Miles from where they had witnessed Frieza's demise, the mysterious warrior descended into a small clearing bordered by rocky outcroppings. The others followed, their landing stirring dust from the sun-baked earth. Cellera's attention fixed on the capsule the stranger retrieved from his jacket, her eyes catching the distinctive Capsule Corp logo that matched the one emblazoned on his clothing.
With a soft click and practiced toss, the capsule burst open to reveal a fully-stocked refrigerator. The casual display of Capsule Corp technology made her think of the countless times she'd watched Bulma demonstrate new inventions. For a fleeting moment, she considered whether she might have seen this warrior during her time at the compound, but the thought dissolved as quickly as it formed. Another Saiyan's presence would have been impossible to miss.
"We still have almost three hours until Goku arrives," the stranger announced as he selected a drink with the easy familiarity of someone accustomed to the technology. "I have plenty of different drinks, so help yourselves."
Bulma wasted no time approaching the fridge, her scientific curiosity evident as she examined the model. "I don't recognize this design," she mused, fingers tracing the company logo. "Is this a prototype I haven't seen?"
While her father maintained his distance, arms crossed and eyes sharp with distrust, the others gradually moved forward. Gohan brightened as he discovered an orange soda nestled among the selections - his favorite. Cellera found herself scanning the available options, a small frown forming as she noted the absence of strawberry. The flavor had captured her interest from her first taste of Earth's fruits, though she'd initially tried to hide her enthusiasm to maintain some semblance of Saiyan dignity.
"Looking for one of these?"
The stranger's voice drew her attention. He held out a strawberry soda, his expression carrying that same unsettling familiarity that had nagged at her since his arrival. She accepted the can with measured thanks, studying his features as she took a careful sip. Not only had he preserved this specific flavor, but he'd done so with the certainty of someone who knew it would be wanted. Combined with his earlier display of Saiyan power, the gesture added another layer to the mystery of his identity.
As Krillin reached for his own drink, Bulma's voice carried a note of puzzlement. "Have we met somewhere before?"
"Huh? N-No, I don't believe so..." The stranger's composure cracked for the first time as he quickly diverted his eyes from Bulma. Cellera caught the slight strain in his voice, the way his ki flickered with momentary unease. The reaction seemed oddly specific for someone claiming no connection to them.
"Where do you know my dad from?" Gohan's innocent question drew the stranger's attention.
"I've only heard stories about him. I've never met him before."
Something in his careful response stirred Cellera's instincts. She moved forward, positioning herself between Gohan and their mysterious ally. The stranger's eyes widened slightly at her protective stance before his calm mask slipped back into place.
"How do you know Kakarot will arrive in exactly three hours?" The questions tumbled out with precise intensity. "Who are you? Where did you come from?" Each word carried the weight of authority she'd inherited from her father - who, she noticed, watched with an approving smirk as she echoed his own earlier interrogation.
The stranger met her rapid-fire questioning without hesitation. "I can't tell you that. I'm sorry." His composure in the face of her demands suggested familiarity, as if he'd weathered similar interrogations before.
Instead of the defensiveness she expected, he offered a gentle smile that struck her with its similarity to Bulma's - the same warmth reflected in eyes that matched her guardian's shade of blue. "I promise, I don't mean any of you harm. My circumstances right now just prevent me from currently saying anything."
Cellera held his gaze, reading the sincerity in his expression. Despite his secrecy, she detected no malice in his ki, no hidden agenda beneath his careful words. After a long moment, she gave a slight nod. Whatever his reasons for concealment, her instincts told her he could be trusted - at least for now.
"Umm..." Gohan's voice carried a nervous edge as he broke the tension. "When you defeated Frieza, you turned into a Super Saiyan, right?"
The stranger offered a polite smile with his nod. "Yes, I did."
"Lies!" Vegeta's outburst crackled with familiar rage. "The only remaining Saiyans are myself, Kakarot - or 'Goku' as they call him here - and our children. There's no possible way that you could be one!"
Cellera felt a twinge of guilt as she noticed her father's omission of Uncle Tarble - the exiled prince whose existence was rarely acknowledged. Yet she couldn't entirely dismiss her father's logic. Their race had been reduced to a precious few survivors, each one known and accounted for. But the evidence before them was undeniable - the stranger's golden transformation had carried all the hallmarks of their legendary power.
"But we all saw him transform," Gohan pointed out, voicing her thoughts. "He was definitely a Super Saiyan."
"Not to mention, Saiyans are supposed to have all black hair." Vegeta's words carried absolute certainty.
Putting a thumb to her lip, Cellera considered this new angle. Pure Saiyan genetics consistently produced black hair - this was as much a fact as their tails or their innate fighting spirit. But what of mixed blood? Gohan's dark hair offered no insight, as both his parents shared that trait. But if one parent had possessed a different coloring...
"Don't think too hard."
The stranger's teasing tone snapped her from her thoughts. She turned sharply, finding him watching her with knowing amusement. The realization struck her like a ki blast - he had recognized her unconscious gesture, understood its meaning in a way only those closest to her would. Before she could challenge him on this intimate knowledge, Bulma's voice cut through her racing thoughts.
"Do you work at Capsule Corp?" Bulma gestured to the logo adorning his jacket. "I could have sworn I've seen you around."
"It's nothing like that, really." His insistence carried a hint of strain, as if fighting to maintain some crucial secret.
"So, that's a secret too, huh?" Bulma's tone turned playful. "Are your name and age a secret as well?"
"I can't tell you my name," he admitted, "but I can tell you that I'm 17 years old."
The casual admission only deepened the mystery surrounding him. Each new detail seemed to raise more questions than answers, yet Cellera couldn't shake the sense that all the pieces were there - she just couldn't see how they fit together. Not yet.
The stranger's persistent secrecy stirred unease among the group. "It's strange that he won't even tell us his name," Tien observed, with Yamcha nodding in agreement.
"Would you all stop with the questions?" Bulma interjected before tensions could rise further. "He just saved us and the entire planet, remember?" Her praise had an unexpected effect on their mysterious ally - his cheeks flushed as he avoided meeting her gaze, the confident warrior suddenly replaced by an awkward teenager.
The next twenty minutes passed in uneasy waiting. They arranged themselves across the clearing - Vegeta and the stranger taking positions on opposing rocks, their body language mirroring each other despite the obvious tension. Piccolo claimed a raised outcropping behind where Cellera sat with Gohan, Krillin, and Bulma, his back turned to them in characteristic stoicism. Tien, Chiaotzu, and Yamcha settled on rocks across from them, completing their makeshift circle.
Gohan rose suddenly, approaching his mentor. "How come you decided to stay here instead of going with the other Namekians to their new planet?"
