely seen her father's training under her grandfather. It built up excitement for when she'd finally learn directly from Goku. Pan would also spend more time training and sparring with Uub. If she could catch up to his strength, winning against Bulla was assured.

"Father and I did a lot of training when I was not too much older than you are now," Gohan said. "If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been able to become a Super Saiyan."

That shiny golden bait dangled in front of Pan. It enticed her to grab hold of it and let it pull her out of the river. Having that extra leverage would be a boon, but she was equally interested in how she'd look with golden hair and aqua-green eyes. There had to be a sure-fire way to become a Super Saiyan other than "get angry," as she'd been told.

"Pan, your breakfast is getting cold," Videl told her. Gohan had already finished while she was daydreaming about Super Saiyans and her grandfather's training. "Sorry, Mama."

With her belly full and a good stretch, Pan was ready. Gohan packed her study materials and utilities in her bag, securing them in place. "Good luck with your training, Pan."

"Thanks, Papa," Pan replied. She hugged her father first before she saw herself wrapped in Videl's arms. "You'll stop for a visit now and then, won't you?" Videl asked.

"I'm going to be busy, remember?" Pan said.

Videl couldn't hold back her emotion. "I can't believe my baby girl will be away from me for this long."

"I won't be gone for that long," Pan assured her. She eased her mother off of her, holding her hands between her own. "You'll see me again at the Tournament, stronger than I ever was before."

"Forgive the waterworks," Videl said, wiping her face. "Be good to the villagers at Uub's island, okay?"

"I will," Pan said confidently. One last embrace with her parents, and Pan walked out of the house with eagerness in her stride. She took a deep breath before sprinting forward to gain momentum until she took off from the ground. "Bye, Pan! Train hard!" Gohan shouted from below. "Be careful!" Videl added. Don't worry, Mama, Papa. I'll train hard and show you the results in a few months.

Soaring in the sky, Pan could still track Goku's and Uub's ki from the south. It was a good focal point that guided her to the right place. It would be her first visit to Uub's home since the two met years ago at the 28th World Martial Arts Tournament. Farmland and mountains soon became cities and villages, eventually clearing the way to a breathtaking view of the ocean ahead. The wafting salty smells of the ocean water drifted upward to her nose, enticing her to fly low enough to drag her hand along the water's surface. Cool to the touch, it tempted her to pause her trek to go for a swim. There're plenty of places to swim over at Uub's place.

She adjusted and re-tied her orange bandana so the winds wouldn't blow it off. The headwear was her favorite accessory. It added flair and style that Bulla complimented as a cool feature to Pan's aesthetic. "The boyish look fits you, Pan," Bulla said of her clothing choice. Aside from the pale blue jeans, the red shirt was something she treasured the most since it was a Christmas gift from her mom years ago. She never grew tired of wearing it, even though it shrunk over the years.

Gaining distance from the water, Pan spotted a large shadow swimming underneath. A whale leapt from the ocean to crash into it, barely spraying Pan as she rose to the skies. "Wow, that was so cool!"

Once the Whale's massive tail dipped underwater, she waved. "I'd love to stay and do more sightseeing, Mr. Whale, but I've got training to do!"

Flaring her ki to give herself a boost, Pan surrounded herself with a white aura. She picked up the pace to Uub's island.

Making good time with her flight, the two fast-moving dots she'd seen ahead couldn't be anyone besides Goku and Uub. The dots struck each other, creating a shockwave from their impact. It nearly sent Pan spiraling out of the air if she hadn't stopped herself to brace for the wind.

Her approach had her watching them spar more intensely until they engaged in a beam struggle with their respective Kamehameha attack. Neither beam looked to overtake the other until another outpouring of ki caused the beams to explode in a bright flash of light and energy. Pan shielded her eyes, waiting for a moment to land on the island so she could avoid the melee.

The beam struggle didn't slow things down for Goku and Uub as they resumed their physical battle. Pan used this as her way to land safely and discard the bag from her shoulders, setting it aside where the grass bled into the sand.

