Author's Note: Massive apologies, I accidentally uploaded the same chapter twice yesterday and only realized when I was going to bed. It has been fixed, so please go and check it out if you saw the error.

- End Note -

The conveyor belt carried Broly to his tomb. The journey of no more than fifty feet felt to him like a hundred lifetimes.

The belt was suspended in mid air and moved them along steadily, going quick enough so that the roots coming out of the bare dirt walls couldn't catch them. The roots were so thick that in the darkness of the cave dirt Broly mistook them as paint, then watched in horror as it molted off of the ceiling to try and stretch out to grab him.

Quinny said that her suit's ki repulsion waves would keep the vines far and away, but that didn't make Broly's goosebumps go away. He felt as if the vines were sniffing for them, wrapping around their personal bubble to find any point of weakness.

If he tried to go back where they had come, back to the decontamination room of cold steel, and then further back into the Tuffle's headquarters, he would be snagged by the roots immediately. The fate that he had consigned himself to was now set.

There could be no one to save him from the nightmare that nearly consumed both Nappa's mind and body, he'd be alone to bear it for as long as he could hold on, or until the miracle of someone saving him happened.

But they had already struggled so hard to get this far; Raditz and Kakarot were nowhere to be seen and possibly dead, He'd seen Nappa already get one of his eyes gouged out by Mireau, his best hopes laid in Vegeta, but he had an entire underground army he had no knowledge of to fight through. Assuming he even thought him worth saving.

They'd given him a choice, a path he could take, and he had followed it as best he could. He would die knowing he didn't have to be that monster anymore.

At the first sound of his choked down sob, Broly's executioner said from behind him, "Quiet. You're a saiyan, aren't you? You're supposed to be a true warrior, someone who doesn't cry in the face of death."

But he would. Accepting his death was the first choice he ever got to freely make, and he would experience every second of it as he pleased.

Broly looked over his shoulder, down to his executioner. She had her arms crossed over her chest and even through the dark tint of her white and bulky ki protection suit's helmet, he could see a scowl over her face.

He couldn't help but to crack a smile at the sight. His enemy, a group that had held a grudge against saiyans for decades, looked so similar to Vegeta that the resemblance was uncanny.

As they got closer to the slowly beating heart of the planet, a dim white glow lit the tunnel. The light traveled through the roots and seeped out of its cracks and ridges.

"The Tree of Might," Quinny said, "Soon there won't be any ki left on this planet, drained until its just an oversized asteroid. Scientists hope that the mission will be over before that and they can destroy the tree and undo the damage. Do you think that giving yourself up will make that possible?"

Broly nodded his head and looked ahead, staring at the sleeping red Namekian. They were wrapped like a cocoon in the tree's limbs. Only their face was visible and they seemed to be at complete peace

There were so few Namekians left when they got to Roug, but Broly was certain he hadn't met this one. If he was one of the survivors from their invasion,maybe this was his way of getting revenge. But how would they know to work with the Tuffles, how did they get into the tree, why was there an identical tree on Roug when they went there, and how did they know to time planting it just right for their arrival?

They were questions Broly knew he'd never get the answer to, but wondering about them gave his mind something to do besides think of his friends.

Quinny continued, "The namekian is in it for the long haul. Being able to to regenerate and live off of only water make this easyfor them. But you? Well, I hope the tales about you are true, for your sake."

"The tales about me?"

"Before bed, I used to always hear tales about Vegeta Squadron, about how you all used to be one of the most terrifying forces in the galaxy… but things fell apart, and some things just weren't meant to be."

The conveyor belt came to a stop as it reached its end. If Broly reachout his hand, he could touch the Namekian with the tips of his fingers.

With the click of a button on Quinny's suit, the roots were finally able to finish their chase. They wrapped themselves around Broly's ankles and wrists, pulling him off the conveyor belt and hoisting him into the air.

Before the roots wrapped themselves around Broly's throat, the last thing he asked Quinny was the only mystery he had any hope of solving. "Who would tell you stories like that?"

With the roots now wrapping around his face, the last thing he saw was Quinny clicking a button on the side of her helmet. The glass on her helmet retracted upwards, and for a brief moment he saw her face in all of its determined arrogance, filled with the same type of pride that he'd seen his comrades show on hundreds of planets.

"If today isn't pointless, then someday I'll be able to answer that question for you." With her face exposed and her repulsor turned off, the roots snuck towards her.

Broly wanted to scream for her to close her helmet, but the roots had already constricted everything but his eyes and nose. He could no longer act, only watch.

"My mom always said that everything happens for a reason, Broly," Quinny said as a tendril of roots closed in, only millimeters away from her face. "Here's to proving her wrong."