Cellera's attention shifted to their exchange, remembering how differently Piccolo had answered when she'd posed the same question months ago. This time, he merely grunted, "I couldn't stomach living such a dull and boring life."
A knowing smirk crossed her features. While there was truth in his words, she knew the full story - how he'd remained partially for Gohan's sake, especially with Kakarot's absence. The proud warrior would never admit such sentiment openly, particularly to his young student.
"Don't you think they look alike?" Bulma's whispered question to Krillin caught Cellera's attention.
"Who?"
"Vegeta and our mystery man."
The observation drew Cellera's focus to the two figures. She studied them with newfound intensity, noting the similarities in the way they held themselves. Despite the stranger's unusual coloring, there was something in his features that echoed her father's own. As she watched, she caught the lavender-haired youth casting furtive glances between Vegeta and herself, as if searching for something in their faces.
The mounting peculiarities surrounding their mysterious ally - his Saiyan powers, his familiar mannerisms, his apparent knowledge of their habits and preferences - created a puzzle she couldn't quite solve. Each new piece seemed to contradict what she knew to be possible, yet the evidence of his powers was undeniable.
"Why do you keep staring at me like that? If you're a Saiyan, then I shouldn't be such an unusual sight!" Vegeta's growl shattered the tense silence. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your eyes off my daughter too."
The protective edge in her father's voice caught Cellera by surprise. Though he'd been absent for over a year, some paternal instincts apparently remained intact. She noticed Gohan tensing at Vegeta's words as he made his way back from his conversation with Piccolo. Without comment, he settled directly in front of her, his position casual but deliberately placed. The gesture might have seemed presumptuous coming from anyone else, but she'd learned to accept such protective impulses from her friend - even if she was more than capable of defending herself.
The stranger offered a flustered apology as he turned away, though not before Cellera caught the slight smile playing at his lips. Her father's mutter of "I don't like this boy" only seemed to amuse their mysterious ally further, as if he found some private joke in the situation.
A few minutes passed in strained silence before the stranger checked his watch and rose to his feet. "He should be arriving any moment now."
As if summoned by the words, a familiar ki signature blazed into existence - one they hadn't felt in over a year. The power carried echoes of that last battle on Namek, but tempered now, controlled.
"It's dad!" Gohan's voice rang with pure joy. "That's my dad's ki!"
The space pod's impact shook the earth as it carved a massive crater into the landscape. They gathered around the rim, the moment stretching with unbearable tension as steam hissed from the cooling metal. When the hatch finally opened, Kakarot emerged as if he'd never left, his familiar grin unchanged by the trials of space.
A chorus of joyful greetings erupted from the group, though Vegeta maintained his stoic distance. Only Kakarot would return from a year in space looking mildly confused by his welcoming committee. "What's everyone doing here?" He glanced around the crater's edge. "How did you know I'd be landing in this spot?"
"It was him," Bulma explained, gesturing to the stranger beside her. "He told us exactly where to find you."
Goku's confusion deepened as he studied their mysterious ally. "Who is he?"
"Y-You mean you don't know who he is at all?" Bulma's voice carried clear surprise.
"Nope, I've never seen him before."
"But he knew exactly when and where you were going to land!"
Goku scratched his head, "For real? That's pretty weird." His expression brightened. "Then again, Frieza spotted my ship and seemed to know when I'd be landing back on Earth too."
The mention of Frieza sparked new interest in his eyes. "Speaking of which, who was it that defeated him? I felt an amazing ki." He glanced between two likely candidates. "Was it Piccolo? Or maybe Vegeta?"
"It was the boy." Piccolo's response carried undisguised respect. "He dealt with Frieza and the others faster than you could blink, and he can become a Super Saiyan, just like you and Cellera."
"A Super Saiyan?" The words came out softly, weighted with implications that only another Saiyan could truly understand.
As Goku marveled at the stranger achieving such power at his age, Vegeta's frustration finally boiled over. "That's because there aren't any! It's impossible - there are no other Saiyans besides the ones standing right here!"
Cellera fought the urge to roll her eyes at her father's vehement denial. His refusal to acknowledge the evidence before them seemed rooted in something deeper than mere skepticism. She suspected his resistance had more to do with his own inability to achieve the legendary transformation than any real doubt about the stranger's heritage. She briefly considered mentioning Uncle Tarble but held her tongue - some family secrets were better left unspoken, especially given her father's current mood.
"May I have a word with you alone?" The stranger's request carried a new urgency. When Yamcha protested, questioning the need for secrecy, Goku simply raised a hand with his characteristic easy smile. "Sorry guys, just wait here for a bit."
The two Saiyans took to the air, settling at a distance where they remained visible but beyond earshot. Cellera watched their interaction with measured interest, noting how the stranger's usual composure seemed to falter slightly in Kakarot's presence.
The peaceful tableau shattered as golden light erupted around Kakarot. His transformation into Super Saiyan sent waves of ki washing over them, far more controlled yet somehow more potent than when she'd last witnessed it on Namek. The sheer power radiating from him drew gasps from the group.
"No wonder he could take down Frieza," Vegeta muttered, his tone carrying equal parts bitterness and awe. Cellera understood his reaction - having been conscious for Kakarot's first transformation on Namek, she could sense how much stronger he'd grown during his time in space.
"I still can't get used to seeing it," Bulma remarked, glancing at Cellera. "Even after all the times you've transformed during training."
Before anyone could respond, the stranger's ki flared as he too ascended to Super Saiyan. Golden light barely settled around him before he drew his sword, launching himself at Goku with deadly precision. Yet at the last possible moment, his blade halted a hair's breadth from contact.
Goku responded by raising a single finger. What followed defied belief - the stranger unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one aimed at vital points, while Goku deflected every attack with that same finger. The display ended as quickly as it began, the stranger powering down as he returned his sword to its sheath.
"What just happened?" Gohan whispered, tension evident in his voice.
"He was testing your father's strength," Cellera explained, having anticipated something like this from the moment the stranger had asked to speak privately. "Don't worry - I sensed no killing intent in his attacks. This was about confirmation, not combat."
As the two Saiyans resumed their discussion, Cellera caught a subtle shift in Piccolo's expression. His features tightened, that stoic mask cracking just enough to reveal genuine concern as his gaze flickered between her and Gohan. The look stirred a memory from their recent training sessions - Piccolo explaining how his fusion with Nail had enhanced his already superior Namekian hearing. But what could he have heard to provoke such a reaction? She hadn't seen that level of tension in his face since their confrontation with Frieza. Beside her, Gohan had also noticed the change, watching his mentor with growing unease.
Their attention snapped back to Goku as he suddenly collapsed, though Bulma's assumption of surprise didn't quite fit the gravity that seemed to weigh him down.