"Grandpa! Uub!" Pan called, waving her arms in the air. Uub and Goku halted their fight in time to pick up on Pan's voice.

"Hey! You came!" Uub shouted back happily. He was the first to land before her. "That's a nice bandana."

"Th-thanks," Pan said, reflexively touching it.

Once Goku was back on the ground, Pan reholstered her backpack. "Thanks for raising your ki for me, Grandpa. It made it easier to find this place," she told him.

Goku grinned. "It wasn't my intention, but glad to know your ki sense is still good."

It wasn't the answer Pan had hoped for, but being in his presence was still worth the trip. "I hope I learn a lot from you in the next few months," Pan said as she followed the pair to Uub's village.

"We'll talk about all that stuff later. I've worked up a fierce appetite from that fight!" Goku shouted, licking his lips. Uub slowed his pace to stay near Pan, rubbing his arms.

"It probably wasn't Master's idea, but since he said you'd be coming here, I wanted to be sure you knew where to go," Uub explained. Pan gave him a warm look. "Thank you, Uub. That was very thoughtful of you."

Uub glanced at her backpack. "You look prepared."

"I had Mama and Papa help me. I still have to study so I don't fall behind," Pan said unenthusiastically.

"I wouldn't feel too bad, though. I'm learning a lot of great things about the world. I bet your parents have a lot of interesting subjects for you to study," said Uub. Pan wondered if this wasn't some nasty trick her parents played on her. Surprise, you're going to be studying instead of training!

"We're going to have a lot of fun together! I promise!" Uub said, offering his hand. Pan eyed it a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. "Okay, I'll make sure to have fun, too," she said as they shook on it.

"Master, wait up!" cried Uub as he played catch-up. Goku had already made his way to Uub's house up a small hill along the back of the village.

Joyful was Pan's best description once she was past the thicket of palm trees. Villagers stopped to wave at the new visitor while breaking apart coconuts while women were in the middle of hauling jugs of water on their heads. It was an impressive feat of balance, Pan noticed.

Several adolescent boys were building a structure using sturdy bamboo poles and thread at the center of the village, assembling what Pan could only imagine as a large storage shed or a new house.

A portly gentleman Pan assumed was the village's chieftain oversaw the construction efforts. He'd have to be with his accessories made from bones and seashells. "Make sure we have room to install a window here," he instructed, directing the crew to the side of the structure. It made Pan curious whether they had their calculations right while drafting blueprints for whatever this would become, but that would not have been her father's style. They must know what they're doing, Pan figured.

Once the Chieftain noticed her watching them, he left the crew to greet her with open arms. "Welcome! Welcome!"

"Hi," Pan said, waving back. The Chieftain gave her a hearty handshake. Stop, my shoulder's going to pop off!

"It's so good to see a new face!" he exclaimed. His booming voice and demeanor reminded Pan of a Circus Ringmaster, presenting his village as a featured attraction. "The blessing of our World Champion, Hercule, graced us with abundant goods to improve our village."

"You know my grandfather?" asked Pan. She wasn't sure whether she had surprised or frightened him because he froze.

"You're…You're family with the World Champion?" the Chieftain asked. Seconds must've been minutes by the awkward silence between the two.

"Yes…?" Pan said. As if this wasn't a well-kept secret. "I have two grandpas. The other one's with Uub at his house, if that is his house over there?"

The Chieftain was beside himself. Pink bled through his dark-skinned cheeks. Before Pan could say anything else, she found herself lifted into his arms in a tight hug. His large arms wrapped around her small frame, even with the backpack strapped to her.

While the Chieftain was rosy in the cheeks with joy, Pan knew she was red in the face with embarrassment. She suppressed a scream ready to burst from her mouth like a geyser, all the while being paraded around the village, being held up by her backpack with the aid of the Chieftain.

"Gather together, everyone!" The Chieftain bellowed to the village. "The esteemed grandchild of the great hero Hercule has blessed us with her presence! She is also the grandchild of Uub's wise and sage martial arts instructor, Son Goku!"

"Can y-?" Pan tried to speak, but outstretched hands and joyful voices overwhelmed her. "Put me d-!"