Quinny pressed her helmet's button, the visor snapped shut, and Broly's vision was cut off as he was dragged into the heart of the Tree of Might.

Form.

It was a thought that he knew didn't come from himself, but instead manifested him.

He existed in some form he barely comprehended, beyond physical and only of his own energy. But his energy was nothing in comparison to what made him, he was a speck of dust against the cosmos.

But he didn't have to be against it. It wanted him to join. He could feel himself being beckoned towards the being each moment, towards becoming the next step of being.

See

The euphoria of acceptance was dashed as roots formed from the ether of nothingness around him and encased him in a shell.

First there was only darkness, but as the moments passed he saw a yellow sky grow above him, and mountainous green ground spread around him. He was back home.

He grew out of the ground of planet Vampa, a shapeless mound of soil that shaved away at itself bit by bit. Excess clumps of his being fell away until he became who he had unfortunately always been. Broly, son of Paragus.

He looked to his hand, flexing the wads of dirt into fists as his flesh grew around him. The skin felt suffocating as it covered him, cutting him off from where he belonged with every inch it covered.

In front of him, the dirt collected itself again. It took the form of hundreds of small collections, all piling together until they were one mountain that stretched farther than his eyes could see. As the mountain took shape into a figure, its torso and arms were visible, but the head went past the clouds.

But Broly didn't need to see the face to know who it was.

"Another failure," his father said. "All you have to do is use the power you were born with. Why is that so hard for you?"

"Because it's scary," Broly knew he spoke the words, but he couldn't hear them.

Behind him he could hear the ground quake and rip apart as another form emerged, a hunched behemoth formed of magma. Broly knew it was himself, it was the rage within him, the force that had finally found its way to escape.

"I gave up everything for you, and this is how you repay me? Do you know how much I've sacrificed? How much your mother sacrificed? If she could see you now, she'd be rolling over in her grave."

His father's voice shook the ground beneath them, and though his body was now covered in skin, he could feel every speck of soil within him shaking.

"I'm sorry."

"You're always sorry and you're always afraid! I'm sick of it! You are a saiyan! You can be the strongest one in the galaxy if you just stopped being such a coward for one second in your miserable life. Our family should be the ones ruling planet Vegeta, but because of your sniveling attitude, we're stuck on the outskirts of the galaxy fighting for scraps."

"I'm sorry."

"You're pathetic is what you are. You make me wish I had a weakling for a son, then at least you would make sense."

"I'm sorry."

His father's fist came down quickly on him, but just as it was about to land, both of them returned to their correct form. Specks, just as inconsequential as they were meant to be.

But the behemoth remained. He fumed and seethed, sending waves of lava across the planet in its rage.

Broly felt himself burning with the planet and tried to scream, but nothing came out, and the planet continued to roast.

The earth quaked again and the pain stopped. The behemoth stopped its rampage to watch as the water from a lake rose and took the shape of a long beast with round ears.

Ba, his best friend on the planet, a fuzzy beast who protected him through thick and thin. He couldn't remember when he stopped seeing him, but he knew why as the voice of his father rang from the sky.

"You're pathetic!"

The behemoth roared, lava conquered the lake, and Ba was no more. The planet was consumed by flame and his father cheered in joy.

The sky was peeled away as the roots encasing Broly in a shell unfurled themselves, and Broly screamed. He screamed harder than he ever had in his life, with more pain than he had ever felt, but he screamed into nothing but the void.

And someday

The roots didn't need to take him again. As the thought ran through his mind, the void crafted it in front of him.

The behemoth would consume all of them, one day it would swallow him and he'd never come back. They would all be burned by him, torn limb from limb and scorched to ashes; Vegeta, Kakarot, Nappa, and Raditz. All Raditz and Kakarot had ever tried to do was help him, and he would kill them. As long as they were all alive, it was a guarantee that he would eventually be the end of them.

He had killed people the same way he killed Ba. He would just get so mad sometimes that he couldn't even think, couldn't remember anything, and then.

He had gotten better at controlling it over the years, but all it took was one mistake, one moment where he let that anger get the better of him, and it would all be over.

They were wrong to try and help him, everyone who'd ever spent two seconds on him, they were only putting themselves in danger. His own squadron, Beelo, all of the people he'd talked to and all of the things they'd ever taught him, they'd be better off if he was gone, if he had never met them to begin with.

There is always purpose. There is always somewhere to grow.

A root reached out to him and he didn't hesitate for a moment. With one touch he felt his ki disperse, and he was Broly no more.

There was silence. Not the silence of peace or terror, but of reflection, growth, and acceptance.

He grew not to new horizons, but into a new framework. One of many grains in the dirt, one drop in the bucket, another swatch on the palette, a needed piece of a whole.