"How long are they going to stand there running their mouths?" Her father's impatient growl broke through the moment. Some things, at least, remained constant.
When the stranger finally departed, Kakarot approached them with uncharacteristic solemnity, his arms crossed in deep thought. His bearing reminded Cellera of that moment on Namek when he'd commanded them to leave - the same gravity that had transformed the usually lighthearted warrior into something more. Whatever he'd learned had clearly shaken even his steadfast confidence.
"What did he say?" Krillin voiced their collective curiosity.
"Ah-err... well it wasn't anything that important..." Kakarot's attempt at casual dismissal fell flat, his hand scratching the back of his head in that telling gesture she'd learned to read as discomfort.
Before she could challenge his obvious deception, Piccolo's voice cut through the pretense. "Talk, damn it. Something this important affects all of us."
"Y-You heard us?" Kakarot's shock confirmed Cellera's suspicions about the conversation's gravity.
"My sense of hearing is quite different from the rest of yours." Piccolo's tone carried none of his usual patience.
"What do you mean by important?" Cellera demanded, her royal authority surfacing in response to the mounting tension.
"If you won't tell them, I will." Piccolo's declaration sent Goku into near panic.
"B-But he said that-"
"I won't reveal anything that might jeopardize your friend," Piccolo cut him off. "But we shouldn't have to die because the rest of us lacked the motivation to commit to their training."
"DIE?!" The word erupted from multiple throats, echoing the horror that suddenly gripped Cellera's chest. What possible threat could be worse than what they'd already faced?
Piccolo's words fell like hammer blows into the tense silence. "The boy is from the future." He explained how their mysterious ally had traveled back to warn them - in three years, on May 12th at 10 AM, two androids would appear nine kilometers southwest of South City. His voice grew heavier as he continued, describing how they had all fallen in battle. Only Gohan and Cellera had initially survived, fighting on for thirteen years before meeting their own end.
The revelation that Goku would never even face these enemies struck particularly deep - a heart virus would claim him months before the androids' arrival. The warrior who had defeated Frieza, felled by an enemy he couldn't fight.
"Are we really supposed to believe he's from the future?" Yamcha's skepticism barely masked his fear. "It seems a little farfetched..."
"A time machine, huh?" Bulma mused softly, her scientific mind already processing the possibilities.
Cellera's thoughts raced through the implications. Artificial beings more powerful than Frieza and King Cold combined... the concept seemed impossible, yet she had witnessed too many "impossible" things to dismiss the warning. Her gaze drifted to Gohan, the weight of their shared future pressing down on her. Thirteen years of fighting, of watching their friends and family fall, only to ultimately fail themselves. The image of Gohan dying alone, with no one left to protect their world, settled like ice in her chest.
No. She wouldn't allow that future to manifest. Not when they had been given this chance to prevent it.
She found Gohan already looking at her, his expression mirroring her own determination. No words were needed - they had learned to read each other too well over their time together. The silent promise passed between them: this time would be different.
"What is that thing?!" Yamcha's startled cry drew their attention skyward. Their mysterious ally sat within what could only be his time machine, offering a final wave before both he and his vessel vanished into nothingness.
The spectacular departure erased any lingering doubts about his story. As one, the group reached the same conclusion - they would train as they had never trained before. The future was no longer set in stone, and they had three years to rewrite it.
"How did you survive the explosion on Namek?" Vegeta's demand cut through the heavy atmosphere left by their glimpse of the future. For once, his usual antagonism toward Kakarot carried genuine curiosity.
"That's right," Yamcha chimed in. "King Kai told us there was no way you could have made it out. Frieza's ship was completely destroyed."
Goku's expression brightened, though it lacked some of his usual lighthearted energy given the weight of what they'd just learned. "Honestly, I thought I was done for too. The ship was totaled, and everything was exploding around me. But then I spotted about five of those round pods nearby."
"Those belonged to the Ginyu Force." Cellera found herself speaking up, memories of that terrifying elite squad flooding back. She remembered how their arrival had sent waves of dread through everyone on Namek - even her father had shown genuine concern. Yet now, she felt an odd sense of gratitude toward their presence. Without those pods, Kakarot would have perished in Namek's destruction.
"Yeah! I was running out of options," Goku continued, gesturing as he recalled the desperate moments. "I managed to get inside one of them and just started hitting buttons. Next thing I knew, I was shooting through space. The pod ended up landing on this planet called Yardrat all by itself."
Her father's expression shifted as he processed this information, his strategic mind connecting the pieces. "The Ginyu Force must have been planning to attack that planet," he concluded. "That would explain why the ship was programmed to land there." His eyes narrowed as they swept over Kakarot's unusual attire - the pale colored garment with its distinctive patterns unlike anything they'd seen before. "So those bizarre clothes of yours belong to the Yardratians then?"
Cellera observed the exchange with interest. Where her father viewed anything foreign with immediate suspicion, especially in matters of appearance, Kakarot displayed his characteristic acceptance of whatever situation he found himself in. The same adaptability that had allowed him to turn even the Ginyu Force's presence on Namek to his advantage.
"Yeah, the Yardratians and I became friends pretty quickly," Goku explained, showing none of the concern for appearances that dominated Saiyan royal protocol. "They gave me these clothes after my gi got completely torn up." He spoke of befriending an alien race with the same casual ease he approached everything - a stark contrast to traditional Saiyan isolation.
Watching her father's barely concealed disdain, Cellera reflected on how her own perspectives had shifted during her time on Earth. She could understand both viewpoints now - her father's need to maintain Saiyan pride and tradition, and Kakarot's openness to new experiences and allies. Perhaps that willingness to learn from anyone, regardless of their origin, was part of what had helped him grow so powerful.
"Knowing you, Kakarot," her father's voice carried a hint of grudging respect beneath its usual edge, "I doubt you'd return from an alien world without learning something useful."
A familiar grin spread across Goku's face. "Well, I didn't have much time there, so they only taught me one technique." His expression shifted slightly. "Though it was a real pain to learn. They call it Instant Transmission."
Cellera found herself leaning forward despite herself. Any technique that had challenged Kakarot to master warranted attention.
"It's pretty specific in how it works," he explained, his usual casual demeanor belying the technique's complexity. "You have to visualize a person, not a place, then sense out their ki. You can't go anywhere unless there's someone you already know there."
He paused, a familiar glint entering his eyes - the same look he got before revealing something impressive. Without warning, he simply vanished. No blur of movement, no trace of ki - just empty space where he had stood. Before anyone could process his disappearance, he reappeared wearing Master Roshi's distinctive sunglasses.
"T-those are Master Roshi's sunglasses aren't they?!" Krillin's voice cracked with amazement.