What kind of village was this? How in the world was she going to get any training done now? Displayed like a delicate, untouchable flower to be admired by strangers? Pan didn't want to flare her ki to break free, but it's not like she's faced with many options at the moment.

What did eventually break the occasion was a loud bang from behind her. The impact against the Chieftain was enough to release his grip on Pan.

"Parading a child around the village!" a woman yelled behind the Chieftain. "You have some nerve, I swear!"

Pan looked past the Chieftain to the woman wielding a frying pan, ready to strike again. The posture and attire reminded her too much of Chichi, which made her gulp as a reflex.

"Go on, get! Back to what you were doing!" the woman yelled to the other villagers. They dispersed as fast as they had gathered to celebrate Pan unceremoniously. Beneath this plump woman's malicious glare, Pan could see the same nurturing gentleness she knew Chichi and her mother had. "You poor sweet girl, I should've greeted you sooner," the woman said as she approached to examine her.

"It's okay," Pan assured her. Awkward as all this was, Pan was relieved it didn't leave her shaken. The last thing she'd want to experience at the start of her training was unwanted stress and anxiety over being smothered by a crowd of praising villagers.

"Let's move you away from this fool of a Chief," the woman said, directing Pan to Uub's house ahead. A table awaited Pan with dishes and cutlery set up by a pair of younger children who bore a striking resemblance to Uub. They must be his brother and sister, Pan thought.

"Careful, Coco!" the boy shouted at the house. "Get Natta to help you carry that!"

Twin boys carried a cauldron double their size to the table. The teamwork of these four astounded her, but there was no sign of either Uub or Goku. "Grandpa? Uub?"

"They're at the river. I told them to wash up before coming back," said the woman. "Did you salt the meat as I asked?" she directed to the twins.

"Yes, Mama," Coco replied. Pan couldn't recognize them apart. Everything from their clothes to their hair was an exact copy of the other. The clothing reminded her of the first time she saw Uub. A dark brown top draped over one shoulder, loose white pants and not a single piece of footwear. These must've been hand-me-downs from when Uub was their age. The other two siblings helped their mother into her chair. "Easy, Mama. You shouldn't have overexerted yourself like that," the girl told her.

"None so much that I needn't give the chieftain a taste of humility, Pitaya," their mother told her. Once she had sat down, the woman showed her age. Pan caught on to more features that she hadn't seen at first glance: Graying hair, wrinkles and a dip in her posture. Uub's mother was strong of heart, but Pan was thankful her children had the good sense to help her. Five children compared to her as an only child would add years to anyone's life. Absent from this get-together, Pan noticed, was the father.

"Th-thank you for helping me back there," Pan said, realizing she hadn't expressed her gratitude yet. "I'm Pan."

"Pan. That is a nice name," the mother said. "These are my darlings. Caram, Pitaya, and my babies, Coco and Natta."

Pan was immediately enthralled by the pearl necklace around Pitaya's neck. The young teenage girl had good fashion sense in her own unique way, with a glow to her skin that would probably make Bulla jealous if the two ever met. She wore other accessories, from ivory earrings to bracelets that looked to be self-carved and painted. She looks pretty.

Caram was built much like Uub, except for his hair. While he didn't have Uub's unique mohawk, the boy's curled hair was an ever-present feature. All he'd need were sunglasses, and Pan would compare him to a rising movie star.

While Caram adjusted his afro, Coco and Natta were still working on the cauldron's contents. Each took turns stirring the pot, Coco in one direction and Natta in another.

Pan savored the island's food for the first time. She found that the sweet flavors mixed with savory and spice did not overwhelm her palate. This is delicious! Did those twin boys make all of this?

The more she ate, the more it dawned on her the similarities between techniques used in preparing everything. The way the vegetables were diced, the way the meat was evenly seasoned and the way the flavors all blended in a symphony of culinary delight. Pan nearly lost herself in the nostalgia. She also noted how happy the children looked while eating. It was food only a loving mother could make. Nostalgia made her think of her mother and grandmother's cooking back home, even though she had only left an hour ago. As lunch, it was a feast.