Cellera's mind raced through calculations. The distance between their current location and Kame House... She felt her eyes widen slightly. Kakarot had just traveled over 12,000 kilometers and back in less time than it took to blink. The strategic implications of such a technique were staggering.
"Here," Kakarot handed the sunglasses to Krillin with that same casual air he brought to everything extraordinary. "Mind giving these back to Master Roshi for me?"
"Everyone." Tien's stern voice cut through their amazement, dragging them back to the gravity of their situation. "Let's establish when we're meeting in three years. What time should we arrive after the three years have passed?"
"Be there at nine," Piccolo answered, his tone carrying no room for debate. "One hour early." His eyes swept across the group, carrying the weight of the future they'd glimpsed. "Let me be clear - if any of you aren't sure of yourselves when the time comes, don't bother showing up. The enemy this time will be on a level none of us have seen before."
The words settled heavily among them. They'd faced impossible odds before - Saiyans, Frieza, even a supposedly immortal enemy in Garlic Jr. But something in Piccolo's voice, in the way their future selves had fallen to these androids, suggested this threat would dwarf all previous challenges.
Piccolo's harsh warning resonated with Cellera. Any hesitation against enemies that had decimated their future selves would prove fatal. But her father, predictably, couldn't let the moment pass without challenge.
"Don't make me laugh," Vegeta sneered. "Shouldn't you be the one that's least sure of himself?"
"What was that?!" Piccolo whirled to face him, teeth bared. "You want to try me?!"
As Kakarot moved to prevent the brewing conflict, Cellera felt her own patience finally snap. After maintained silence for so long, she opened her mouth to confront her father's perpetual antagonism - but Bulma's voice cut through the tension first.
"Why don't we just track down this Dr. Gero?" Bulma's suggestion carried the practical logic that Cellera had always appreciated. "We could use the Dragon Balls to locate him and stop this before it even begins!"
Krillin had barely begun to voice his agreement when Vegeta erupted. "If you even think of doing that, I'll kill you! You got that!"
The threat hung in the air for a moment before Bulma matched his fury with her own. "What the hell's the matter with you?! This isn't a game!" Her voice carried none of its usual playfulness. "The entire planet's fate is riding on this!" She rushed to Goku, grabbing his arms in desperation. "You agree with me, right Goku?"
"S-Sorry," Kakarot's apologetic smile did nothing to soften his words. "I kinda want to fight too..."
Cellera recognized the familiar pull in her own blood - that distinctly Saiyan need to test themselves against worthy opponents. Yet unlike her father's pure battle-lust, her desire felt tempered by something else: the need to protect what she'd found on Earth.
"And besides," he continued, "the scientist hasn't even made anything yet, so taking him out now is a little..." He trailed off, but Cellera understood the implications. Time travel complicated everything - their very presence here could alter the course of events. Perhaps these androids would never be created at all. The possibility of killing an innocent man over something he hadn't yet done, might never do, struck her as fundamentally wrong.
"Cellera!" Bulma's desperate plea struck something deep inside her. "You agree with me right?!"
Finding herself unable to meet Bulma's gaze, Cellera folded her arms in an unconscious mirror of her father's stance. "I'm sorry Bulma. Normally I would agree, but..." Her fist clenched as images of their future selves flashed through her mind - she and Gohan, the last defenders of Earth, ultimately powerless against the androids. If they'd had these three years to prepare, perhaps things would have been different. No, she had to fight - not solely for the thrill of battle, but for those future versions of themselves who had fallen after thirteen years of desperate resistance.
"You don't have to listen to these battle-crazed Saiyans!" Bulma's voice carried equal parts frustration and fear as she turned to the others. "If you die this time, we won't be able to bring you back to life!"
"I'll fight too." Tien's quiet declaration carried absolute conviction. "I want to test what I'm capable of. And if I die honorably in combat, so be it."
"I don't believe this," Bulma muttered, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
"I get where you're coming from Bulma," Krillin's voice carried gentle understanding, "but all of us here were once each other's enemies in the past, right? Whenever a powerful enemy showed up, we had no choice but to put it all behind us, and before we knew it, we all ended up as friends."
Krillin's words resonated deeply with Cellera. She had heard the stories - how Yamcha had once been a desert bandit who tried to rob Bulma, how Tien had wanted to kill Kakarot in the World Tournament, how Piccolo had once sought to conquer the world. Now they stood united, their past conflicts forgotten in the face of greater threats. And somehow, she - daughter of the prince who had once threatened to destroy their planet - had found her own place among them.
"Fine, do what you guys want." Bulma crossed her arms with a huff, though some of the fire had left her voice. "I don't know how a fragile civilian girl such as myself got mixed up with you guys."
Seeing an opportunity to ease the tension, Cellera ventured, "Perhaps it was when you shot Kakarot all th-"
"Oh, hush you!" Bulma cut her off, but not before a slight smile broke through her frustration. The memory of Bulma's first encounter with Kakarot had become something of a running joke between them during their late-night conversations.
"Let's fight for and win a peaceful future!" Goku's declaration rang out as he thrust his fist skyward, drawing enthusiastic agreement from the others.
"Kakarot." Her father's voice silenced the moment of unity. "Don't get cocky just because you can transform into a Super Saiyan... Sooner or later I will be the one to defeat you, I swear it! Don't you dare forget that I am the greatest of all Saiyans!"
Cellera fought the urge to groan. They had just learned of a threat capable of destroying everything they held dear, yet her father could focus only on his rivalry with Kakarot. Some things, it seemed, would never change.
Goku merely nodded, offering a simple "Yeah" before her father blasted off toward Capsule Corp. Tien and Chiaotzu followed suit, departing in their own direction.
"Piccolo," Goku turned to the Namekian, "would you like to train with Gohan and me?"
Piccolo's agreement brought an immediate transformation to Gohan's face - that pure joy that appeared whenever his two mentors worked together. Cellera couldn't help but smile at her friend's reaction.
"What about you two?" Goku extended the invitation to Krillin and Yamcha, but both declined - Krillin preferring to train at his own pace, while Yamcha admitted he doubted he could keep up with Goku's intensity.
"What about you Cellera?" Kakarot turned to her last, his expression open and genuine.
Cellera offered a light smile, nodding. "I accept your offer. I could use some assistance in training the Super Saiyan form." After witnessing his mastery of the transformation, the opportunity to learn from him was too valuable to pass up.
"Wow!" Surprise colored his features. "To be honest, I thought Vegeta would've had his own training regimen for you by now."
Her arms folded as she looked away, an unconscious shield against the hurt she usually kept hidden. "Actually, my father had only recently returned to Earth today. He has been gone since last May searching for you in space."
Both father and son fell silent, the air growing heavy with understanding. Goku especially seemed to process this - he'd known Vegeta's pride firsthand, but abandoning his own child was something else entirely.
"Well, you're welcome to come over anytime!" His characteristic smile returned, offering friendship without pity.
A slight laugh escaped her. "You may want to inform Chichi about the number of guests you're inviting over."
"Wait? You've already met Chichi?"
"Dad, Cellera comes over all the time!" Gohan jumped in, eager to share. "She helps me study, and sometimes we even get to train!"
"Wow! To even get Chichi to let Gohan train is a feat even I hadn't been able to manage." His genuine admiration caught her off guard. "You sure are something!"
The praise brought unexpected warmth to her cheeks. She cleared her throat, redirecting the conversation. "Speaking of, I suggest you bargain with Chichi about letting Gohan prepare for the androids, Kakarot."
Beside her, Gohan tensed as the reality hit him. His mother would never agree to three years away from studies - she might even forbid him from fighting altogether.
"I would propose to her that Gohan will still maintain his studies as he trains," Cellera offered diplomatically, before casting a teasing glance at her friend. "And I would refrain from sneaking out."
"Did you really sneak out son?" Goku's shock dissolved into laughter. "Man, I bet your mom wasn't happy about that!"
"She wasn't," both children responded in unison, sharing a look that spoke of hard-learned lessons.
While Goku moved to speak with Krillin and Yamcha, Gohan edged closer to Cellera. "Are you sure Vegeta isn't going to be upset with you training with us?"
"If he even remembers I exist," she scoffed, though the bitterness in her tone betrayed deeper hurt.
"I noticed you held yourself back a few times from saying anything to him today," Gohan ventured carefully. "Have you guys not spoken at all?"
"No." The word came out sharp and final. A small pout formed on her lips, drawing an affectionate quirk of a smile from Gohan. "And I won't be the first one to break the silence." Her chin lifted with that familiar stubborn pride that reminded him so much of her father - though in her case, he'd learned it wasn't necessarily a flaw.
"Alright Gohan," Kakarot called from where he stood with Piccolo, "Ready to head home?"
Gohan nodded, turning to wave at Cellera. "I'll call Capsule Corp when we figure out training times!"
She returned his wave with a smile, but before she could respond, Bulma added with a smirk, "Yeah, especially since she learned to use the phone and stopped ripping it off the wall."
"Bulma!" Cellera whirled on her guardian, face flushing with embarrassment at the reminder of her early struggles with Earth technology.
As the group prepared to depart, Goku paused, turning back to Bulma with his characteristic grin. "See ya! And Bulma, have a healthy baby!"
The casual statement left them all frozen in shock. While Krillin stammered out a question about pregnancy to an equally stunned Bulma, Cellera felt pieces of a puzzle suddenly snap into place. The mysterious youth's ability to become Super Saiyan. The way he carried her father's features but expressed himself with Bulma's mannerisms. His inexplicable knowledge of her habits, down to her favorite soda flavor.
She glanced at Bulma, who was vehemently denying any pregnancy. If the time traveler was who she now suspected him to be, he had shown remarkable restraint in maintaining his secret. Though something in the way he had watched her throughout their encounter suggested he had known she would eventually figure it out.
When Cellera and Bulma arrived at Capsule Corp, they found Vegeta already engaged in heated discussion with Dr. Brief. "The gravity room must be able to withstand 300 times Earth's gravity," he demanded, arms crossed in his characteristic stance. "I can handle it."
Dr. Brief pulled nervously at his mustache, scientific caution warring with his natural enthusiasm for a challenge. "But at that level your body would weigh approximately 18 tons. The strain on both you and the equipment would be enormous!"
"We might as well start working on increasing the gravity cap," Bulma sighed, though her tone carried more resignation than genuine annoyance. She turned to Cellera. "Want to help?"
The invitation instantly transformed Cellera's carefully maintained neutral expression. Her eyes lit up with that familiar spark she got whenever presented with a complex problem, particularly one involving numbers. She gave Bulma a quick nod before following her into the connected laboratory, moving past her father without acknowledgment.
Vegeta watched his daughter's retreat, noting how she had walked within arm's reach without sparing him even a glance. Her silence since his return had been absolute - more telling than any verbal rebuke could have been. Gone were the corrections he had grown accustomed to on Namek, when she would point out his tactical errors or call him on his rashness. She hadn't said a word about his impulsive charge to investigate the new ki signature, or his deliberate omission of Tarble from their discussion of surviving Saiyans, or even his attempt to provoke the Namekian.
In the past, she would have addressed each of these moments with that precise logic she'd inherited from her mother, breaking down his errors with unflinching clarity. But now she offered nothing - no criticism, no commentary, not even the disappointed looks Rhuba had perfected. His daughter had built a wall of silence more impenetrable than any energy barrier.
As he watched her disappear into the laboratory with Bulma, a grudging smirk tugged at his lips. His daughter was matching his own stubbornness with equal measure - proving herself truly his child even in her defiance of him.
The Son household erupted into chaos the moment they broke the news about the androids. "No way! Ask all you want I will not have it!" Chichi's voice carried through the walls, making Piccolo grateful he'd chosen to remain outside in one of the nearby trees rather than face her wrath directly.
Inside, Gohan tugged gently at his father's gi belt. "Remember what Cellera said, dad?" he whispered, eyeing his still-fuming mother.
Goku's confusion cleared as understanding dawned across his features. "Chichi," he began carefully, "what if I promise that our training won't interfere with Gohan's studies? He won't train with us unless his work is done for the day."
Chichi froze mid-tirade, staring at her husband with wide eyes. This wasn't his usual approach of trying to wheedle Gohan away from his books - instead, he was offering actual compromise.
"Yeah mom!" Gohan seized the opportunity. "Besides, all my studying would go to waste if the Earth gets overtaken by the androids!" He silently thanked Cellera for her earlier advice about appealing to his mother's own logic.
Chichi's arms crossed as she released a heavy sigh, but her resistance crumbled. "Fine."
Goku's face lit up with joy as he moved to pat his wife's back in gratitude - only to send her flying through the wall, through a tree, and face-first into a dirt pile. "S-Sorry Chichi!" He rushed after her, panic replacing his earlier triumph. "I've gotten so strong I thought I was holding back!"
He gathered his wife into his arms, carrying her back inside while Gohan retrieved their well-used first aid kit. As father and son worked together bandaging Chichi's injuries, Goku continued his stream of apologies to his silently seething wife. "I'm so sorry... I can't believe I did that..."
Gohan had to admire his mother's resilience as he wrapped her arm - few could take a hit from his father, even a restrained one, and remain conscious. His hands stilled on the bandages as his thoughts drifted to Cellera. He recognized that same strength in her, though hers manifested differently. As he resumed his work, he found himself hoping she and Vegeta would resolve their silence soon. Though she tried to hide it, he could see how deeply her father's absence and their current standoff wounded her.