"Were you not hungry, dear?" their mother asked. "I ate before I left, but I couldn't say no to what you made, Miss," Pan replied. The scents were still wafting in the air of fruits and vegetables. Even the subtle smokiness used for their red meat gave it extra flavoring. "Thank you for the food."

Pan was given some space in Pitaya's room with an extra cot. After settling in and leaving her backpack behind, Pan rejoined Uub and Goku outside at the bottom of the small hill.

"I'm fired up and ready to train, Grandpa!" Pan shouted, stretching her arms. "Do I get to spar with you or with Uub to start?"

Uub was remarkably flexible in the way he stretched. He bent forward in such a way Pan paused mid-stretch to marvel at him. She conjured from memory all the times she had spent during their light training but never once did she see Uub stretch to this extent. I should get Uub to teach me how to stretch like that.

"There's no sparring needed," Goku told them.

"Eh?"

"We're not fighting, Master?" Uub asked, echoing Pan's confusion. How does one go about training for five months without sparring once?

Goku produced a capsule from his pocket. "This is what you'll be using for your training," he told them. Activating the capsule, he tossed it to the ground. A container with the Capsule Corporation logo on its side emerged from the cloud of smoke. Goku lifted the lid to reveal two turtle shells with straps. Uub and Pan were left even more puzzled.

"Turtle shells?" Uub asked. He grabbed one of them to pull it out but found it incredibly heavier than he intended. "What the-?!"

"I don't understand," Pan said. Uub needed both hands to pull the turtle shell out of the container, making Pan wonder if the other one was equally heavy. She grabbed the straps and pulled, yet it didn't budge. "What kind of turtle shell is this if I can't lift it?!"

"Ah, sorry! That one's meant for Uub. He grabbed yours first," Goku told them before using one hand to pull the turtle shell Pan struggled with. Laying the second one at their feet, Pan and Uub exchanged glances before she pointed them out to Goku.

"How is this training, Grandpa?" she asked bluntly.

"You carry them on your backs," Goku said. "Why'd you think there're straps attached to them?"

"Weighted turtle shells," Uub mused. He still needed some effort to lift the turtle shell Pan had difficulty with, yet he was able to slide his arms into the straps.

Pan reached for hers, watching Uub walk around awkwardly to adjust his movement and posture. Hers didn't have the ridiculous amount of weight that Uub's had, yet she still needed both hands to lift it to sling it on her back. The weight pushed down on her first, causing her to flail her arms forward to stop herself from falling, only for the weight to pull her in the other direction. After a moment of finding her center of gravity in all this, she turned to Uub, who was already walking as if he never wore the damn thing in the first place. "You're kidding me…!"

The only solution she could think of to aid her was to heighten her ki enough to lighten the load of the shell. The problem was that both Goku and Uub were staring at her.

"Pan, you'll tire yourself out usin' your ki like that," Goku told her.

"But how else am I supposed to keep this thing on without getting crushed underneath it? How much does this thing weigh, anyway?" Pan said. Releasing her ki, Pan slumped forward from the shell's weight, groaning.

"I can't tell ya," Goku said, smiling. "But I know you'll adjust to it quickly."

"That still doesn't answer my question! What does this have to do with our training? I can't fight in this!" Pan whined.

"Pan has a point, Master. I figure the added weight acts as a handicap, but I'm curious what new technique I can learn from this," Uub said. Pan saw his hands on her shoulders to ease her up. "I gotcha."

"Th-thank you, Uub," Pan said. He's been very nice these last couple of weeks.

"No new technique, no fighting. Nothing of that nature," Goku said matter-of-factly. "You'll be training the Turtle Hermit way."

Pan understood now. The turtle shell should've been a dead giveaway, but she had been too focused on the weight to realize their purpose.

Muten Roshi, Goku's martial arts teacher, imparted a great deal of wisdom and experience that Goku had passed on to Uub, according to what she had been told. She remembered the old man's face a few times but never realized she'd implement his training regime.

"For the next few months, you'll be working hard while wearing those shells on your back. I've made arrangements with the Chieftain and a few people back home for you both to work with," Goku instructed. Pan slumped again. "You can't be serious…!"

"I did a lot of work when I was your age. But it helped me get stronger for my first Tournament," Goku said. He counted on his hand. "Remember the way of the Turtle Hermit! Move well! Play well! Eat well! Er, um…." He paused, scratching his head. "How'd the rest of it go? Poop well? No, that can't be it." He then snapped his fingers. "Wait here! Be right back!"

Instead of finishing his sentence, he touched his forehead with two fingers to teleport away. Within seconds, he returned with an old bearded man wearing sunglasses, board shorts, and an unbuttoned shirt with a tropical pattern, holding a rolled-up magazine.

"What? What's going on?!" yelled the old man. Once he had his bearings together, he glanced up at Goku. "Should'a asked me first," he grumbled.

"Sorry, old-timer! I forgot how the way of the Turtle hermit went!" Goku said. What better way of imparting wisdom than from the source?

"Seriously? Well, you always had a habit of forgetting, m'boy," said the old man. Uub bowed formally with his hands together. "You must be Muten Roshi. It's an honor to meet you, sir!"

Roshi paused to gander at Uub. "So this is him, huh?"

"Yep!" Goku shouted proudly. The accomplished look on Goku's face was such that Pan couldn't look away. Judging by how strong Uub was each time she sparred with him, it had to be an accomplishment on her grandfather's part to train him so well.

She also noticed how long Roshi had been staring at Uub. Not enough to make the adolescent uncomfortable, but enough to make her wonder if there was something the old man caught on to that she hadn't noticed yet.

"I see you've decided to impart some of my training onto them, huh, boy?" Roshi said. "I couldn't be prouder knowin' that my teaching can be passed on to a worthy successor. Ya did good, Goku."

"That's why I wanted you to tell them the way of the Turtle Hermit," Goku said, bowing with his hands together.

"Alright. Listen closely, children. The secret to mastering the way of the Turtle: Move well, study well, eat well, and rest well," Roshi explained, posturing with his hands behind his back.

Another piece of the puzzle that connected everything, Pan realized. That must've been why her father packed study materials in her backpack before she left. The notion that studying was equally important during her training meant that this Turtle Hermit methodology laid the grounds for a balanced martial artist. It put forth a question about her desire to achieve the Super Saiyan state. Was it even worth it?

"Thank you, old-timer!" Goku said, patting Roshi on the back so stiffly the magazine he was holding fell to the ground. Roshi scrambled to grab it, only for a gust of wind to blow the pages open, revealing the center pictorial of what was revealed to be an adult magazine. Pan and Uub couldn't hide their shock from seeing the image and immediately averted their eyes, red in the face. "How can an old and wise martial arts teacher look at something like that?!" Pan yelled, closing her eyes. I can't sleep knowing I peeked at something I shouldn't!

"Sorry, sorry!" Goku shouted. Roshi cleared his throat, reclaiming his "goods." "Really should'a asked me first, m'boy."

When Goku returned by himself, he clapped his hands. "You're all set now. Good luck and train well. Remember what the old-timer said."

The heat still hadn't left Pan's cheeks. "How could I forget…?"

"So what are you going to be doing, Master? Will you be overseeing our training?" Uub asked. It amazed Pan that Uub dismissed that embarrassment earlier to get straight to the point as if the whole accident never happened. The heat in her cheeks shifted.

"I got other things I need to take care of. I'll be back a month before the Tournament for something extra special. You'll have four months to work hard and help those who need it," Goku explained before touching his forehead again.

"So you're leaving again…," Pan whispered. Most of the time she spent with Goku, he always ended up with something that needed his attention. While she didn't mind that he'd return to working on the farm, it was other moments where he'd say he had to go but never revealed why he had to go or who he was meeting if he was teleporting somewhere.