Several days after the revelation of their future threat, the gravity room modifications were complete - though not exactly to Vegeta's original specifications. Cellera had quietly suggested to Bulma and Dr. Brief that they double the maximum capacity to 600 times Earth's gravity. She knew her father well enough to predict he would surpass 300 in record time, and she preferred to avoid the inevitable demands for upgrades.
The silence between father and daughter persisted, but Bulma noticed what neither would acknowledge. She caught Vegeta's stolen glances at his daughter during meals, the way his eyes followed Cellera's movements when he thought no one was watching. More telling were Cellera's own looks - quick, pleading glances at her father's retreating back whenever he left a room, her carefully maintained indifference cracking just slightly before she caught herself.
Their shared stubbornness was becoming almost painful to watch. Though Bulma firmly supported Cellera's position, she recognized that Vegeta would never bridge this gap without some form of intervention. The opportunity she'd been waiting for presented itself a month after his return.
Cellera jerked awake in the darkness, her heart racing from images of two shadowy figures methodically destroying everything she had come to care about. Unlike her usual nightmares of Frieza, this terror felt more immediate - perhaps because it hadn't happened yet. Could still happen.
She threw off her sweat-dampened covers, grabbing her latest Sudoku puzzle before heading to the kitchen. The familiar routine helped steady her nerves: glass of water, comfortable seat, challenging numbers to focus her mind away from darker thoughts.
In his own room, Vegeta sensed the sudden spike in his daughter's ki. He masked his own energy as he moved to investigate, but paused at the sight of Bulma already standing at the end of the hallway. The Earth woman watched, who he assumed was Cellera, with an expression he had once seen on Rhuba's face - that same maternal concern that made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
Vegeta nearly snarled a demand to know what the Earth woman was doing, but Bulma silenced him with nothing more than a finger pressed to her lips. The sheer audacity of the gesture made him cross his arms and scowl, though he found himself complying. His gaze shifted to where Cellera sat at the counter, absorbed in that ridiculous puzzle book she'd taken to carrying everywhere - another way to avoid acknowledging his presence.
"I give her about 5 more minutes before she makes her way out back for some training."
The prediction rankled him, but exactly five minutes later, Cellera rose from her seat and headed toward the back door. Something in Vegeta's expression must have betrayed his surprise because a knowing look crossed Bulma's face as she moved to the kitchen window.
She watched as golden light erupted around Cellera, her transformation into Super Saiyan casting harsh shadows across the yard. She began her warm-up routine - the same basic punches and kicks she always started with before amping up the intensity.
Bulma filled a glass with water, her eyes never leaving Cellera's training. She took a measured sip. "If she's training, then it must've been a nightmare about Frieza. She hated how she felt like she wasn't able to do anything to help on Namek."
"If that's true then she should be spending every moment she can training," Vegeta scoffed, "not wasting her time on puzzles or Kakarot's brat. Staying on this planet has made her grow weak."
The glass struck the counter with enough force to make lesser men flinch. Bulma's answering laugh carried a sharp edge that reminded him uncomfortably of Rhuba. "Presumptuous of you to say about her, considering you've only been around for the last month."
"Watch your tongue, woman," Vegeta's glare could have melted steel, though Bulma's complete lack of reaction caught him off guard. "Are you suggesting you know my daughter better than her own father?"
"You're damn right I do!" Bulma shot back without a trace of fear, matching his intensity with her own. "While you were off chasing Goku across the galaxy, I was here taking care of her! After you abandoned her - again! Just like you did on Namek, even after she told you how much that hurt her!"
The word 'abandoned' struck deeper than he'd ever admit, though Vegeta's pride would never allow him to show it. Before he could muster a retort, Bulma pressed her advantage.
"You really have no idea who she is anymore, do you?" Her voice dripped with challenge. "While you were out there in space, she helped save Earth from an immortal being! She fought alongside Gohan when everyone else had fallen! And let's not forget she achieved Super Saiyan at five years old - not because of some training milestone, but because she watched her father die!"
Vegeta felt the urge to destroy something, anything, to silence the infuriating woman before him. But what made it truly maddening was that she spoke truth. This Earth woman did know his daughter better now - she could predict Cellera's habits, understand her moods, provide the comfort that had once been solely his and Rhuba's domain.
"Listen, Vegeta." Bulma's anger softened to something more measured. "You care about her - in whatever weird way you're capable of. She knows you did once. She just needs to know if you still do." She placed her cup in the sink with deliberate care. "For both your sakes, end this ridiculous stubbornness contest and ask her to train with you for the androids. Trust me, she won't say no."
She paused in the archway, turning back with one final observation. "She may be the princess of a warrior race, but she's still a child." With that, she flipped the switch, leaving him alone in the darkness.
Vegeta moved to the window where Bulma had stood, observing his daughter's training. Despite her troubled state, each punch and kick carried the same power and discipline he'd instilled in her since she could first form a fist. This Earth woman possessed the same steel he'd seen in both Cellera and Rhuba - refusing to cower before him, matching his force with their own. Where Rhuba's defiance had carried that maddening air of calm superiority, Bulma met his fire with equal heat. His Saiyan instincts recognized and responded to such strength, much as they had to Rhuba's unwavering will.
Bulma's parting words echoed uncomfortably close to a memory: "She may be the princess of a warrior race, but she's still a child." The Earth woman - Bulma, he corrected himself, having earned that much respect - had unknowingly mirrored Rhuba's own warning after their daughter's first intense training sessions. "She may have Saiyan blood, but she's still a child." After that, Rhuba had strictly limited their daughter's training time, ensuring proper rest between sessions.
Every accusation Bulma had hurled at him replayed in his mind, each one striking true in ways his pride would never allow him to acknowledge. His ki spiked with frustration at finding no argument against her words.
Outside, Cellera felt the surge in her father's energy. She paused mid-form, looking toward the window, but found only darkness. He had already retreated to his room, leaving her to wonder if anything would ever bridge the silence between them.
The afternoon sun streamed through Capsule Corp's windows by the time Cellera made her way to the living room, still groggy from her late-night training session. Bulma looked up from her magazine, lounging in her favorite purple chair with a knowing smile.
"Good afternoon sleepy head. Had a long training session last night?"
Cellera managed a sleepy nod before sinking into the couch beside her. The familiar comfort of their routine - Bulma reading, her joining with a puzzle book - had become one of her favorite parts of life on Earth, though she'd never admit it out loud.
Bulma's humming trailed off as she lowered her magazine with a frustrated groan. "Everyone else is working so hard to get ready for those androids, while I'm sitting around the house doing nothing."