"I ain't gonna be gone that long, Pan. Besides, I'll be there at the Tournament, givin' ya all my support!" Goku said. He laid his hands on her's and Uub's heads. "I know this training will be useful to both of ya. Uub," Goku turned to Uub. "Once the Tournament's over, I want to have a good and proper fight. I know you're ready now."

Pan raised an eyebrow. "A fight? Like, to the death…?"

Uub chuckled nervously. "No! No, it's not that kind of fight. Master promised a proper fight once my training was complete and the timing was right. We will use the Room of Spirit and Time as our location, so we don't cause too much destruction."

"That's the weird room up at Kami's lookout, right?" Pan asked. Uub nodded. "I'm ready for this, Master."

Uub bowed once more to Goku, hand over fist. Pan copied the gesture, though less enthusiastically. What would be an exciting five months with her grandfather was now a list of chores and labors that she'd have to perform while keeping up with her studies.

This wasn't training.

This was work.

A long-awaited reunion

A lone farmer plowed the field. The Sun's rays weren't harsh, but that didn't stop the farmer from removing his toque. "Couple more hours, and I'll get the machine going," he said.

Plowing worked up enough sweat to soak through his shirt. He hoped a breeze would cool him off but settled for water he collected from a pump. "I swear those boys need to be tethered to a pole," he grunted.

He needed a break. Taking a seat on the ground beside the water pump, he quenched his thirst. The water of Planet Seren was pure and refreshing, re-energizing even. Something about it provided enough vitality that he was barely fatigued through his aging bones. He'd almost equate it to a fountain of youth if it could erase his wrinkles.

Those "boys" were trying his patience, however. "Bok! Choi! Where'd you run off to?" he shouted. Cooling the rest of his body with a full pail of water, he called it a day by grabbing his hoe and marching back to his shed. "I better see both your faces when I come back out!"

It was not Bok and Choi that he saw when he exited the shed. There stood a man in a blue gi and a white belt. Martial artist clothing wasn't uncommon to him, but what did jog his memory was the man's peculiar spiked hairstyle. That and the fact he appeared out of thin air.

The farmer studied the strange new presence with caution. No one can appear out of the blue on Planet Seren, not with the ongoing cosmic storms that block access to and from the planetary system.

"You look familiar," the farmer said. He looked closer. His intuition indicated no malice, but he'd have to press him for more info.

"Yo!" said the martial artist, waving at him. "Long time no see! Is Broly around?"

"Broly's not here," the farmer replied. "What's your business with him?" he quickly asked before correcting himself. "Rather, how'd you get here? Where's your ship?"

"Instantaneous movement. You didn't forget I could do that?" the stranger said. His head titled, even more puzzled. "You don't remember? It's me, Son Goku!"

Son Goku. Has it been that long? Five years, was it? The farmer approached Goku. He was less cautious, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. "Yeah, I remember a name like that. We had that debacle on Earth, didn't we?"

"Ah!" Goku yelled, pointing at the farmer. "I remember your name now! It was Lemonade, right?"

"It's Lemo, you ingrate," Lemo said. He sighed heavily. No need for caution anymore now that his memory of this idiot had returned. "As I said, Broly's not here. He won't be back until dinnertime."

Goku then touched his forehead with two fingers. "Ah, his ki's over there. It's not easy finding this place. I can sense ki signatures grouped around here, but that was the best starting point. Took me a while, too."

As he was talking, two shadows emerged from a thicket of trees. One moved like a blur, while the other was slower. Both were too fast for Lemo's eyes to follow. By the time Lemo's vision adjusted, the two boys he called for were engaged in a fight with Goku.

"Bok! Choi! What're you two doing?!" Lemo shook his head at this sudden predicament. He thought Goku would be overwhelmed by the sudden attack, but the Saiyan's arms were moving to block each strike with ease.

"So if I fly in that direction, I'll find Broly, right?" Goku asked Lemo while still in the middle of blocking Bok and Choi's blows. Lemo was still beside himself with awe.

The boys changed their approach, but that only made Goku dodge each incoming attack. The man wasn't even looking at the boys while dodging them! He was still waiting for Lemo to give him an answer. What's this guy been up to? The boys can't even land a single hit on him.

"Bok! Choi! That's enough!" Lemo shouted again, only this time it reached them. They stopped mid-attack to land on the ground. "He's on that first set of mountains over there," Lemo said to Goku.

"Not cool, mister!" said the boy with a white mohawk. "Bok and I won't stand for invaders on our planet!"

The other, named Bok, had a much thicker build than his brother. He had a different style to his hair, tied back with a leather cord to leave a thin strand draped below his head. He shrugged. "It's pointless, Choi. We can't hit him."

"That's only because I wasn't serious. Take that as a warning!" Choi said to Goku, pointing at him before back at himself with his thumb. "I'm Choi, and that's my twin brother, Bok. We're the strongest Saiyan pair in the universe next to our dad, Broly!"

"Ah. I believe ya," Goku said with a nod. "See ya! Later, Lemo!"

"Eh-?!"

"Where'd he go?" Bok asked. Goku disappeared before the boys could process what happened.

"Let's go beat an answer out of him," Choi said.

"Not so fast! You two have to explain why you weren't helping me on the crops this morning!" Lemo shouted.

"Sorry, Uncle Lemo," Bok said, bowing. "Choi left the house before sunrise. I spent all morning looking for him."

"I was catching fish for dinner," Choi said.

"Dad catches the fish. We're supposed to help Uncle Lemo," Bok replied. Choi waved him off. "Dad's off doing his meditation thing again. When's he got time to fish?"

Lemo rounded on Choi. "He fishes to help control his anger. He also meditates for that reason. Besides," he pointed at another shed behind the one he stored his tools in. "We have plenty of fish stocked as is. What other excuse are you going to use, Choi?"

"Sorry, Uncle Lemo," Bok said. "I'll help you finish today before dinner."

"Thanks, Bok!" Choi shouted as he sprinted away. "Choi! Dammit!" Bok shouted back, leaping into the air to follow him.

Lemo shook his head. "You're going to try your father's patience faster than mine, I swear."

Once Goku appeared near Broly, the large Saiyan was in the middle of a state of relaxation, meditating with his legs crossed. "Yo, Broly!" Goku called out to him. The Saiyan did not stir.

Goku poked and prodded, expecting a reaction. Broly did not flinch or shift. "Awesome. You've got quite a knack for that."

"Hey! Get away from my dad!" Choi shouted from above. Goku turned to see an incoming ki blast that he deflected away. "W-wait a minute!" Goku protested. Choi wasn't listening. He continued firing several ki blasts Goku deflected away from the area. Explosions rocked the mountain range, making Goku wonder if that wouldn't break Broly from his state. "I just want to talk to him!"

"Don't play games, invader! You're not going to hurt my dad!" Choi shouted. He blipped away, reappearing from below for an uppercut. Goku dodged it, along with several others. "Nice, I can tell your speed's increased!"

"Then why can't I hit you?!" Choi yelled. Goku caught his fist. Clamping his hand down, he used the momentum to launch Choi in a different direction. His other hand moved on its own to block an incoming punch from Bok, who had caught up with his brother.

"What the-?" Bok whispered. He relaxed his fist. "How'd your hand move like that?" he asked Goku. Before Goku could answer, Bok's eyes widened. Choi descended from where he was thrown but stopped mid-way. From behind Goku, Broly eyed his sons. Goku could tell the large Saiyan was unimpressed.

"Father," Bok whispered. He hung his head, expecting a scolding from his father, but Broly was more focused on Choi.

"What's going on here?" Broly asked Choi. The leaner twin with the white mohawk landed near Goku and pointed him out. "We're preventing this guy from attacking you, dad."

"He's not a stranger. He is Kakarrot, a friend of mine," Broly said, gesturing to Goku. Goku grinned, hearing that said of him. "He would not have come here without a reason."

"Yeah," Goku said. He couldn't contain his eagerness to get straight to the point. "Where I come from, we have a Tournament where fighters worldwide gather. I've participated in a few myself."

"The heck's a Tournament?" Choi asked. His posturing had an abundance of confidence, regardless of what happened earlier.