"That's not true," Cellera countered, more alert now. "You built the gravity chamber my father uses." She paused before adding, "And the one I've been training in." Her progress over the past month had been steady - reaching 50 times Earth's gravity in her normal state, pushing to 100 when transformed. The achievement felt particularly significant given how she'd once struggled with anything over 10 times normal gravity.
Bulma's smile carried genuine warmth at the defense, but she leaned forward, chin propped in her hand. "I just wish there was something else I could do..."
"Bulma!" Mrs. Brief's voice rang through the house. "I stopped by the bakery today! It seems Cellera is just in time too. I got you a strawberry shortcake, dear!"
The words 'bakery' and 'strawberry shortcake' cut through Cellera's lingering exhaustion like a ki blast. While the Briefs' private chefs prepared excellent meals, nothing could compare to the delicate perfection of that small city bakery's confections. This particular weakness had become her most closely guarded secret - one she'd even kept from Gohan. The thought of anyone she knew witnessing her losing composure over something as trivial as dessert felt mortifying. She might have embraced certain Earth customs, but she had standards to maintain.
As Mrs. Brief set down the tray, Cellera reached for her portion with what she hoped appeared as casual interest rather than the eager anticipation churning inside her. The small fork barely touched the plate before she was already savoring the first bite, though she managed to resist making the appreciative sound that threatened to escape.
Between careful bites, she noticed Bulma hadn't moved toward her usual favorite. The untouched chocolate cake spoke volumes about her guardian's state of mind.
"What's wrong, Bulma?" Mrs. Brief asked, picking up on the same detail. "Are you feeling lonely because everyone is spending their time training and not spending time with you?"
"No!" Bulma's response came too quickly, too forcefully to be entirely true.
Dr. Brief shuffled into the room, stretching with an exhausted yawn. "I'm starting to think Vegeta is a few cards short of a full deck."
Both Bulma and Cellera turned to him with curious expressions. "What has he done now?" Cellera asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
"It wasn't enough to have the gravity room with a simulator. Now he's demanding I make more equipment for him to train with."
"That sounds like father for you," Cellera sighed, taking another bite of her cake. Some things remained constant across galaxies.
"Well I think it's great he works so hard!" Mrs. Brief's perpetual cheerfulness cut through their exasperation.
"Sure he trains hard," Dr. Brief countered, "but don't you think he's overdoing it a bit?"
"Oh no! I think it's very admirable." Mrs. Brief took a delicate sip of tea, her next words carrying deliberate weight. "In my day, a man that showed that much dedication to anything was definitely husband material." Her meaningful glance toward Bulma couldn't have been more obvious. "A girl would have to be crazy to let him get away."
Cellera found herself studying Mrs. Brief with renewed curiosity. The woman continued to defy explanation - like her daughter, she showed absolutely no fear of Vegeta despite his reputation and power. More surprisingly, she genuinely seemed to consider him a suitable match for Bulma. Though given that her own mother had seen past her father's harsh exterior to whatever lay beneath, perhaps it wasn't so strange after all.
The sudden spike in her father's ki was their only warning before an explosion rocked Capsule Corp to its foundations. In that instant, every declaration of silence shattered as Cellera bolted upright, her cry of "Father!" merging with Bulma's "Vegeta!" They raced outside to find the gravity chamber reduced to smoking rubble, Vegeta buried somewhere beneath.
Cellera and Bulma attacked the wreckage with desperate speed, throwing pieces aside as Bulma's voice cracked with frustrated concern. "I knew this would happen! He's been trying to do the impossible!"
A gloved hand thrust upward through the debris. Cellera grabbed it without hesitation, helping pull her father free. Their weeks of maintained silence meant nothing as she scanned him for injuries, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Are you okay?" Bulma's question carried genuine worry.
"Of course I am," Vegeta managed, though his bravado couldn't mask his obvious pain.
"You battle-crazed idiot!" Bulma's fear transformed into fury. "Are you insane? You almost destroyed our house, which your daughter lives in too by the way!"
Vegeta tried to straighten, no doubt preparing some cutting retort, but his legs betrayed him. As he fell backward, Bulma caught him with the same gentle care she'd shown Cellera countless times over the past year. The parallel wasn't lost on the young Saiyan.
"Go! I don't need help. I've got training to do!" His insistence only made Cellera's fists clench tighter. Had he forgotten everything on Namek- including her anger over his disregard for his own safety?
"You've got to stop training for a while." Bulma's tone brooked no argument, reminding Cellera sharply of her mother. "Look at you, you're a complete wreck."
Her father's answering glare lacked its usual venom. There was something almost familiar in the way he responded to Bulma's scolding - an echo of how he'd reacted to Rhuba's similar concerns years ago. Cellera's hand moved unconsciously to the pendant hanging over her t-shirt, the metal warm against her palm as past and present seemed to blur together.
"But I feel fine, I'm a Saiyan!" Vegeta's words came through gritted teeth, betraying the pain he tried to hide. "I can take a little pain. It means nothing to me! And I have to get stronger than Kakarot."
Bulma's brow furrowed as she held him steady. "It may mean nothing to you, but I think your health means everything to Cellera."
The words drew Vegeta's gaze to his daughter. She stood clutching her mother's pendant, watching them with naked concern - the first real look she'd given him since his return. Gone was the careful indifference she'd maintained for weeks, replaced by the same worried expression he'd sometimes caught on Rhuba's face during his more intense training sessions.
"Look, we know you're a tough guy," Bulma continued, her voice gentler now. "But you need to rest."
"I take... orders from... no one." The declaration carried none of its usual force as consciousness slipped away from him.
Working together, Cellera and Bulma managed to get him to his room. They fell into an efficient rhythm - Cellera creating a sling for his arm while Bulma carefully applied antiseptic to his cuts. The familiar motions of wrapping bandages kept Cellera's hands steady even as her mind raced.
"If he stays in bed for a week or so he should be alright," Dr. Brief observed from the doorway. "The one part of his body he hasn't bruised at this point are his eyebrows." He shook his head in amazement. "He dodged a bullet again. It's a miracle he survived such a horrible accident."
Cellera's hands stilled for a moment over a particularly dark bruise.
"Those Saiyans are practically indestructible," Dr. Brief continued.
No, Cellera thought, studying her father's battered form, he only thinks he is. The sight of him lying there, vulnerable in a way she'd only seen once before - on Namek - made something twist in her chest. For all his talk of Saiyan strength, he was as mortal as any of them.
The mountain air crackled with energy as Gohan and Piccolo launched their assault. Twin beams - Gohan's Masenko and Piccolo's Special Beam Cannon - cut through the sky toward Goku, who vanished before either attack could connect.
"He's gone," Gohan muttered, stretching his senses to locate his father's ki.