"I'd like to know, myself," Bok interjected. The twins, similar in every way, had developed their unique styles based on how they grew up. Choi's wrists and ankles were taped up with the color matching those of the little trophies he wore around his neck. Fangs, claws and bones hung from a leather cord as prizes the boy was proud to show off. Around his waist was a light green fur pelt that matched the one Bok draped over his shoulders with a hole for his head to pop through. Goku took a moment to realize that it resembled the pelt Broly had worn around his waist, but the very article itself was not present on the Saiyan.

"It's a series of fights on a stage where the rules are that you have to knock your opponent off, make them give up, or knock them out. Killing is forbidden, but you win as long as your opponent can't continue the fight. You advance until you're declared the champion, and you win a big prize," Goku explained. The boys' faces lit up once Goku began before turning to each other with excitement.

"So if we fight in this Tournament, we can fight other people?" Bok asked Goku.

"Yep! You draw lots to determine who you'll fight first, then fight the winner of the match after yours if you win."

"Can you believe it, Bok? We can prove ourselves the best against others! Alright, Mister! We'll play in this Tournament! When do we go?" Choi asked, making Goku chuckle.

"It's a while yet. The Tournament takes place May 7th next year," Goku said.

"May 7th?!" Choi yelled. "What the hell are we supposed to do until then? Why tell us about this cool thing we can do if we can't do it yet?"

"Choi, language," Broly said, eyeing him. "Your mother must approve this first."

Broly's emotional control intrigued Goku. He'd improved since they met, showing incredible restraint when stress became a factor. Broly patted his boys on the head. "Go help Lemo on the farm."

"Yes, Father," Bok said without hesitation. Choi sighed. "Can't I spar some more with that guy?" he asked, pointing at Goku.

"I will not ask twice, Choi. Go, now," Broly said more sternly. Choi lowered his eyes. "Yes, dad."

"They are less of a problem when they work together," Broly said of his sons after being out of earshot.

Goku chuckled. "Choi kinda reminds me of Vegeta sometimes," he said. There was no mistaking the boy's attitude and over-confidence. He acted much like a younger version of Vegeta, who was so assured of himself that Goku wondered if he had the same temper when put in a losing situation.

"Your clothing is different from what I remember," Broly noted, eyeing Goku's blue gi. Broly, too, had a different style to him. He wasn't bogged down in Freeza Force attire. Rather, he was dressed comfortably, reflecting his peaceful aura. This planet had done wonders to handle Broly's temper. It made him curious about the extent of his power and how well he could control it.

"Say, Broly. I'd like to see how good your control has become," Goku offered. Broly didn't pause to consider it, only giving a simple answer. "I'm no longer fighting, Kakarrot. It is not worth the trouble."

No longer fighting? That was a first for Goku. What was it about the last few years that changed Broly's approach to fighting? Was it all these meditation exercises, or could it be life on this planet that's drawn him away from conflict for so long?

"No way! Seriously…?" Goku asked.

"These hands have not seen violence for years now," Broly said. Rather than sulk, the large Saiyan smiled. "I grew up in a hostile environment. Father wanted these hands to hurt others, but I wanted them to play with friends that I make. Friends like Ba. Ba now lives on with Bok and Choi, so he can still play."

So that explains why those kids were wearing the pelt that was once around Broly's waist. There was no mistake that this Ba creature now existed as a member of Broly's family.

"Don't you want to control your full power?" Goku asked. He was still curious about the nature of Broly's pacifism, yet the Saiyan's smile never wavered.

"I am content where I am now, Kakarrot," Broly said. "I do not wish to burden myself with something unneeded."

What would Vegeta say if he heard about all of this? "I want those kids to fight in the Tournament. They'll be great fighters."

"There is no need to worry about my sons, however. I gave them the choice my father could not," Broly said. "Some time spent with your friends and family back on your planet would help. I had considered the option to travel the galaxy when they were old enough and ready."

"Yeah." I want those boys in the Tournament. They'll be the ideal challenge Uub needs.