Piccolo's sudden pivot saved him from Goku's appearing fist. The Namekian countered with a strike that seemed to hit empty air - until Goku materialized, sporting a satisfied smirk. They held their positions, mirror images with matching cuts on their cheeks, single drops of blood marking the precision of their exchange.
The standoff lasted only moments before they erupted into combat, their movements blurring beyond normal sight. Gohan caught only afterimages - the last wisps of ki marking where they had been an instant before.
Drawing a deep breath, he recalled Cellera's lessons during their spars. A faster opponent always has patterns, she'd told him. Find them, and you can predict their next move. He focused intently, tracking the fading traces of their battle through the sky until the sequence suddenly clicked into place.
"That's it!" The realization became action as he launched himself toward their next predicted position, his kick cutting through the space his father would occupy. Though he missed by mere feet, the surprise on both Goku and Piccolo's faces confirmed his strategy.
Pressing his advantage, Gohan unleashed a flurry of strikes at his father. But Goku dodged each attack with fluid ease before catching his son's fist. "Hey, Gohan! You're way too slow!" The playful taunt preceded a knee to Gohan's stomach that sent him plummeting earthward.
Arresting his fall, Gohan immediately shot back toward the battle. His body might not yet match their speed, but his resolve had never been stronger. This wasn't about proving himself or even becoming stronger for strength's sake - this was about protecting everyone he cared about.
A week after the explosion, memories of King Vegeta's words echoed through his son's dreams: "You come from a strong bloodline. You have the potential to join the super elite of all Saiyans!" His father's voice carried pride and expectation. "Never forget where you came from, and train very hard, my son."
Train...
The word resonated with particular bitterness. He had grown complacent, relying on royal blood alone to ensure his supremacy. But his father's final words cut deepest: "If you have proven yourself worthy, perhaps someday you will become a Super Saiyan!"
Vegeta gasped awake, lifting his head briefly before letting it fall back to the pillow. As his eyes adjusted to the light, an unexpected sight gave him pause. Bulma and Cellera had fallen asleep on the nearby sofa - his daughter's head resting in Bulma's lap while the woman's hand remained protectively on her shoulder. The scene stirred something he refused to examine too closely.
Rising carefully to avoid waking them, he made his way to the newly repaired gravity chamber. The familiar hum of machinery greeted him as he entered, setting the gravity to 400 times Earth's normal level. As he dropped into position for his first set of one-handed push-ups - he would complete a thousand before moving to the next exercise - the chamber's automated voice warned about gravity levels exceeding human biological tolerance.
A smirk crossed his features as he began his routine. Good thing he wasn't human then.
Vegeta twisted through the air, adjusting to how the increased gravity pulled at his limbs, when the video communication system flared to life. Bulma and Cellera's faces projected onto the wall, both wearing expressions of clear disapproval.
"Stop it, Vegeta! You are in no condition to be doing this right now!" Bulma's anger came through clearly, while Cellera remained silent, her eyes methodically cataloging every wince and strain in his movements.
"I know you don't want to believe it, but you are made of flesh and blood, you know?!"
"Stop pestering me, woman!" The familiar address felt right, even though he'd begun thinking of her as Bulma. "Leave me alone!" His momentary distraction cost him as gravity yanked him to the floor.
"You know I'm right! So why don't you just keep quiet and do as I say?!" Bulma's demand carried that fire that kept drawing his attention lately. When he only grunted in response, her triumph was immediate. "Nothing to say? Well, that's good!"
Her challenging tone stirred something in him - that same instinctual response he'd once felt with Rhuba. His eyes shifted to Cellera, who watched their exchange with careful attention. A solution presented itself - one that might satisfy both his need to train and his desire to reconnect with his daughter.
"As a matter of fact, I do have something to say!" He watched both women pause, noting how Cellera's guard instantly rose. "Cellera, get in here now."
The transformation in his daughter's face struck something deep in his chest - confusion giving way to shock before pure joy broke through her carefully maintained walls. Though she quickly masked the expression, he had seen what he needed. That brief glimpse of happiness was the first crack in the silence between them.
Cellera quickly moved out of frame, her heart hammering against her ribs. This wasn't exactly an apology - her father would sooner die than directly admit to being wrong - but she recognized it for what it was: his version of bridging the gap between them. Even if he was using it as leverage to continue training, the fact that he'd chosen to include her rather than simply defy Bulma spoke volumes.
Bulma turned back to Vegeta, who lay on the ground wearing that infuriatingly triumphant smirk. "Fine," she growled, though her eyes carried a hint of satisfaction at this development. "But I'm changing the cap of the gravity back down to 300. I'm not letting you flatten your daughter into a pancake!" The projection winked out as the chamber's robotic voice announced the reduction from 400 to 300 times Earth's gravity.
Damn her, Vegeta thought, scowling at how easily she'd outmaneuvered him. The woman was proving as intelligent as she was fierce.
When Cellera entered wearing her battle gear - compression suit beneath her jacket and shorts - the gravity immediately pressed down on her with crushing force. Even after all her training, 300 times Earth's gravity felt like being trapped under a mountain. She refused to show weakness though, standing as straight as possible despite the strain.
"What's the highest you've trained in?" His question carried genuine curiosity beneath its commanding tone.
"100 when I'm Super Saiyan," she answered, watching as he adjusted the controls down to match her limit. The immediate relief almost made her stumble, but she caught herself.
His next words caught her off guard: "You will not be using the Super Saiyan form." She stared at him in confusion. She'd expected him to want to test her legendary power, to push its limits - perhaps even to prove his own worth against it.
"Let's make one thing clear," he continued. "Once I achieve the Super Saiyan form, you no longer will be sparring with Kakarot, his brat, or the Namekian." His tone left no room for argument, carrying that familiar royal authority she'd inherited. "We'll be too busy with our own training."
Though part of her wanted to challenge his command, to defend her right to train with whom she chose, Cellera recognized the olive branch for what it was. He wasn't forbidding her from seeing her friends - only from training with them. And if he tried to extend the restriction further, well, she'd always enjoyed pointing out the flaws in his logic, just as her mother had done.
"Now." Vegeta dropped into his fighting stance, and she mirrored him automatically - the movement ingrained from countless training sessions before everything had changed. "Prove to me you haven't forgotten your Saiyan blood by living around these Earthlings."
She nodded, noting how he favored his left side despite trying to hide it. Even injured, she knew her father would show no mercy - it wasn't his way. "Show me that you didn't make a wrong choice." The words carried layers of meaning - he wasn't just talking about her decision to stay on Earth, but her choice to follow her mother's path of fighting to protect rather than conquer. This was his way of testing not just her strength, but her convictions.
As she launched herself forward, Cellera's resolve crystallized. She would show him exactly how strong one could become with something precious to defend. Her mother had known this truth, and now she would prove it to her father as well.